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Jason Moyer enters Twisted Dance Studios in downtown Greensboro, dressed in black pants and a T-shirt.

He carries a black suitcase, a duffel bag and another case containing make-up and jewelry.

Moyer emerges from the dressing room less than 10 minutes later, wearing satin, royal blue harem pants and a blue velvet vest with gold trim over a black sleeveless shirt. A gold turban embroidered with rhinestones crowns his head. A trail of chiffon flows down his back. Around his waist, he ties a coin scarf, used in belly dancing. It's covered with golden coins that jingle like little bells when he shimmies his hips.

He draws a few quick swipes of black eyeliner around his dark brown eyes, and smooths his complexion with just a touch of foundation and powder. He slips on gold armbands and silver peasant rings, then attaches a bindi -- decorative jewel -- to his forehead.

The transformation is complete: Jason Moyer now is Xavier Shadowdancer, belly dance performer.

To his knowledge, Moyer, 28, is the only male belly dance performer in the Triad. He does not fit the Western stereotype of what belly dancers look like. He is African American. He is male. And he describes himself as "plus-sized."

But Moyer sets out to show that belly dancing isn't about watching a trim, female body sway seductively. Belly dancing is an art form. And it can be done by men or women, regardless of size.

"I fell in love with belly dance because belly dance gave me a lot of confidence in my own skin, especially for a plus-sized man. Anyone can do it," Moyer says.

Seeking grace and beauty

Moyer wanted to be a dancer since he was a child.

But he was turned away from ballet studios because of his weight and his flat feet. So he started pursuing hip hop and African dance styles.

The Eden native came to Greensboro in 2004 looking for a job and more cultural opportunities. He stumbled on SoulFlower Studios about five years ago, looking for a cultural dance class. He couldn't find one emphasizing African dance, so he decided to give belly dance a try. Although he was the only male there, he wasn't uncomfortable.

"They didn't judge me because of my weight," he says of his first teachers, Carmen Cavanagh and Faun Finley (who also works as a marketing copywriter at the News & Record).

As he started learning the movements, how he felt about himself began to change.

"I had a lot of self-conscious issues with my body. I was not happy with my body," he says. "Because of my weight, I just didn't feel that I, too, could be beautiful."

But he gained confidence with each belly dance class.

"I shocked myself. (I thought,) 'Oh my God, I can do this.' I felt emotionally connected," he says.

Cavanagh recalls that people were very warm and accepting when she first started taking belly dance classes eight years ago. She tries to create that same environment in her own classes. There are few men who try belly dancing, and just a couple of male belly dancers that are well-known throughout the world. Because of that, Cavanagh hoped to encourage Moyer to stick with it.

She says it's wrong to judge a person's dance abilities by how they look physically.

"Sometimes people have a stereotype of what a belly dancer is ... if people see him (Moyer) on the street, you'd never see him and say, that's a belly dancer, and a good one," Cavanagh says. "If they don't see him dance, they don't give him a chance. When they do, they're like, 'Wow!' "

Moyer took more classes and attended workshops. About a year later, Cavanagh and Finley asked Moyer to perform at an event with them. Cavanagh says Moyer learns quickly.

"We've taken workshops together, and someone is teaching a new move, and Jason is one of the first ones picking it up," she says.

They call him "the mimicker," for his ability to copy movements and remember choreography. Such a student continually challenged Cavanagh as a teacher.

"A fast learner like Jason makes you a better teacher," she says.

She encouraged him to teach his own classes.

"I saw so much potential in him. He's such a people magnet," she says.

In his own class, Moyer's voice booms encouragement across the mirrored studio.

"Let's try a spin. Good job!"

"If the music is too fast, listen, forget the movements, just dance the heck out of it!"

His student of about a year, Kim Burke, says she appreciates his enthusiasm and energy. Burke, a professor at Guilford College, says he's a good teacher.

"He's always on top of his game. He's not one time come in subdued or grumpy," she says.

Burke was initially unsure about whether she'd like belly dancing. She worried about showing her belly, and feared she wouldn't be good at it. She was surprised by how much she enjoyed it.

"As a woman, I have my own body issues," she says. "but ... it's a great workout, and when I left, my face hurt because I couldn't stop smiling the whole time."

Moyer says belly dance not only changed his perception of himself, but it transformed his life. He's lost 50 pounds since he took it up, and his outlook is more positive. This made him more approachable to romantic prospects. Moyer, who is openly gay, met his partner at a dance club. He liked Moyer's confidence and dance moves.

They were joined in a commitment ceremony on the fall equinox in 2008. He also gained a new circle of friends. The women at his belly dance studio bought him a new sewing machine for a wedding gift. Moyer makes a lot of his own performance clothing, and the dancers occasionally meet at his house for wine and sewing sessions.

There's a lot of camaraderie among belly dancers, he says. Cavanagh says she also encourages her students to take classes with other belly dance instructors.

"The belly dance community is small, but supportive. We share students," she says.

Moyer, who juggles his job at Adam & Eve with medical transcription classes at GTCC, says teaching and performing belly dance is more fun than work.

"It's more than a hobby, but it's not work. If this was work, I don't think I'd be doing this," he jokes.

And despite the seductive moves and the provocative clothing worn by the women, Moyer says that belly dance is an art form that should share the same respect as that of the tango.

"It saddens me when people discredit it, or associate it with stripping," Moyer says with a sneer and an eye roll. "Excuse me while I puke in my mouth a little."

Introducing Xavier Shadowdancer

It's First Friday, and Twisted Dance Studios is offering demonstrations and sample lessons for visitors. Moyer applies the last of his make-up.

"Me being a guy, I don't have to go as heavy, but I have freckles," he says.

Then, a dusting of eye shadow.

"Just a very light something to make my eyes pop." he says.

When Xavier Shadowdancer performs, he tries to engage audience members, not just with his hips, but his eyes. When he first started performing, he worried that people would only see his size. But as he gained more experience, he realized he needn't worry.

"The audience doesn't really concentrate on the body," he says. "The eyes are the first thing that captivates people, and members tell me that. They say, 'Xavier, you have the most mystifying eyes.' "

Moyer doesn't try to imitate the female dancers. He conveys masculinity with a neatly groomed beard and mustache, and often dances with a cane or sword.

Though Americans think of belly dance as a female art form, male dancers play a prominent role in belly dance history, dating back to the 16th century Ottoman Empire in Turkey. According to the dance website, http://world dance.suite101.com, the sultan's harems were composed of hundreds of women, including the concubines, children and their slaves. The slave girls entertained the women with belly dances.

The men also wanted such entertainment, and that's how male belly dancers, or koceks, came about. They were young boys, often the children of foreign slaves. They were trained for years, and formed companies. They also were musicians. They wore their hair long and curled, painted their faces and dressed in women's dance clothes. They didn't grow facial hair, and were often sexually available.

There was another group of male belly dancers that was less effeminate. They wore tight pants and funny hats, and the emphasis was purely entertainment. But the stigma associated with the koceks led to their ban in 1856. Though making a slow comeback, male belly dancers are still not widely accepted in Arabic countries today.

When Moyer performs, he tries to convey a sense of androgyny.

"Masculine or feminine isn't in my mind onstage," he says. "I'm not trying to dance like a woman. I learn the same hip movement, the same style, but when I dance, I'm androgynous."

Fellow belly dancers call Moyer a "natural performer."

"He just shines. He really does have a love and a passion for it too, which just filtrates out of him," Cavanagh says.

Lynn Hoffman, belly dancer and co-owner of Twisted Dance Studios, where Moyer now teaches, says he inspires all of the dancers.

"He gets into the zone like nobody I've ever seen before," Hoffman says. "I think to be a really good dancer, you've got to do that."

Cavanagh says their audiences are impressed by his grace.

"They're amazed that he's such a big man, but if you watch him dance, you'd think he's light as a feather," she says. "He's graceful, articulate. ... If you put him next to another dancer, he stands out in a crowd."

Moyer hopes to share the stage with other men.

"I love the adrenaline rush I get from performing. I wish more men were wanting to dance," he says.

Contact Tina Firesheets at 373-3498, or tina.firesheets@news-record.com