The Syrian refugee who taught himself ballet - 'I dance until I get it all out'

Amidst civil war and against the wishes of a father who threatened to break his legs, Ahmad Joudeh fell in love with ballet while living in a Syrian refugee camp.

Now a professional dancer and proud LGBTQ+ ambassador based in the Netherlands, Joudeh dreams of opening a Syrian national ballet company one day, but isn't sure when he can safely return to his birth country.

"I don't think a ballet dancer with this kind of sexuality will be alive two or three days if they ever set foot in Syria," he tells Nine to Noon.

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The Dancer -a film screening as part of this year's Doc Edge festival - traverses Joudeh's difficult early life in Syria and also his lifelong passion for ballet.

"The moment I discovered dance and I started moving, I just felt free. And this feeling I still have it today. When I dance, I just feel free, and I feel this is my way of existence. This is my way of expression. To me, dance is to exist.

"The moment I started dancing, I would have that feeling, and I just fought for it, and I keep fighting for it. I sweat my tears… I dance until I get it all out."

Because his paternal grandfather was a Palestinian refugee, Joudeh grew up as a 'stateless' refugee in a Syrian war camp.

Every day there was a fight for survival, he says. Sometimes it was beatings were carried out by his father - a painter and musician who taught his artistic son to sing and play guitar but angrily rejected his love of dance.

"You don't say no to your Arabian father. That's how he grew up. But no, this is my life, and this is how I want to live it. So it became more of like whose word is it gonna be, you know? And it became like a power play. He forgot that he's a father, and he became an enemy."

When he was 26, Joudeh tracked down his dad in a refugee camp in Berlin. They hugged, he says, and it was nice for a while, but after returning to Syria, he became "the ashamed father" again.

"Nowadays, I'm like, "Okay, well, you have your life. I have my life, and thank you for whatever you did because guess what, you made such a strong person because you were doing this to me. I have such a thick skin. I give him the credit for that. No one can break my heart because he broke it first."

At 16, totally self-taught, Joudeh was accepted for the main Syrian ballet company. After graduation, he was preparing himself for army service when a Dutch journalist asked to film him dancing.

Although both sites were under ISIS control, Joudeh wanted to dance in the Yarmouk Camp (where he was raised) and the Roman Theatre in Palmyra, where he'd first performed at 16.

"I wanted to dance [at the Roman Theatre] because I wanted to tell them, This theatre is for dance. It's not for killing people. And I did."

After the 2018 documentary Dance or Die screened on Dutch television, the Dutch National Ballet invited Joudeh to join.

After moving to the Netherlands in 2016, he struggled with PTSD symptoms for several years, and blacked out the first time he heard fireworks.

"PTSD is not easy, but when you have therapy, you can live with it, it's okay, and when you are loved and you have people around you, they support you.

"Sometimes you just need a hug and you'll feel safe, and that's all you need. I did work on myself, also on my mental health, and this is very important."

Although Syria is full of beauty, inspiration and young people with a lot of hope, Joudeh says, he is uncertain about the country's future.

"A country without culture and art is a country not worth fighting for, believe me. The opposite of war is not peace. It's creation. That's what I believe."