As summer 2023 was drawing to an end, I signed up for an eight-week burlesque class at The Funktion, barely knowing what burlesque was. Something about it called to me, though I couldn’t explain why. Maybe it was the thrill of performing with my favourite local band, Bubblegum Bikini, or the chance to step outside my comfort zone. But less than a week into the class, the genocide in Gaza began, and suddenly, burlesque became something much deeper—an act of resilience, visibility, and reclamation.
A year later, I found myself on stage at Artists for Palestine, performing in a show that raised over $4,500 for e-sims for Gaza. What started as a curiosity became a powerful way to honour my roots and take up space as a Palestinian artist. Burlesque is different for everyone—some embrace it for body positivity, self-expression, or resistance. For me, it’s been a journey of reclaiming power and identity. Every time I step onto the stage, I confront old fears and limiting beliefs. It’s a radical act of self-liberation, a reminder that magic exists on the other side of fear.
When preparing a performance, I always ask myself: What does this mean to me? Some acts are playful, reclaiming my inner child through glitter and joy. Others are about visibility—standing proudly as a Palestinian performer, declaring, I am here, and I have a story to tell. Burlesque allows me to merge personal expression with the deeper layers of my identity.
Like all art, performance is subjective. Not everyone will resonate with what I create, and that’s okay. As I remind myself: "Their opinion does not define my competence - or my worth." I’m still learning to separate my truth from the need for validation. Stepping into the spotlight means facing old wounds—the echoes of past criticism, the fear of judgment—but it also means growth. Performance is a mindfuck, and I’m grateful for the artists around me who remind me that we’re all navigating our own wounds.
Burlesque began as an act of rebellion against my fears, but it has become so much more. It’s a reclamation—of body, voice, and narrative. Standing on stage, fully owning my space, is the most empowering feeling. As I look ahead, I can’t wait to see where this journey takes me in the next 10, 20, or even 30 years. Being a beginner is exciting, though the Aries in me is eager to master the craft. But as long as I remember my why and keep going, who knows what’s possible?
*photos courtesy of @dirt_fingies