Saudi Women Practice Belly Dancing in Secret: Navigating Cultural Taboos in a Changing Kingdom

Despite their passion, women participating in belly dancing classes in Saudi Arabia conceal their identities when on camera.

In a Riyadh fitness studio, numerous women rhythmically move to Arabic music while practicing belly dancing—an activity many feel compelled to keep private.

The participants refuse to reveal their real names or show their faces, highlighting the persistent stigma and cultural prejudices surrounding this ancient dance form.

Throughout Arab communities, belly dancing has served multiple purposes: as artistic expression, popular entertainment, and a classic element in Egyptian cinema.

Globally, many women have adopted belly dancing as both a group fitness activity and a form of empowering self-expression.

However, in Saudi Arabia, even women-only sessions behind closed doors remain controversial.

"We live in a conservative society," explained one participant. "Belly dancing is perceived as something sensual, and no family or husband would approve of men seeing you that way."

It required months for journalists to gain access to the Riyadh class—a deeply private gathering where identities are strictly protected.

Most attendees expressed concern about potential reactions from family and friends.

"I don't tell my family... out of respect for their dignity—they're elderly," shared one participant, speaking anonymously.

This situation reflects the deeply rooted conservatism that continues in Saudi Arabia, despite recent relaxation of certain social restrictions.

A primary concern among the women is that family members might see images of them dancing. The gym staff carefully monitors phone usage.

"There's always fear someone might record me and cause harm," one dancer admitted.

Another participant revealed she couldn't tell her father about her enjoyment of belly dancing, knowing he would never accept it.

Saudi Arabia, the birthplace of the austere Sunni doctrine known as Wahhabism, has traditionally embraced strict interpretations of Islamic law.

Under 40-year-old Crown Prince Mohammed bin Salman's leadership, the kingdom has moderated its conservatism, permitting women to drive and no longer requiring veils.

Nevertheless, cultural traditions persist, and belly dancing—despite its centuries-old heritage—remains stigmatized as overly suggestive.

Some associate the dance with its revealing costumes and glittering sequins to prostitution, but the women in the Riyadh class dance purely for fitness and personal enjoyment.

The instructors identify themselves as coaches rather than dancers, emphasizing the physical benefits.

"We've transformed dancing into a sport," explained one instructor who calls herself Oni—the name she uses when sharing dance videos on social media, where she also conceals her face.

"Saudis appreciate enjoyment, fun, and life, but always within our religious boundaries and sense of modesty," Oni added.

In the studio, dancers of various ages move their hips to Arabic music, dancing barefoot while a woman with a neck tattoo plays the derbake, a traditional drum.

The environment feels celebratory, resembling a "women-only party," according to another instructor who goes by the alias Roro.

"Everyone enjoys themselves, and it's considered stress relief," she noted.

Yoga studios, boxing gyms for women, and belly dancing classes have emerged throughout the capital—a significant change from when women were prohibited from sports activities.

Fitness facilities continue to maintain strict gender segregation, preventing men and women from exercising together.

Belly dancing, which originated outside the Arabian Peninsula, is "somewhat more provocative than regional dance," explained Lisa Urkevich, professor of musicology and ethnomusicology at Georgetown University.

"Therefore, families might not want a female relative performing it at events," she told reporters.

However, Saudi Arabia is large and diverse, and "even within families themselves, perspectives on women and dance vary," she added.

The instructors view dancing as more than merely a pastime or fitness activity.

The classes are "deeply committed to female empowerment" and helping women build confidence, according to Oni.

"Dance nurtures those feelings—it creates a sense of community and strength."