Spotlight on: Yaël Zarca of Paris

Your dancing is often described as a marriage of tradition and modernity. How do you honor the roots of Egyptian dance while continuing to evolve as an artist?

Honoring the roots is all about education and respect for the culture. However, art is alive and must reflect the present. I let my personal experiences and modern influences guide my creativity, which naturally brings a contemporary touch to my performances without losing the essence of traditional Egyptian style.

Musical interpretation appears to be at the heart of everything you do. What do you hear in a piece of music that newer dancers often miss?

Newer dancers often focus on the obvious beats—the heavy drum hits—and try to fill every second with movement. What I hear, and what comes with experience, are the spaces between the notes and the subtle shifts in emotion. I listen to the breath of the singer or the sustain of an instrument like the qanoun or the oud.

You have built a reputation not only as a performer, but also as one of France's most influential teachers. How has teaching changed the way you dance?

They say that to teach is to learn twice, and that is absolutely true. Teaching has been the best mirror for my own dance. It has deepened my understanding of Egyptian culture, rhythm, and anatomy because I want to give the absolute best to my students. It has made me a more conscious performer and, ironically, a more generous one.

Many dancers focus on movement vocabulary, yet you often speak about emotion, culture, and the "soul" of the dance. Why is that transmission so important to you?

Vocabulary is just the alphabet; culture and emotion are what allow you to write a story. Egyptian dance is an cultural expression, not just a fitness routine or a series of isolated techniques. If we only teach the steps, we are practicing cultural appropriation instead of cultural appreciation. Transmitting the history, the context, and the Tarab is essential to honor the people who created this art form and to ensure the dance keeps its true soul outside of Egypt.

Over the course of your international career, what experience most transformed your understanding of raqs sharqi and its place in the world?

Traveling and teaching across different countries showed me that while raqs sharqi belongs to Egyptian culture, its emotional language is completely universal. Seeing women from entirely different backgrounds, who don't speak the same language, crying or laughing to the same song taught me that this dance is a powerful bridge. It transformed my understanding from seeing it as a local folklore to realizing it is a global tool for female empowerment and cultural connection.

You created a professional training program for future instructors. What qualities separate a great dancer from a truly effective teacher?

A great dancer is often focused on their own expression, their body, and their connection to the audience. But a truly effective teacher must shift that focus entirely onto the student. The biggest quality that separates them is empathy. A great teacher knows how to step out of the spotlight, diagnose a student's blocks, and adapt their vocabulary to meet the student where they are. It’s no longer about saying 'Look at what I can do,' but rather 'Let me show you what YOU can do.'

In a dance landscape increasingly shaped by short-form content and fast trends, how

do you encourage students to develop patience, artistry, and depth?

We have to teach students how to consume media critically. I don’t fight against short-form content, because it’s part of our world, but I teach them that a 15-second clip is just a product, not the process. To develop artistry, I give my students assignments that require depth: researching the context of a song, understanding the lyrics, or improvising to different musics. I show them that true impact on stage doesn't come from a fast trend, but from the emotional maturity you project when you actually know what you are dancing about.

•Your work frequently emphasizes listening rather than simply copying. What does it mean to genuinely listen to music with the body?

To genuinely listen with the body means that the music becomes the commander, and your muscles are simply executing its orders in real-time. It’s the opposite of executing a pre-planned choreography. When you truly listen, you don't anticipate the next beat; you react to the exact texture of the sound as it hits you. If a violin note pulls, your movement stretches. If the tabla strikes, your hip drops instantly. Your body becomes an extension of the orchestra—almost like a visual instrument that makes the sound visible to the audience.

Looking back at the young dancer who first discovered oriental dance, what advice would you give her today?

I would whisper to her: "Slow down and breathe. You don't need to prove anything to anyone—just dance to express, never to impress.'" I’d remind her that this dance is a lifelong companion, a marathon, not a sprint. Every challenge, every doubt, and every hour spent practicing in a studio is secretly building the artist and the teacher she is meant to become.

Our upcoming issue explores "Legacy and Lineage." When future generations look back on your contributions to this art form, what do you hope they will say you passed on?

I hope they will say I was a bridge—someone who helped preserve the profound cultural soul and authenticity of Egyptian dance while giving women the tools and confidence to make it their own. I hope my legacy is one of deep respect for the roots, showing that you can be modern, creative, and international without ever losing the Tarab or distorting the essence of the art form.

Yaël Zarca Danse Orientale : danseuse, professeur danse orientale Paris