Femininity and Feminism in Tango (I)

Since the beginning of human history, men and women have been each other’s closest companions. Men are drawn to women, often treating them with more generosity and care than they do other men. They choose women as life partners, work diligently for those they love, and are even willing to lay down their lives for them. Women, in turn, seek to captivate men, win their hearts, and place their trust in them. They devote their love, unite with them, and follow their lead. Men and women cherish, need, support, and complete each other. Their bond has, for the most part, been a love story (see Tango and Gender Interdependence).

In the milongas of Buenos Aires, I witnessed this love story. I experienced profound connections with Argentine women. At first glance, they may not strike me as prettier than women elsewhere. But dancing with them left a lasting impression on me. They are tender, gentle, affectionate, and quietly seductive. They express their femininity with grace, often adorning themselves with flowers. They meet your gaze with confidence and respond to your cabeceo with a knowing smile. They embrace you warmly with their chests pressed close to yours. In the dance, they twist and turn within your arms, entwining their bodies and legs with yours. Femininity is not their weakness but their strength—one they wield effortlessly to make you feel special. They may be professors, doctors, or CEOs in their daily lives. But in the milongas, they are simply pure, natural, and lovely women—beautiful, radiant, and unapologetically feminine. It is no accident that tango was born from them—it lives in their blood. Argentine women are the very incarnations of femininity and passion. Dancing with them is truly one of life’s most exhilarating experiences (see Gender Expression in Tango).

Without femininity, tango would not be the same. Tango requires men to be strong, decisive, dependable, protective, and considerate, and women to be soft, loving, obedient, agreeable, and graceful. In tango, as in life, men and women play distinct yet complementary roles (see The Gender Roles in Tango). One is like the sturdy branches of a tree, the other its delicate leaves—together, they form a masterpiece of nature. One is the brush, the other the paint—together, they create a work of art. In Europe and North America, feminism has reshaped gender dynamics, and some women now challenge these traditional roles in tango. They dismiss gender distinctions, reject the notion of surrender, and resist men's lead. They demand that macho posturing and gender inequality be removed from tango, insisting on maintaining independence by dancing in an open hold to keep a distance from men. They ask men not to lead them but only to suggest movements while respecting how they choose to respond. They assert their rights to interrupt the lead, initiate their own steps, reverse gender roles, and form same-sex partnerships. In short, they want tango to be a gender-neutral dance, and the milonga to be like a workplace where everyone behaves in a politically correct manner (see Tango and Gender Equality).

The masculinization of women in Europe and North America has undeniably altered the way tango is danced in these societies, where the modern way of living encourages women to wear uniforms, conceal their gender identities, and strive for career success in competitive environments like men. Many prioritize ambition over family, and independence over relationships. They refuse to be treated as "the weaker sex," pushing for laws that ensure women’s rights and equal opportunities. As a result, they see themselves less and less as women and more and more like men. To compete with men, women need to be tough, strong, ambitious, and aggressive—traits traditionally associated with masculinity. Many become mean, sloppy, overweight, or indifferent to their appearance, as they no longer care how men perceive them. They raise daughters who adopt the same traits, expecting them also to compete with men as they grow up. Violent women breed violent murderers, as the world has just witnessed in Newtown, Connecticut. When women forsake their gentle, loving nature, the balance between the sexes erodes. Relationships suffer, families disintegrate, and children grow up without the warmth of traditional parental roles. As femininity diminishes, so too does its allure to men, who may seek companionship elsewhere. You wonder why same-sex relationships has become a growing discourse in our society? When women lose their soft, gentle, and loving nature that balances men’s strength and aggression, the world becomes a more dangerous place.

Femininity is to humanity what greenery is to the earth—it brings balance, beauty, and life. I feel a deep nostalgia for the lost femininity in many modern women, and I believe the world shares this sentiment, which is why people around the globe increasingly find Argentine women and their dance so captivating. If you dance enough tango, as Argentine women do, you will understand that turning women into men doesn’t work, just as it has caused more problems than it has solved in other societal discourses. That being said, I remain hopeful thanks to Argentine tango, because, in tango, men and women must be who they are created to be for humanity's common good—different yet balanced, distinct yet complementary, divergent yet interdependent, and opposite but equal. (See Femininity and Feminism in Tango (II).)

Private Whispers in the Milongas, by Sara Melul

The milongueros, who are the true personalities of the milonga, have the custom of quietly talking with their partner between one tango and another. These whispers sometimes knit a plot that becomes a love story. Others are memories or anecdotes of one night in the milonga. At times they remain just a lovely conversation. The important thing is that, for us who come to dance, these conversations form an essential part of the warm, embracing atmosphere and one of those most important and gratifying moments. Surely there exist many thousands of such examples which different women receive daily in the milongas.

• How well we dance together! You have eyes that I want to eat. I dance better with you; you awaken the creativity in me.
• For me dancing tango is like flying, to surrender to you as a dream, and to enjoy it.
• I am going to tell you something that perhaps you will not like: The brightness of your eyes makes me blind.
• Do you always come here? Where else do you go to dance? I ask in order to follow you until the end of the world.
• Goddess, if I were God, I would have you in my kingdom, but I have you in my arms.
• I congratulate you because with you one can dance very well.
• How I enjoy dancing with you! Each tanda passes by in a breath!
• When we dance together I feel your body.
• You have a tiny waist that I am afraid will break.
• To dance with you is like a dream…how can I not be very happy, I have the best woman, the best music, what more do I need?
• I am enchanted with you, you dance like the goddess, beautiful, free, nothing worries you!
• After dancing the first tango with you, how could I leave now?
• They made this tango for you. It is called “to the grand doll.”
• Since I met you there is no other woman for me! I will come next week just to dance with you…
• You dance divinely…do you understand me? One only would want to know, to touch you and dance all night…
• You are something unbelievable. One can dance with you all night without being bored.
• I want to dance with you and catch your perfume!
• I want only to enjoy you in this dance…we will not talk. I am jealous when you do not dance with me…
• It is incredible how you dance. You are a monument to femininity.

Contributed by Sara Melul, El chamuyo en las milongas

Tango and Gender Equality

Some believe that traditional tango, danced in close embrace, is politically incorrect, while the open-embrace style popular in Europe and North America is a distilled, sanitized version adapted to modern sensibilities. A book I recently read expressed this opinion:

“In Europe, the idea seems to be that harmony in dance is arrived at by mutual consent and that men and women are equal partners. I get the distinct impression, however, that even today, in Buenos Aires, the idea is that the man is in complete control; every action has its lead and the progress of the dance is a series of well-established consequences… A recent article from a tango website in Argentina touched on the relationship between the man and the woman. It used the phrase ‘The woman’s attitude of surrender’… I am not at all sure this notion would find much acceptability with the women I dance with. I can see how it might be interesting to look at the undoubtedly macho flavor in the history of tango and perhaps derive some ideas from it for our dance-play today. I am less happy to accept this idea as the essential feeling of tango in the modern world. I am more attracted to the idea that tango evolved out of a lucky fusion of multiple cultures, mostly European in origin. It seems that it received a transfusion of refinement in Paris in the 1920s, and it looks to me as if it is benefiting today from another shot in the arm all over Europe. Tango is growing apace here and is being distilled to meet the requirements of today’s relationships. I believe it may be losing its narrow, even parochial feel and is becoming truly international in the hands of a new and more cohesive European people. We are not frustrated, homesick, stressed Europeans seeking love miles from home with too few women to share. We are a new breed in a new world. Though the passions we bring as individuals to the dance will be the same basic feelings all men and women have shared since the beginning of time, the intensity must be different, and the balance between the sexes has altered most of all. It may also be the case that our societies in Europe are evolving at a different pace from that of Latin America, though not, I suspect, in a different direction. In Europe today, women have immense power, status, and influence, and they express their needs very clearly. The modern European woman is unlikely to respond too positively to macho posturing… It seems women like their men to be positive, but they also want finesse and thoughtfulness. Women hate to be bullied. They prefer to be invited and to feel that they are in full control to accept, or decline, as they feel. Accepting an invitation is not ‘surrender'... When you think about tango being danced way back at the beginning of the 20th century by earthy men in bordellos, hungry for a woman’s touch, closeness between a man and a woman was the business they were in. It was in the ‘sanitizing’ of tango for the more genteel public and the wider world audience that the open embrace evolved.”

The author's superiority regarding things he apparently has little understanding of is absurd. Traditional tango is not bullying, nor is open-embrace tango all that genteel. To suggest that people who dance in close embrace are somehow “dirty” and less civilized than those who dance in open embrace is both preposterous and hypocritical (see Artistic Sublimation and Vulgarism in Tango).

What concerns me most, however, is his perception of "gender equality," which reveals a canting bias against the traditional gender roles in tango and the attempt by some people in Europe and North America to turn tango into a gender-neutral dance.

While we support those who struggle with gender identity, it's equally important to acknowledge that most people are comfortable with their gender—and they find joy, strength, and authenticity in expressing it. Most men that I know are proud of their manhood and masculinity, and they behave, function, and dance as men. Most women that I know embrace their womanhood and femininity, and they behave, function, and dance as women. Men and women are different; they need, complement, complete each other, and are attracted to each other because of that (see Tango and Gender Interdependence).

Women bear and nurture life; men support, protect, and provide. They play different roles in life and tango, which nobody, certainly not modern people, should feel ashamed of. True modern people do not believe that women must act and dance like men in order to be equal—they can be women and still equal with men. True modern people recognize that femininity and masculinity both have intrinsic worth. They see relationships not as power struggles but as partnerships based on love and mutual respect. They do not view decent intimacy between men and women as filthy, and they are not chauvinistic, especially toward a people whose art they are deeply indebted to and whose culture they may not yet fully comprehend.

As I wrote in another post: “The idea of tango is to welcome another person into your personal space—to accept them, be considerate, cooperative, yielding, and accommodating; to surrender and become one; to listen deeply to their unspoken emotions; to share intimacy; and to bring them love, joy, and contentment. This is a stark contrast to the values dominant in our modern culture: individualism, independence, self-interest, and aggression” (see Tango—The Art of Love).

Contrary to the author's assumption, surrender in tango is mutual. It is in surrender that we stop competing and begin adapting. Tango resonates in the modern world because it offers something our contemporary culture often lacks: connection, intimacy, and the transcendence of ego. It allows us to be one with each other in an intimate relationship devoid of the bias of the last century. Tango is the opposite of hypocrisy. It transforms us into better, healthier, more authentic, natural, connected, cooperative, accommodating, and cohesive people.

Those who prefer political correctness to decent humanity, individualism to partnership, gender neutralization to gender expression, alienation to intimacy, egoism to humility, and power struggle to love live in the shadow of the past. They are evolving at a different pace from that of Latin America, and not in the same direction as the author thought. They certainly do not represent the future of tango.

Three Theories on Leading

The traditional theory of leading in Argentine tango is the drive theory, which defines the lead as a driving force. According to this theory, the man acts as the "driver," guiding the woman’s movements with his torso. This approach reflects traditional gender roles and the macho culture of Argentine tango: the man holds the woman gently yet firmly as she leans slightly forward, resting in his embrace with her chest against his and her arm around his shoulder. In this setup, the woman does not need to plan or initiate steps; she simply surrenders, allowing him to lead her movements. Through the torso-to-torso connection, he can easily guide her by propelling her forward, rotating his torso to make her step to his side, twirling his torso clockwise or counterclockwise to make her revolve around him, swaying her torso to bring her free leg to swing, swiveling his torso to make her produce a planeo, or reversing the swivel to elicit a boleo, and so on. The drive method is popular among feeling-oriented dancers who are drawn to the warmth of the embrace, the sensation of two connected bodies moving in sync to the music, and the deep, soulful communication between partners. For them, tango is a highly synchronized experience. What makes a good leader is his ability to use his body to shape the movement of the woman. What makes a good follower is her ability to synchronize her movement to his. Steps serve primarily to facilitate the embrace, allowing both partners to move harmoniously. Feeling-oriented dancers prefer simple steps to avoid complexity and distraction, focusing instead on the music, connection, feelings, communication, and achieving a sense of unity. This theory underpins the milonguero style of tango.
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An alternative theory is la marca theory, which defines the lead as a series of signals or marks. In this approach, the lead might involve a push on the follower's palm, a pull on her back, a tap on her side, a drag of her hand, a sideways application of strength with his arms, or contact from thigh to thigh, among others. These signals act as codes, conveying the leader’s intentions. According to this theory, “Mastering tango is mastering the making of signals” (Tango: The Art History of Love, by Robert Farris Thompson). One disadvantage of this method is that it encourages leading with the arms and hands, diverging from the traditional drive method that uses the torso to lead. Another issue is the lack of standardized signaling: each dancer may develop their own marks, requiring the follower to interpret idiosyncratic cues. This variability can lead to inconsistency, miscommunication, and discomfort. Nevertheless, this approach has significantly influenced tango’s evolution. Because signals often produce varied responses, the leader must be flexible and responsive, shifting tango toward a less synchronized and more reactive dance. The Villa Urquiza style of tango, characterized by a looser embrace and an emphasis on footwork guided more by the arms and hands, is closely associated with this theory.

A more unconventional theory is the invitation theory, promoted by some in the West who, influenced by liberal ideologies such as individualism, feminism, and political correctness, challenge traditional gender roles. Advocates of this approach prefer an open embrace that allows for greater independence and personal expression. This theory defines the lead as an invitation—the leader's role is to offer proposals, while respecting the follower's choice in how she responds. The process is described as follows: “The leader ‘invites’ the lady to enter a room. She accepts the invitation and, in her own time, enters, and he then follows. In a sense, therefore, the leader has become the follower” (A Passion for Tango, by David Turner). This approach changes tango in several fundamental ways. First, it alters the embrace from an A-shaped frame to an H-shaped one, allowing each partner greater independence but reducing the intimacy between them. Second, the absence of torso contact forces dancers to rely on their arms and hands for communication—even though, ideally, these should remain relaxed and uninvolved in leading. Third, this method only works if the follower is experienced enough to interpret subtle torso cues. Otherwise, the leader may resort to using his arms and hands, which can feel uncomfortable, coercive, or confusing when his arms and hands move inconsistently with his torso (see Men's Common Mistakes in Tango). Finally, even if the follower can read the torso, the lack of direct contact makes the lead more ambiguous, giving her greater interpretive freedom and requiring the leader to adapt to her responses. As a result, their roles become more fluid, with less emphasis on synchronization and greater focus on individual expression. This shift transforms tango from a feeling-oriented, intimate experience into a performance-oriented dance centered on visual flair and personal style. (See The Styles of Tango.)

Tango Is a Feeling

We often hear that steps are tango’s “vocabulary.” Like words, steps are tools—a medium through which music and emotion find expression. At its core, tango is not about the steps themselves; it’s about what those steps express. As someone famously put it, “Tango is a feeling that is danced.”

Defining feelings is no simple task. They span a vast spectrum—emotions, sentiments, moods, daydreams, euphoria, sorrow, excitement, and even the elusive duende. In essence, tango evokes a unique state of mind—one in which we feel most alive: exuberant, creative, fluent, eloquent, and fulfilled. Yet this state is often fleeting and elusive. It can arise unbidden, unpredictably—or not at all, even when we long for it. Still, anyone who has truly felt it knows its power. For many of us, that feeling is what makes tango so profoundly addictive (see The Psychology in Tango).

One of tango’s most potent keys to unlocking deep emotion is its music. High-quality tango music is essential for a truly satisfying experience. It awakens our imagination, frees our expression, and fuels our creativity on the dance floor. The most compelling music—marked by clear rhythms, evocative melodies, and emotional depth—does far more than provide structure. It resonates within us, stirs our soul, sets our mood, and elevates us into that rare, transformative state of mind. When we reflect on a memorable milonga, it is not the sequence of steps that lingers in our memory but the emotional resonance created by exquisite music and meaningful connections.

Yet music alone isn’t enough. The embrace is equally vital. Tango’s essence lies, perhaps most profoundly, in the embrace (see The Fourteenth Pitfall of a Tanguera). Contrary to what beginners may think, the embrace is not just a physical frame or hold. It is the connection that unites us, the communication that links our hearts, the intimacy that comforts our souls, and the physical touch that sparks chemistry. The embrace fulfills our profound needs, providing connection, belonging, and a sense of completeness. It brings us back to something primal and comforting—the warmth of a mother’s chest, the protection of a father’s arms, the cradle of infancy, the safety of home. Tango reminds us that we are not our best when we are alone, but when we are together. In its purest form, tango is a longing for “home,” found in one another as we dance, becoming whole through unity. Without the embrace, tango loses its soul and becomes just another dance.

If the embrace is essential, so too is the partner. That transcendent feeling is impossible to reach when dancing with someone who doesn’t understand how to truly embrace (see The Connection between Partners). Unfortunately, a pedagogy centered solely on steps often produces such dancers. They avoid closeness, lean away to create space, cling mechanically, and remain emotionally absent. These dancers miss the very heart of tango.

Dancing tango is akin to holding a baby in your arms, singing a lullaby while gently rocking her to sleep, or resting comfortably in a parent’s embrace, swayed tenderly by a hymn into a dream. Tango is warm. It’s safe. It’s shared. Its music, its embrace, and its rhythmic movement combine to cast a hypnotic spell, carrying us to a place so blissful we hesitate to return when the tanda ends (see The Cradle Effect). Yes, steps are necessary—but only to serve the embrace, to keep us moving together. Tango mirrors a real-life relationship: full of challenges, but sustained by unity, support, trust, and love. It demands surrender, devotion, and the courage to stay connected (see Tango Is a Relationship).

If you can see tango from this perspective, I guarantee you will experience a completely different dance—intimate, romantic, comforting, dreamy, soulful, and deeply satisfying (see Tango and Romanticism).

The Tango in All of Us, by Beatriz Dujovne

At the end of our quest, a question remains unanswered: What is the power in the heart of this dance? Why does the tango - born of the angst inherited from the 19th century and the tensions of the 20th - speak so compellingly to people of the 21st century now?

Something in it feeds our hunger for being on a level with others. Something in it understands our rebellion and soothes our longing for “home,” giving us a sense of belonging and a shared communication that knows no barriers. Something in it mirrors our nostalgia. We are nostalgic, each of us, historically: we all have emigrated from the warm, the safe, and the personal. Our feelings parallel those of the inventors of tango, who left their familiar homes to arrive in a city where they saw their dreams for a better future crushed by an unexpected reality. They had to reinvent themselves and adapt to a world of sudden and rapid change. Our world no less than theirs puts us face to face with a grave uncertainty about the future: they did not know if they could survive in the small locality of the Rio de La Plata; we do not know if we can survive in a global world that veers us away from our most precious possessions - our subjectivity and our hearts.

The malaise of our times - the philosophy “any gain is good” - demands that we look outside for direction, that we put our status ahead of our hearts, that we treasure possessions over human connections and subjective fulfillment. What we lose in these exchanges are our “homes,” our hearts, our values. We are irredeemably nostalgic for that. Historically we have arrived at a nightmare of greed and its consequences: terror, endless competition, infinite careerism, alienation.

We are not only nostalgic. The “any gain is good” attitude is the culprit of another malaise: we are developing the uncanny homesickness that descends upon people who are still at home but feel estranged from the place they have lived all their lives. It has been called “solstalgia”: it occurs when ecological changes leave people watching their gardens becoming infertile, their birds disappearing, their crops and animals perishing.

The 19th century-born tango understands our 21st century “algias,” our nostalgia and solstalgia, our isolation-algia, our fragility, our immigrant condition, our anger at human-manufactured threats to life. That’s how this dance of tenderness and connection eases our return to a safe and warm “home.”

Whether as music, dance, poetry, lifestyle, or identity, the tango still fulfills human needs and soothes our 21st century angst. This is its power, but… is this all that propelled it to rise above cultures and to resonate around the globe? As I pondered this question, I flashed back to two experiences. I copy them here from my life notes; this is the first:

I wanted to participate in the miracle of birth, as an observer. The mother had to be someone I did not know. I was allowed into the delivery room, which was the mother’s private hospital room. Decorated in shades of green, everything was impeccably sterile.

When labor began, the “all” of life looked me straight in the eyes. There it was, staring me down. At its rawest. Unedited.

Mother’s ecstasy. Mother’s agony. Cries of joy. Cries of pain. Hard labor. Sweat. Blood. Strange body materials. Malodorous fluids. A mother’s body without will. Nature pouring her insides out. A thunderstorm agitating the ocean.

A mother’s suffering became a baby’s head, then a baby’s body, then a little person who could cry his very own terror out loud with his brand new lungs. This now human being could only calm down when his father’s arms held him securely and tightly close to his chest.

The birthing mother could have been an English queen surrounded by an entourage of caretakers, giving birth in the luxury of a palace. Or a woman from the Argentine pampas. Or a Muslim with a veil. The baby could have been any color. As never before, the basic common experience of all mothers and all babies struck me as being uncannily identical.

In that delivery room, I felt myself made of the “stuff” tango is made of: the beautiful and the ugly, the joy and the pain, the blood and the sweat, the fragrances and the odors. Tango has earth in its soul. It melts down differences by zeroing in on our commonality. Tango is all of us in life’s common places. It is who we are at the core, behind our social masks.

How is it that other social dances do not take us there? I believe that the physical tango embrace is a one-second ticket to emotions so old we do not have names for them, to the moment we enter this world as a creature. In the embrace, we are held in the same exact vertical position against someone’s chest, feeling safe and connected, engaging in a myriad of bodily duets. This ineffable universal “home,” the beginning of our ontology, still matters to us in that zone of the “unconscious,” where present and past are one and the same.

I heard the sound of silence during my visit to the Galapagos Islands, off the coast of Ecuador, in the wildlife that inspired Charles Darwin, in the habitat that remains largely as it was when he studied it. We were not supposed to disturb the animals while touring the islands. When we encountered, on our narrow path, the Blue-footed Boobies with their white and black outfits and blue painted feet, they did not walk away or fly off. We humans stopped in our tracks. Then we detoured so as not bother them.

They owned the place. The familiar differences between urban animals and humans did not exist in Galapagos. In that semi-pristine landscape, it was crystal clear that they had more rights than we did… Detouring around them, we reached the ocean; a sea lion had given birth in the beach. I could tell because a solitary placenta was basking in the sun, waiting to become food for another species. Perfect cycles of nature: one’s discard becomes food for another.

On that beach, for the first and only time in my life, I listened to a new sound of silence. Not the one that results from absence of noise. A silence that enveloped the earth and the skies and everything in a larger dimension, where human and animals lived in a shared space and had equal rights. This zone transcended both our species.

The delivery room and the Galapagos confronted me with something basically human… maybe bigger than human… cosmic perhaps.

In bother memories I encountered a point, as it is at the beginning of life and (I imagine) as it is at the end of life. Between these two points, we do the dance of life that pushes them apart… We grow away from our common stock, from our one same story, believing that our different affiliations to country, religion or ethnicity separate us. We kill for those beliefs. And in many cultures we deny our bodies as inferior to our minds and spirits. Tango bypasses all these camouflages of the self and goes right into the ineffable zone of the cosmic where we were in the first place, to that ineffable story of sameness, those points where our bodily nature screams its existence.

Tango’s power also resides in how it works in our psyches from the inside. The carnal embrace destabilizes our polar tendencies, while giving us a visceral sense of being more complete. The dance is a meeting ground of opposites and synthesis of the extremes that are in our very cores: man and woman, masculinity and femininity, oneness and separation, spirituality and carnality - all of these universally human polarities clash and blend in the embrace. We dance our man and woman to the fullest, in halves that need and complement each other. Yet, in this dance where the polar genders meet, I feel strands of androgyny that we dance, that we hear in the music, that we experience in the poetic text and in the singing. Many compositions insist on the beat; they seem more masculine. Others are melodically slower and gentler; they seem more feminine. Others balanced in their melodic and rhythmic aspects. Men and women singers switch from grave “masculinity” to tender “femininity” in voice and feeling in a fraction of a second. So do poets, who, in a macho culture, felt free to express their “feminine” emotions.

The opposites of oneness and separation do their own dance as well. The embrace summons us back to a wonderful oceanic experience, where two of us become one - for three minutes - until we recover our boundaries. The distinguished psychoanalyst Otto Fenichel used the expression “oceanic” to refer to the blurring of boundaries between self and world (which is uncannily similar to the experience of “merging” reported by dancers in moments of transport). It is a wonderful metaphor for the connection we feel but that others cannot see. In certain moments of the dance we go back to the ocean. In the rhythmic tides of the music we rise and fall; we are waves with a form that merge with the water, but that soon enough acquire individuality again. As dancers directly or indirectly told us, even in nonspectacular moments, we often feel snatches of a vast zone beyond ourselves and a sense of connection to more than what our senses perceive.

Not only does the dance fulfill needs, but it also confronts us with our ineffable nature, with a mystery our minds cannot understand but our emotions do.

Whether as dance, lifestyle or identity, song lyric or alternative culture, the tango has proven itself able to fulfill universal human needs. Most popular dances celebrate the happy side of life and put the tragic off to the side; the tango speaks to our pain and losses without trivializing or erasing them. Instead by in fact confronting and intensifying what is usually left in the margins, it summons us back to our realness.

Its initial spread and its current resurgence around the world show that, despite the disparities of time and place, language, skin color, religion or social status, we find ourselves, we find each other, we find the tango’s strength in strangers’ arms.


Beatriz Dujovne. In Strangers' Arms: The Magic of the Tango. North Carilina: McFarland & Company, 2011.

The Styles of Tango

Many terms are used to describe different styles of tango, such as tango milonguero, tango apilado, tango Villa Urquiza, estilo del centro, estilo del barrio, the salón style, tango de salón, tango fantasia, tango Nuevo, and tango para exportar.

The origins of various dance styles lie in human psychology. People who are feeling-oriented tend to focus on inner experiences. These dancers, many are milongueros, developed the milonguero style of tango, also known as tango milonguero or tango apilado. It is danced in a close embrace with a slightly leaning (apilado) position, featuring intimate physical contact and simple steps to emphasize connection and feelings. This style is commonly seen at tango clubs in downtown Buenos Aires, where crowded floors prevent elaborate movements, hence its nickname, "estilo del centro" or downtown style. The milonguero style prioritizes embrace and feelings.

On the other hand, dancers who are movement-oriented tend to focus on steps and action. These dancers, many are also milongueros, developed the Villa Urquiza style of tango—also known as the salón style—which is danced in a loose embrace with an upright posture to facilitate stylish movements. These action-oriented dancers like to dance at neighborhood clubs, such as Club Sin Rumbo in Villa Urquiza, where open dance floors allow for elaborate movement, hence the term "estilo del barrio" or neighborhood style. The Villa Urquiza style prioritizes footwork and impression.

The Milonguero style and the Villa Urquiza style are commonly recognized as tango de salón, or social tango. Social tango is a loose term—broad enough to encompass stylistic differences yet narrow enough to exclude anti-social behaviors. Social dancers may be feeling-oriented or movement-oriented, but they all dance at clubs and abide by the milonga codes.

Social tango dominated Buenos Aires' culture from the mid-1930s to the mid-1950s, a period known as tango’s Golden Age. Between 1940 and 1950, some 23 dancers—who were even more movement-oriented than their Villa Urquiza colleagues—met regularly at Club Nelson to develop novel steps. The result is a new style known as tango fantasia. The names of these 23 dancers are listed in Robert Farris Thompson's book, Tango, the Art History of Love. Danced mainly in an open embrace, tango fantasia dramatized tango with fancy movements and elaborate choreography and distinguishes itself from improvisational social tango by employing rehearsal and not conforming to the milonga codes. The purpose of this style is stage performance; therefore, it is also known as stage tango, show tango, performance tango, and exhibition tango (see Social Tango and Performance Tango).

From 1955 to 1983, Argentina was ruled by military juntas whose policies discouraged social tango. Curfews were enforced, and pedestrians were frequently stopped by the military police. Many were arrested or simply disappeared for association with the previous, pro-tango regime. As a result, people stopped dancing socially, and tango went underground. The absence of social tango during this period gave tango fantasia an opportunity to take the stage. When military rule ended in 1983, it was this style that led to the revival of tango (see Tango: Historical and Cultural Impacts).

The renaissance was led by a group of stage performers who brought their show, Tango Argentino, to Paris and New York City in 1983 and 1984, where they ignited enthusiasm for their style of tango. Seizing the business opportunity, these professional dancers began teaching tango fantasia to Europeans and Americans, thus spawning the tango Nuevo movement that catered to foreign tastes. Because tango Nuevo incorporated many non-tango elements, such as exotic music and eccentric steps, it ceased to be the tango in its original sense. For this reason, milongueros despise it and call it "tango para exportar," or tango for export. (See Three Theories on Leading.)

Tango—The Art of Love

One of the unspoken protocols in tango is to avoid blaming, criticizing, or advising your dance partner—unless that role has been explicitly entrusted to you. Milongueros adhere strictly to this code because they understand its importance. Recently, two of my students had a serious falling-out. What began—perhaps with good intentions—quickly spiraled out of control: she made a comment about his leading, and he responded with a remark about her following. Words escalated into insults, and the result was two broken hearts. They may never dance together again.

Learning tango is much like learning a language: it demands time, patience, and dedication. Dancers with fewer than five years of experience are still considered novices. These beginners often feel the most frustration. They long to dance well, yet they’re unsure how to get there. There's so much still to learn, including the etiquette of the milonga. Each novice faces unique challenges and carries opinions about others, yet seasoned dancers often avoid partnering with them. As a result, novices tend to remain within their own circle, where frustrations can turn into mutual blame. Ironically, the faults they see in each other are often reflections of their own struggles. When one accuses the other of stiffness, the feeling is likely mutual. And by the time they’ve finally mastered the steps, hurt feelings and strained relationships may linger.

What many beginners fail to realize is that, whether they like it or not, the people they learn tango with often become the most significant figures in their tango journey. In most cities, the tango community is small, and these early companions may be dance partners for years to come (see 惜缘 – Cherishing the Connection of Fate). It is wiser, then, to accept one another and allow space for mutual growth. In life, when we like someone, we offer compliments. If we tell someone they’re unattractive, chances are they won’t want to see us again. The same principle applies in tango. If you want to dance with someone, always speak positively about their dancing—even when they ask for honesty. How many spouses have gotten into trouble by offering too much honesty? Tango, after all, is not just a dance—it is a relationship, thus the art of love (see Tango Is a Relationship).

Robert Farris Thompson wrote in his book, Tango, the Art History of Love, that tango “is the dance that teaches the world to love.” The idea of tango is to welcome another person into your personal space—to accept them, be considerate, cooperative, yielding, and accommodating; to surrender and become one; to listen deeply to their unspoken emotions; to share intimacy; and to bring them love, joy, and contentment. This is a stark contrast to the values dominant in our modern culture: individualism, independence, self-interest, and aggression. Hopefully, tango will make us a better person who treats others with respect, appreciation and love, accept them as who they are, and put others instead of oneself at the center of one's life and dance. Until then, we are not qualified as tango dancers and cannot dance tango well anyway (see A Dance that Teaches People to Love).

Tango: Historical and Cultural Impacts

Today, Buenos Aires is home to one-third of Argentina’s 45 million people. But in the early 19th century, it was just a small town inhabited by Spanish colonists, Indigenous South Americans, and Black slaves. In May 1810, inspired by the French Revolution, the Argentine people rebelled against Spanish rule and declared independence. The new government, eager to reshape the country, encouraged immigration from Spain, Italy, and other parts of Europe. By the end of the 19th century, the original population of Buenos Aires had been largely displaced by European newcomers. Although tango has African roots, it was primarily shaped by these European immigrants who arrived in the late 19th and early 20th centuries to help build modern Buenos Aires.

The immigrant origins of tango are deeply significant. Far from their homelands, largely male, and burdened with hardship, these newcomers were often consumed by loneliness and nostalgia. They came to the milonga—the social dance gathering—not just to dance, but to seek solace, companionship, and emotional connection. Tango became their refuge, a way to escape grief, express yearning, and feel human touch. The dance’s intimate, soulful, and sensual nature reflects these inner emotional needs. This is why tango is danced in a close embrace—chest against chest, face touches face—where dancers communicate emotion through movement, stirred by the music. Tango music, too, was composed to evoke longing. Its rhythm is masculine—sharp, assertive, and forceful—while its melody is feminine—soft, moody, and lyrical. These contrasting forces intertwine like the dancers themselves, capturing the dynamic between man and woman (see The Characteristics of Classic Tango).

Tango reached its peak between 1935 and 1955, a period known as its Golden Age. But after this flourishing era came a Dark Age that lasted nearly three decades. In 1955, a military coup overthrew the democratically elected president, Juan Domingo Perón. He and his wife, Eva Perón, had supported tango as part of their populist agenda. The new anti-Peronist regime viewed tango with suspicion. Curfews were enforced, military police patrolled the streets, and many were arrested or disappeared due to their political affiliations. As public gatherings became dangerous, tango was driven underground. During this time, tango music was composed mostly for listening, not dancing. The revival began with Argentina’s return to democracy in 1983. Since then, tango has enjoyed a global resurgence and is now danced across Europe, North America, and beyond.

As one BBC commentator observed, “Tango contains a secret about the yearning between men and women.” In many cultures, physical intimacy between the sexes is seen as inherently sexual and therefore taboo. In such societies, touch between men and women is generally reserved for romantic or sexual relationships. Argentine tango, however, reflects a different cultural perspective—one that embraces innocent intimacy. Shaped by a tight-knit immigrant society with strong Spanish and Italian roots, Argentinians developed a culture where close, nonsexual contact was seen as natural and even necessary. Tango celebrates this kind of intimacy. Its triumph lies in the idea that physical closeness can be decent, human, healthy, and beautiful.

This triumph, however, came at a cost. Many things changed after the Golden Age. The immigrant population settled, gender ratios normalized, many old dancers passed away, and a generation grew up disconnected from tango. The only form of tango that survived the Dark Age was stage tango. As a result, when tango began to reemerge in the 1980s, it was through the efforts of stage performers who brought their show, Tango Argentino, to Europe and North America, where they sparked enthusiasm for this theatrical style—tango fantasía—differs significantly from the social tango of the Golden Age.

The tango danced during the Golden Age is known as tango de salón, or social tango. It is a popular, inclusive dance, tailored to the tastes, needs, and abilities of everyday people. This style is danced on crowded floors for personal enjoyment. Intimate, improvisational, and feeling-oriented, it uses a close embrace with significant physical contact and is guided by the milonga codes. Its simple, compact steps allow dancers to focus inwardly on the emotions evoked by the music and the sensations of two connected bodies moving in sync. Social tango offers a warm, soulful, and deeply personal experience. What matters is how it feels, not how it looks.

Tango fantasía, on the other hand, is designed for stage performance. It is a theatrical rendition of tango, featuring intricate choreography and advanced techniques suited for trained professionals. Unlike improvisational social tango, tango fantasía is choreographed and rehearsed, typically danced in an open hold to enable expansive movements. Its steps are wide, elaborate, and often dangerous, requiring ample space. It is not intended to provide an intimate, soulful, or personal experience, but to showcase flashy figures and dazzling movements to entertain an audience. This form of tango does not adhere to the milonga codes and is ill-suited for crowded dance floors. Safety, comfort, and user-friendliness are not its priorities. What matters is how it looks, not how it feels (see Social Tango and Performance Tango).

Without the same cultural backdrop, Europeans and Americans gravitated more toward tango fantasía. They hadn’t experienced the immigrant struggle, hardships, gender imbalance, homesickness, and nostalgia. Their dance floors were less crowded. Their social norms does not endorse innocent, nonsexual intimacy. Furthermore, their teachers were stage performers from Argentina, who naturally emphasized showmanship. As a result, tango fantasía became the prevailing style in Europe and North America.

Nevertheless, the renewed global interest in tango rekindled the pride of Argentinians for their traditional dance. Milongas reopened, porteños returned to the dance floor, tango clubs and bars once again thrived. Tango music, fashion, and tourism flourished. Buenos Aires reclaimed its place as the Mecca of tango, drawing dancers from around the world eager to experience the authentic style. But visitors quickly noticed a difference—the tango they had learned at home was not the tango danced in Buenos Aires.

After experiencing the magic of close-embrace tango, most visitors were reluctant to return to the open-embrace style. Some chose to stay in Buenos Aires, while others brought their newfound knowledge back home, spreading the message. Each year, more people travel to Buenos Aires to immerse themselves in the traditional tango culture. As a result, a quiet shift is underway in Europe and North America, gradually moving from open embrace to close embrace. This transformation may take time, but it feels inevitable.

Tango exists to fulfill a human need (see Why People Dance Tango). Its form must serve its purpose. Trends come and go, but what is fundamental and essential endures. As more people discover the allure of close-embrace tango, and as milongas grow more popular and dance floors crowded, dancers will naturally move toward the close-embrace style. In time, what belongs to the stage will once again separate from what belongs to the social dance floor.

Here is an example of the tango danced in the milongas of Buenos Aires.

Dissociation and the Gear Effect

To pivot effectively, a woman must anchor her weight on the ball of her foot, rotating as if around a fixed pin. However, she does not turn her entire body—only the lower half, from the waist down. The waist serves as a swivel, linking the upper and lower body. Because her torso remains connected to her partner’s in the embrace, she must rotate her lower body sideways to move around him. This technique is known as dissociation.

An experienced dancer understands that a subtle twist of her torso by the man should result in a significant rotation of her lower body. He leads by gently turning her torso in the intended direction. Upon receiving this signal, she must swivel her hips and pivot accordingly. In this twisted posture, she can place her right leg alongside his right or her left alongside his left, all while maintaining the connection between their torsos in close embrace. This hip rotation need not be extreme—a 45° turn is usually sufficient to step to his side. However, certain movements—such as the molinete, gancho, and back sacada—require a greater degree of rotation.

It is important to distinguish dissociation from contra body movement (CBM). CBM involves rotating the right side of the torso toward a moving left leg, or the left side toward a moving right leg. In contrast, dissociation occurs when either the upper or lower body rotates independently of the other. The former—turning the upper body while the lower remain stable—is similar to CBM and relatively easy to perform. The latter—keeping the torso still while swiveling only the hips—demands far more control and practice. When training dissociation in front of a mirror, dancers should focus on keeping the torso steady while rotating the hips, avoiding the common error of compensating by twisting the upper body.

A classic figure that demonstrates dissociation is the front ocho, in which the woman traces an “S” on the floor with one leg, then with the other, forming the shape of an “8.” She begins by swiveling her hips and stepping forward to one side of her partner. As she transfers her weight to the active leg, she swivels again and steps forward in the opposite direction, before finally returning to face him. The back ocho follows the same principle in reverse: she swivels her hips, steps backward to one side, then swivels again to step backward to the other. With enough hip rotation, she can even travel forward while performing the back ocho, or backward while performing the front ocho. Another example is the molinete, where the woman revolves around her partner, who acts as the pivot point. In all these figures, her torso remains aligned with his while her hips move fluidly from side to side. This technique complements a woman’s natural flexibility and emphasizes her feminine beauty, as her hips turn continuously while her chest stays connected to his.

This hip rotation produces a natural rolling of her chest against her partner’s in close embrace—a sensation known as the gear effect. The chest is the central point of connection in tango, the space where partners communicate intention, interpret music, express emotion, and engage in subtle flirtation. Rather than holding her torso rigidly against his, the woman should allow it to roll gently as her hips rotate. With each swivel, her chest shifts slightly from one side of his torso to the other, and then back again.

This rolling motion should be smooth and understated, never abrupt or exaggerated, in order to preserve both comfort and flow. In most cases, it feels like a soft transfer of weight from one breast to the other. A novice dancer who lacks dissociation may either rotate her entire body—breaking the embrace—or merely cross her legs without swiveling her hips, resulting in a static, unmoving chest. Tango is a dance of physical interaction, where partners engage each other in a tactile dialogue to create an intimate and harmonious experience. A seasoned woman understands how to use her body to comfort her partner, just as an experienced man knows how to showcase her beauty (see Revealing her Beauty in Tango).

The gear effect intensifies the sensual pleasure of the dance—a hallmark of close-embrace tango that is absent in the open-embrace style. This distinction is one of the key elements that sets the two styles apart.

Issues of Balance and Lightness in Dance

The sensation produced by changes in the body's position and movement is known as the sense of equilibrium. This sense is governed by the semicircular canals and vestibule in the inner ear. When these organs are impaired—due to illness, medication, or alcohol abuse—balance becomes difficult to maintain. Fortunately, balance can be improved with practice. Female gymnasts, for instance, perform challenging routines on a balance beam. Acrobats depend on finely tuned equilibrium to walk the high wire. Similarly, experienced dancers develop a refined sense of balance that allows them to execute complex movements with control and grace.

In dance, we rely on the legs and precise steps to keep balance. All tango dancers require a good sense of equilibrium, but this is especially crucial for the woman, who responds to the man’s lead. The man guides her by slightly shifting her body in the intended direction, but how far she moves is determined by her own ability to maintain balance. If she steps outside her stable range, she risks falling. A falling woman relies on the man for support—making herself feel heavy. While appropriate reliance enhances intimacy, constantly clinging to or tightly gripping the partner can be burdensome. The key to remain light is maintaining one’s own balance. Those who habitually rely on their partner’s support may never fully develop their equilibrium.

Tango introduces a unique challenge because the partners lean into each other for balance, forming an A-shaped frame—a mutually supportive structure. A novice woman may not realize that her role in maintaining this frame is as important as the man’s. If she leans back, she may pull him off balance. This is especially common with women who are uncomfortable with close physical contact.

Conversely, some women lean too much on the man and feel heavy. Dancing in a leaned posture requires strong back muscles. A woman with a weak back may struggle to maintain this position, especially if the man holds her low or tightly. Experienced dancers apply a balanced resistance to the forces from their partner—meeting the man's chest pressure outward and arm tension inward with symmetrical control. Too much resistance, however, can make the woman feel heavy. Balance in dance means maintaining stillness, moving at a constant speed in a straight or curved line—not engaging in a tug of war. A woman must be mindful of how much resistance she applies to avoid becoming a burden.

Inexperienced dancers rely entirely on the man to drive them. Lacking confidence or technique, they may hesitate or grip tightly with their arms and hands, which contributes to heaviness. To feel light, a woman must be self-activated rather than passively moved. Skilled dancers achieve this by using the strength of their standing leg to propel themselves, much like a self-propelled lawnmower—allowing them to feel light. Still, it’s important to strike a balance between being active and remaining receptive to the lead. A woman who moves too independently can make her partner feel like she is dancing on her own.

Men also have responsibilities when it comes to balance and lightness. They should avoid pressing down on the woman's waist, as this can restrict her movement. A tall man dancing with a shorter partner should lead with his stomach rather than bending his torso, which can force her bend backward—especially difficult if she lacks core strength. As a woman's strength and balance improve, she may be able to handle more pressure and lean more into the man to expand her movement range, even inviting support at the waist. However, men should be cautious about imitating the techniques they see advanced couples use. What works for experienced dancers may not suit every partner. Tango offers many variations; the best approach is always the one that suits both partners' abilities and comfort.

Why People Dance Tango

The reason we dance tango is deeply tied to the somber side of life. Some people claim they dance tango because they like tango music—yet music can be enjoyed at home. Others say they appreciate the elegance of the movements—but that can be found in other dance forms as well. Some argue they are drawn to the unrestrained nature of tango—but martial arts could provide similar satisfaction. Others highlight the artistic challenges of tango—though ballet arguably sets an even higher standard. If these were the only reasons people danced tango, then tango itself might not exist—because there are countless alternatives.

Tango triumphs for a unique reason. While most dances are created to celebrate life, tango serves a different purpose. It was born from the sorrows of the less fortunate, offering them a refuge. They do not come to the milonga to show off, but to expose their vulnerability and seek solace. Tango allows them to dance through their loneliness, homesickness, nostalgia, and grief. It offers a shoulder to lean on, a sanctuary for their wounds, a way to quench their thirst for love, and a chance to touch and be touched by another human being.

These are ordinary people—poor individuals, immigrants, construction workers, waiters, waitresses, shop assistants, maids, and taxi drivers. They may lack splendor in appearance, but you feel their authenticity when you dance with them. Their embrace is warm and consoling, their feelings sincere and profound, their hearts sensitive and compassionate, their movements raw and infectious, and their dance sentimental and affectionate. Tango is their catharsis of suffering, agony, yearning, and hope. Its intimate, soulful, sensual, and comforting nature reflects and fulfills their deep, innate human needs. This is the tango still danced in less affluent societies like Argentina and Uruguay.

Not everyone shares these needs, of course. The successful, the affluent, the arrogant, the superficial—they may admire the beauty of tango but fail to embrace its deeper purpose. Instead, they use tango to celebrate their lives, glorify their successes, flaunt their style, display their egos, and boast of their superiority. The traditional tango is too modest for them, so they make changes—opening up the embrace, inventing fancy steps, incorporating ostentatious tricks, and using exotic music. As a result, they created a showy version of tango that looks flashy but feels hollow. This kind of tango has now become the trend in opulent societies like ours.

Tango has weathered many challenges in the past, and it will survive this one as well, I believe. Needs, desires, yearnings, loneliness, love, interdependence, tenderness, sentimentality, and romanticism are intrinsic to human nature, even among the toughest individuals. The less fortunate people are particularly vulnerable, which is why they created tango. This may also explain why milongas are more crowded during difficult times than in prosperous ones, why more women dance tango than men, and why the revival of tango happens now when there are more travelers, immigrants and refugees in the world than ever before.

Tango will always be the dance of the lonely, homesick, nostalgic, needy, vulnerable, sentimental, and romantic. Fortunate people need tango too, provided they are not blinded by their success and arrogance. After all, we are human, and tango is for everyone who seeks to reconnect with their humanity.

Cadencia

Beginners often assume that dancing to music simply means stepping on the beat, but there’s much more to it. Cadencia—the swaying of the body to the music—is also an important part. Cadencia is one of the foundational skills essential to tango, yet it is frequently overlooked.

To learn to do cadencia, you must first learn to swing your leg. Begin by lifting the hip on the side of your free leg until the leg hangs loose, able to dangle like a pendulum. Keep both the knee and ankle straight so the leg appears long and can swing gracefully. Now, imagine that your leg does not start at the hip but at the chest, that is, visualize everything below your chest as part of your leg. Since the chest is the point of connection with your partner, it can serve as a fixed point to swing everything below as a whole. This not only makes your leg look longer but also gives your entire body a taller, more elegant appearance.

Swinging the body resembles swinging a three-sectioned cudgel. Movement begins with the torso, which propels the hip, and finally drives the leg. In other words, cadencia is a chain reaction. Novices often move their legs from the thigh alone, focusing narrowly on stepping. As a result, there is no cadencia. To produce cadencia, you must initiate the movement with your torso, which in turn swings the hip and leg. Keep your body upright and resilient to achieve a controlled, pendulum-like swing, rather than a fluttering motion like a loose ribbon.

Importantly, the swing is lateral. Many students mistakenly focus on vertical stepping and neglect the crucial side-to-side movement. To create cadencia, concentrate on the body's lateral motion, producing a pulsating rhythm with each step, much like the surging of ocean swells. Each surge propels the body into a swing, and the momentum then reverses, sending the body into the opposite swing. This rhythmic, wave-like motion—like riding a swing—is what cadencia feels like.

Cadencia is a collaborative effort, initiated by the man. Whether the follower’s body swings in time with the music depends partly on the lead. Often, the woman fails to step on the beat because her body is led into swinging too little or too much, too slowly or too quickly, preventing her foot from landing naturally on the beat. An experienced man generates just the right amount of swing to ensure the woman’s foot lands exactly on the beat. Likewise, a skilled woman times the swing of her body to the music as well. She does her part to complement the lead.

While cadencia is used in both social tango and performance tango, it is primarily a social tango technique, designed to enhance the sensual pleasure of the dance rather than creating a visual impression. Both partners must possess matching musicality and balance control to swing together—a skill that requires adequate training. Yet once mastered, the sensation of two connected bodies swinging in perfect harmony with the music transforms the dance into something infinitely more pleasurable. (See Cadencia and the Flow of Tango.)

The following video illustrates this technique:

Related videos:

Cadencia - the pendulum effect

Tango close embrace, connection, cadencia

Tango Is a Language (II)

To communicate effectively, you need to speak the same language. If you speak a different dialect, adopt an unfamiliar accent, or use self-invented words, communication becomes difficult. The same issue also poses a challenge to tango. Different leaders often lead the same step differently, and different followers respond in varying ways to the same lead. Leaders complain that followers aren’t following properly, while followers blame unclear signals. These happen often because dancers do not share a common tango language.

Many students fail to appreciate the importance of standardization. They overlook fundamentals, dismiss instructions, and ignore established standards. This tendency is especially pronounced among those who adopt unconventional approaches or seek to dance in ways that diverge from traditional tango. Some teachers also contribute to the confusion by introducing self-invented, nonstandard steps that are ill-suited for social dancing. While such innovations may be effective on stage, where routines are rehearsed with fixed partners, they cause serious problems in the milonga, where partners are randomly paired. In social settings, successful communication and harmonious improvisation hinge on adhering to shared standards. Without these common standards, dancers struggle to achieve coherence, unity, and harmony.

Social media further complicates tango's fragmented language. Many students mistakenly assume that performances they see online represent the standard. Yet most of these exhibitions are theatrical renditions of tango, differing significantly from the tango danced in milongas (see Social Tango and Performance Tango).

The tango most commonly danced in milongas is social tango, particularly the milonguero style. This grassroots form continues to thrive in Buenos Aires, attracting tango enthusiasts from around the world who come to experience tango in its native environment—at over two hundred milongas across the city. Regardless of what tango "language" you speak at home, a visit to Buenos Aires makes one thing clear: theirs is the true language of tango. If social tango is to become an international dance, it must adopt the language of Buenos Aires as its standard.

We can draw insight from the lessons of some other languages. The Chinese language, for instance, evolved into many regional dialects due to geographical separation, making communication challenging between people from different regions. Over the past century, efforts have been made to promote a standard national dialect. This goal has only been partially accomplished in recent decades, thanks to the widespread use of Mandarin in media broadcasting and school education. However, despite progress, many rural areas still speak local dialects that outsiders cannot understand.

If you're studying Chinese, you want to learn Mandarin, not a regional dialect. Similarly, if you're learning tango, you want to study Argentine tango—not Finnish tango or American tango. If your goal is to dance in milongas, you should focus on social tango, particularly the milonguero style danced in Buenos Aires—not a self-invented, localized variation practiced only within a university campus in North America. Some of these campus communities are relatively isolated, rarely interacting with other tango circles or inviting external instructors. As a result, they develop their own tango "dialects" that are unfamiliar to the broader tango community.

Likewise, foreigners visiting Buenos Aires often struggle to dance with locals because the styles they learned at home are different from the locals'. As tango spreads globally, the risk of it fragmenting into multiple "dialects" grows. Without careful attention to a common standard, we risk repeating the story of the Chinese language.

Here is how Argentinians dance tango in their milongas.