Beyond the Crown: Exploring the Value of Being Judged

In a recent Instagram post, I shared some practical tips for dancers stepping onto the competition stage. Today, I want to pull back the curtain a bit further and share my own personal journey and thoughts in relation to dance competitions.

It’s important to know that while I’ve been dancing since childhood, I wasn’t raised with the format of competing. As a lifelong dancer, my foundational training was rooted first in classical ballet and contemporary modern dance styles. In those worlds, the philosophy was always centered around the ongoing pursuit of personal growth, strengthening technique, and enriching artistry, rather than being regularly, if ever, evaluated by a panel of judges.

Of course, competitions exist in practically every dance form now (including ballet). But when I first started attending belly dance festivals and realized competitions were a major component, I was immediately skeptical.

While I enjoyed being a spectator, I didn’t really understand the value or purpose of competing. More than that, I didn’t feel there was a truly objective way to judge an art form as subjective as dance. For a long time, I simply wasn’t a fan and always enjoyed performing for “open-stage” opportunities instead.

The turning point came later in my career. By then, I was teaching extensively and mentoring a community of budding, emerging dancers. We would often discuss various opportunities they might want to explore, including attending international festivals. Naturally, the topic of competitions came up, and my students began asking me what the competitive experience was actually like.

It was a humbling moment. I realized that as an instructor and a mentor, someone they looked up to for guidance, I had absolutely zero first-hand experience on the topic of competition. I could only speak from the perspective of an audience member. I could describe the vibrant, and seemingly stressful atmosphere and how the festival evenings ran, but I couldn’t share anything about the actual mental, emotional, and physical reality of standing before a panel to be judged.

That is when I decided I needed to enroll in my first competition.

It’s worth mentioning that by this point, I was already a working professional dancer and an established teacher. I didn’t step on my first competition stage needing a panel of judges to assess my worth or prove that I was a good dancer. My career was already moving, but I wondered, out of pure curiosity, how I might measure up. And on top of it all, a deep desire to truly understand the experience for the sake of my students.

For whatever reason, I didn’t choose a smaller, local festival to test the waters. Instead, I went straight to a massive, prestigious festival in Cairo! It was a place I had visited before, but never as a competitor, and I found myself dancing in front of legendary figures who many would consider deeply intimidating judges.

To my complete shock, I won third place! The results were announced on the final night of the festival, and I wasn’t even there to collect the prize! I had to return to my gigs and classes in Athens and had a phone call: “Guess what? Athena, you won Bronze!” (I’m incredibly grateful to my Greek friend who collected and lugged that heavy bronze statue trophy, certificate, and other gifts in her carry-on! Aman!)

That initial success sparked my curiosity and fueled my next attempts at tasting the competition sector. Whenever an opportunity arose at local events and festivals in Greece and around Europe, I decided to participate. Most of the time, I placed and was happy to go home with applause and some prizes. To be honest, it was certainly reassuring, and admittedly excellent for my ego, but it also quickly began to reveal to me the gaps in the system.

Because my career was already established, my relationship with the results was entirely different from many other competitors I see. There were never tears or even elation. On the occasions when I didn’t take first place, it didn’t feel like a crushing rejection, nor did it bring a sense of bitter disappointment. I already knew my capabilities, so I didn’t view a lower placement as a statement that I was a “bad” dancer. Instead, I looked at the results with academic curiosity rather than emotional defeat.

However, not every competition offered the most valuable part of the experience: constructive, useful feedback. There were several events where I placed well, but walked away with no real understanding of what set my performance apart: what was better or worse in relation to the other dancers.

Then came my very last competition ever, in Cairo back in 2011. I walked away from competing after that event for three very distinct reasons:

• First, The Place: Winning first place with live music, in CAIRO of all places, felt like reaching the absolute top of the totem pole. A check off my bucket list. Cairo, a live band, and that particular panel of master judges agreeing that I deserved the crown…the victory was deeply symbolic for me.

• Second, The Prize: The prize itself truly felt like winning the lottery. It was an invitation to return as a featured headliner for the prestigious Nile Group Gala Show, complete with costume changes and dedicated rehearsals with the orchestra. It was a pinnacle moment; I knew no other competition could ever top that experience.

• Third, The Goal: My ultimate ambition was never to collect trophies. While I naturally hoped to win, my true measure of success was elsewhere. My actual goals in this dance had consistently been to prove to myself that I could be a highly sought-after, self-supporting professional. I wanted to make a sustainable living as an international contract performer.

Competitions were not going to get me there. After that final win in Cairo, I stopped competing against others and instead spent the following years competing solely with myself to achieve that real goal (which I am proud to say I did.)

Looking back, the most beautiful part of that final victory wasn’t just the title or the tiara, it was the feedback I received the next day. The morning after the closing gala, I took a workshop with one of the respected master teachers who had been on the judging panel. When I went up to thank her after class, she took the time to share a detailed, profound impression of what she saw in me the night before. It was incredibly encouraging, meaningful, and deeply validating.

During my time as a competitor in the early 2000s, I didn’t always have the luxury of the modern formats we see today, where judges often provide written sheets, dedicated critiques, or are open to personal coaching. More often than not, the feedback I did manage to get was superficial: “I liked your performance, it was very beautiful… you have strong hips.” While certainly flattering, comments like that aren’t constructive; they don’t give an artist the concrete tools to grow or improve.

That exact realization completely evolved into how I sit at the judging table today.

Now, when I judge a competition, I am incredibly meticulous. I try to take detailed notes on every single competitor. I keep those notes securely on file so that if a dancer reaches out to me weeks or even months later wanting to know the ‘why’ behind my marks, I always have real, meaningful feedback to share.

I firmly believe that the entire purpose of being evaluated by a professional or a master teacher is to walk away with fresh, personal commentary. A competition shouldn’t just be about a trophy or a placement; it should give you the specific tools and tips you need to step back into the studio, to try something new, and elevate your artistry. Competitions aren’t about repeating the same routine over and over again, hoping at some point you’ll win.

BY THE WAY: Two classes are now live on the website and available to purchase.

Its time to show them some love! They are both 75 minutes, both are focused on stylization and combinations, but they could not be more different in their expression!

Cheeky Combos is all about exploring the cheeky side of your dance attitude and learning how to be playful and expressive on stage. We work on fun and dynamic combinations you can take straight to the stage, Arabic lyric translation to deepen your connection to the music, and the nuances that help you truly own your character.

Classy Combos is for dancers who want to take their dance to another level. Drawing on the classical theatrical styles and the foundations of Egyptian Oriental dance as represented within Reda styling, we create seemingly effortless, intricate step patterns with elegant lines.

All combinations are broken down and easily explained. Perfect for adding a timeless elegance to your dance.

Both courses are at intermediate to advanced level and are a great fit whether you are looking for fresh inspiration or want to add a new flavor to your dance.

With love,

Athena Najat