Samba do Circassiana

I always wanted to learn samba. As a travelling artist I know, have seen and experienced that regardless of geography, all of humanity is connected to each other subconsciously. I have met dancers who were born in different continents but have always dreamed of moving like a belly dancer. They are subconsciously connected to it despite not being Turkish. So I know art is beyond borders-physical and geographical- and despite not being Brazilian, I was drawn to samba this way. 

In the week I learned samba, my life completely changed, and I realized fully and deeply, why I had felt connected to Brazil for such a long time. 

In East Mediterranean and Middle East, almost everyone’s family has a story of a big loss and survival. These stories are passed from generation to generation. Not always verbally though. Sometimes grandmothers carry it to their graves. Other times it is exposed on death beds. 

Usually it is not exposed to the public, it is a secret, and transmits through women. (Culture for us transmits from the woman’s body in general.) 

And I was no different. My biggest pride, biggest treasure, the core of my identity is being a Circassian woman of a Circassian matrilinial bloodline. 

Yet with our identities comes a huge weight and responsibility- of being the carrier, vessel of our cultures, in which the stories of loss carries a huge part. Starting from our childhood, us little girls are confidantes of our elders, in this heritage and in this pain. Not coherent with modern pedagogy, I know. But I don’t care. Our real and organic bonds are way too strong and precious, and modern psychology way to clueless about how these important intergenerational ties work, in my opinion. 

Learning samba in Rio, I was deeply moved by the stories of Afro-Brazilian people and was amazed at how despite the loss of their homeland and their families, they managed to carry in their bodies joy, strength and power; not pain, helplessness and tragedy. 

Unlike our part of the world, where great- grandmothers cry, grandmothers cry, mothers cry, granddaughters cry… 

But why should I cry though? Why should my daughters cry ? 

Thanks to samba, I know how to transmit joy, power and strength to the next generation, without erasing my historical heritage and reality. Thanks to samba, my daughters won’t cry.