I’m Samira Houdiri. I was born in Casablanca, where the air smells like orange blossom and sea salt. My childhood was full of rhythm — the clink of teacups, the hum of prayer, the shimmer of gold bangles catching sunlight. My mother taught me that modesty could be an art form. My aunts taught me that even silence has choreography. I grew up learning to move carefully, to speak softly but never without purpose. But even then, my body knew before I did that I wasn’t meant to stay still. In every drumbeat at a wedding, in every glance exchanged over mint tea, there was a pulse that called me toward freedom.

Now I live in Barcelona, in a small apartment where sunlight spills across the floor. I dance here, as a teacher and a performer, moving between worlds and versions of myself. The city is loud and generous, it celebrates women who take up space. I wear silk and gold, move barefoot across tiled floors, and let music remind me who I am. Barcelona taught me that confidence isn’t noise, it’s rhythm. That desire isn’t shame, it’s truth in motion. My wardrobe is a love letter. Backless dresses, turquoise skirts, the scent of oil against my skin. I walk to the beat of bachata spilling from balconies and this city lets me live wide open — radiant, rooted, and unafraid.

I write because dance can only hold so much. The rest — the memories, the questions, the heat from every performance — needs language. My series, Barcelona Shake, is a collection of moments where movement meets memory. I write about how I find power through softness, and about the sacredness of being seen. For me, the page is another stage, quieter, but just as alive. I write to connect. To remind myself that joy is not the absence of ache, it’s the music we make with it. Every word, like every dance, is a way back to myself — barefoot, golden, and free.