Not knowing my mother was watching from the kitchen, I walked over to the coffee table, picked up mother’s cigarette pack, took out a cigarette and put it in my mouth. I then picked up the matches, took one out and began to try and light it. My mother came out of the kitchen in tears holding out her hands for me to hand it all over…. I was two years old and just wanted to act like mommy.

It was the late ’60s and everyone smoked. It was “cool” and all the marketing and advertising was geared towards smokers. In the ’50s (just a decade before), women could light up in the hospital after giving birth. All the movie stars smoked and you know we all want to be like the movie stars. My mother had worked in and owned a nightclub in San Francisco so smoking was a way of life. But now my mother was in a new phase of life and she was trying to be more of a role model for me; but she forgot this one last detail. Being that I was so young, she never thought I was even noticing. But there I was, a baby, and absorbing her actions and wanting to emulate her every movement. So she quit then and there after 27 years of smoking…. Yep…. She just QUIT.

My mother’s way of taking control was to go out and buy boxes of cigarettes and put them all over the house. She put cigarettes in every room of the house and no matter what you were doing you would run into a cigarette. Then when she was craving a cigarette and couldn’t control herself anymore, she would take one, light it, take a drag, and then put it out, break it in half, and tape it to the wall in her bedroom. Within weeks of her quitting she had a line of cigarettes along the whole bedroom. With each broken cigarette she was reminded of the fact that she didn’t smoke it…. It gave her power. It took my mother approximately three weeks to fully quit and she hasn’t taken another puff since.

I remember my mother’s willpower and have often bragged to others about her desire to be a good role model for me. Every time we went out to the Arabic clubs I knew it was hard for her to smell the smoke from the table next us and not smoke herself. I of course was gagging, but for my mother (a smoker) it was torture. I would ask my mother how she could have been a smoker and professional dancer as well and her response was “we didn’t know any better at that time.”

It was 1985, the year I graduated high school, and by this time I was dancing full time and my dreams of becoming a professional dancer were getting closer and closer. I was taking and/or teaching dance and aerobics every day and committed to a lifestyle in dance and fitness. But I was also a teenager and along with that came a desire to “try new things.” One afternoon during lunch break my best friend and I were in her car and she pulled out a packet of cigarettes. I looked at her and she looked at me and we knew we were about to smoke. We didn’t even talk to each other, but our eyes did all the talking. It was like if we didn’t speak about it, maybe we wouldn’t feel so guilty. We took out the cigarettes, lit one each, and began to smoke. After the first hit I was choking so hard I was tearing and could barely see. My best friend was a little easier on the first inhale and she managed not to gag. We didn’t give up even though my throat hurt and I felt nauseous and dizzy. Gee…. Were we having fun yet?

I left school early that day and went home sick. I managed to teach my dance class that night, but it took me a couple of days to feel like “myself” again. I couldn’t believe that anyone would keep smoking with the feelings I went through. I wanted my body back and felt so thankful that I was able to use my body and take care of it in such a way through my dance and fitness, that I didn’t want to abuse it and ever put it through that kind of torture ever again. In fact, I wanted to detox and work out a little more and sweat it out. I felt like I had a brick on my chest for the next few days and it took me awhile to get the smell out of her car and our clothes.

When I finally was old enough to work in nightclubs it was still the time you could smoke in clubs. I would come home and have to air out my costumes since they would smell of smoke. I would even have to wipe down my beads because the color would change. I could barely breathe while dancing, and somehow the smoke-filled room also gave me better lighting. I never really though much of it except when I would cough for 5 minutes straight after my shows. While dancing in the Middle East it felt like I was always dancing with a major filter in the room at all times since the level of smoke was so intense. When you go over to a home in the Middle East it is very common to have a huge tray/plate of ever kind (and I mean “every” kind) of cigarette ever produced on the tray for guests. It is thought to be a polite household if you display this arrangement of cigarettes. And the hostess will offer you the tray to welcome you into the home. No one could believe that I didn’t smoke. They had two reasons: first that I worked in clubs, and second that I was American.

This year at Summer Caravan I was standing behind my booth and this woman came up to me with her daughter by her side and asked me “Are you Suhaila?” I looked at her with wide eyes and said “Sometimes” and she pulled her daughter out from behind her and said, “My daughter was you for Halloween last year.” I couldn’t help but laugh and reach over the table to kiss her. I knew I had “made it” by my standards. I am now a character for kids to dress up as for Halloween. It was then that I also felt proud that I can be a roll model for kids to look up to not only in dance but health-wise. I would feel bad if any little girl would ever see me with a cigarette in my hands… not just Isabella.

Being able to channel my energy and time through dance was one of the best gifts my mother gave me. She made sure to have me involved in activities so I would focus on something positive for my mind and body. I thank her for that and have passed this onto my daughter. I make sure that Isabella sees me working out, teaching and taking dance classes. Now when I work out I have a little 1 lb. weight set for her right next to me so she will feel it is second nature to take care of her body. So there I am huffing and puffing with my weight training and I look over at her doing the same exercises I am doing. Being a good role model for my daughter and young women ultimately means taking care of myself so they will have a strong image of themselves. It isn’t just about the dance… it is about power, self image, personal growth, health, self esteem, and connecting the mind body and spirit. Aren’t we worth it!

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