OPINION: In South Seattle, a Program that Teaches Traditional Somali Dance Restores Hope

President Trump wants to use his policies to hurt the Somali community. Every day it seems another community member is targeted by Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE), with unconfirmed ICE sightings early this year in New Holly, a neighborhood largely known for its Somali residents. Hateful rhetoric is spread about Somalis and who they are. Even so, the Somali community continues to embrace hope, knowing that it’s stronger than the fear and hate being directed at them. 

Hope was in the air – and on the dance floor – on Jan. 24 at the Tukwila Community Center, as the Muslimahs Against Abuse Center (MAAC) commemorated young Somali women and girls who participated in the baraanbur program, where they practiced a dance they had been learning for a year.

Baraanbur is a traditional dance performed by Somali women during celebrations, such as weddings and graduation parties, and is mostly done in women-only spaces. A group of women gather in a circle, with a woman poet in the middle who often holds a drum. As the poet recites, one young woman will step into the circle and start dancing. After that, more young women will enter the circle, and the poet will recite until the dance ends. The experience creates a space where women come together to share their love, grief, and pain, and to be in community. 

That evening, it started with a speech by Cadar Ooomane, who recited a poem praising the young girls and women who were there, and giving them the strength and courage to enter the circle. The first person to jump in was the program facilitator, Kamar Yusuf. She swayed, danced, and jumped up and down, while everyone around her clapped. Yusuf's dancing encouraged others, and with every young woman who jumped in, the air became more lively, the energy palpable. 

There were many young, bright faces. Girls as young as 7 felt brave enough to jump in and take part. The room thundered with the sounds of feet stomping on the floor, banging drums, and the poet’s voice echoing off the walls. Everyone uplifted each young woman who jumped into the circle. 

Organizers with MAAC recognized a need for young Somali women to connect with their culture and learn a tradition that many older Somali women knew intimately. In late 2024, the center sought applicants for its baraanbur program. When the program began in early 2025, there were 120 participants split into three cohorts. Participants ranged in age from 17 to 29. 

Rahma Rashid, executive director of MAAC, said many of the young women were shy and didn’t want to be called out for not knowing the dance. “We really did an amazing job with recruiting our current facilitators and our current teachers. They did an amazing job by listening to them, making sure that they feel heard, making sure that they felt seen.” 

Rashid added, “It was very beautiful to witness and to see. I had my little sister in the program as well, who didn't know how to do anything but was on board from the start – and by the end, she was doing flips. ” 

As the girls and young women reconnected with their culture, they had the chance to leave it all on the dance floor, to be in community with other women, and to know and continuously practice hope even in the face of hatred.

Khadija Rashid, 16, who participated in the program, said the experience gave her the confidence to jump into the circle, not be scared, let her energy out, and be one with the crowd. The program provided her the space to fully be herself. 

MAAC Executive Director Rahma Rashid said the program began with an education piece, where teachers and participants spoke about the history of Somali culture, to create a space where identity did not have to be defended or explained. “We are just reclaiming our own narrative, I think, in moments when, again, someone is misrepresenting us or reduced [us] to headlines,” Rashid said. “It reminds us that our identity is deeper than the moments we are living in.” 

MAAC is devoted to working with women who have survived trauma.  Through the baraanbur program, a group of young women are taught to not only address their own suffering but to also witness the joy and the healing that can be expressed in the circle through moments of sisterhood and belonging. 

 “Our community has always healed together through storytelling and connection, shifting the survivors from being seen only through trauma to being seen through strength and dignity.” Rashid said. 

MAAC hired two facilitators, Ladan Fayoke and Yusuf, the evening’s first dancer. Both are familiar with the importance of ensuring that young women know about the tradition. 

“I've always just been someone who was kind of interested in culture, just didn't know how to go about it,” Fayoke said.”So when this opportunity … came up with Rahma and this program was created, I knew I had to [take part].” 

For Yusuf, it was generational: Watching her aunt practice the dance, she was inspired to learn it for herself, until one day it became second nature. That practice has taught her the importance of her culture and who she is.  She understands why it's important to impart that to other girls.

“As I grew older, it was the one part of a wedding that I felt the most connected to, to my culture, to everything,” Yusuf said. “It has so much meaning to it that you don't understand when you're younger, but as you get older, you understand how [much] deeper the meaning can be.” 

Fayoke, Yusuf, and Rashid knew that the women before them had the answers to big problems, such as what it means to survive war, migration, and displacement. The baraanbur program attempts to restore the ancestral healing and wisdom that is ingrained into the practice, and to show that joy, hope, and love can be facilitated when women come together. 

“Somali women have always used baraanbur to speak truth, when silence was expected, led community conversations through words and wisdom, preserve memories in the absence of written records,” Rashid said. “In a community shaped by war, migration, trauma, this tradition reminds us the Somali women have always been leaders, healers and truth tellers.” Rashid continued that this particularly resonates “at a time when many Somali women feel disconnected from culture, from one another, and from their own voices.” 

Nura Ahmed is a writer, filmmaker and organizer based in Seattle and South King County. Her writing has explored the Muslim, Black and Immigrant experiences in Seattle. You can find her @sincerelynura on all platforms.