The Freedom in Tango

The freedom in tango is not the liberty of isolated individuals in a lower sense, but the freedom of the whole as an integrated and harmonious unity in a higher sense (see Pluralism vs. Monism).

In America, freedom is often understood as the sovereign right of the individual—endowed by the Creator with unalienable rights to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. This interpretation emphasizes personal autonomy and self-interest, justifying competition as both natural and necessary. American laws support and protect this competition. Education is designed to improve a person’s ability to succeed against others. Economic systems harness competitive drive to stimulate growth, often at the expense of prudent resource use, social cooperation, and equitable wealth distribution. The political system is built on partisanship to serve the special interests, fosters division rather than unity, leaving numerous social issues—poverty, homelessness, substance abuse, gun violence, unaffordable healthcare, failing education, and crumbling infrastructure—unresolved for decades (see Philosophies that Separate Two Worlds).

This civilization, based on self-interest, competition, predatory development, and irrational consumption, now faces a grave crisis. On one hand, there is unchecked greed; on the other, the depletion of natural resources. On one hand, extravagant lifestyles and massive waste; on the other, a rapidly deteriorating environment. On one hand, surging GDP; on the other, widening inequality. A handful enjoy enormous wealth while the majority struggle to get by. Clearly, the philosophical underpinnings of this system are flawed, offering little regard for justice, fairness, coexistence, equality, cooperation, and shared prosperity. It has produced a tiny minority of winners and a vast population of losers (see America Is in Big Trouble).

The Declaration of Independence states, “We hold these truths to be self-evident: that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable rights, that among these are life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness. That to secure these rights, governments are instituted among men, deriving their just powers from the consent of the governed, - That whenever any form of government becomes destructive of these ends, it is the right of the people to alter or to abolish it, and to institute new government, laying its foundation on such principles and organizing its powers in such form, as to them shall seem most likely to effect their safety and happiness.”

These words deserve renewed reflection. Do we truly understand what they mean? Is it time to reconsider the foundation upon which our society stands? Apparently, the hyper-individualistic interpretation of the Constitution has neither brought, nor likely will it bring, the safety and happiness it promises to the American people.

When tango arrived in America, few recognized that it brought a new perspective. Unlike individualism, tango does not view individuals as separate, self-interested entities, but as interconnected, interdependent team members, bound by shared purpose. Without other human beings, an individual alone is incomplete, no matter how important they may see themselves from their own perspective. In tango, no dancer can shine alone. Success is not an individual triumph, but the product of mutual cooperation. Relationships in tango are not based on competition, control, power struggle, or taking advantage of one another. They are grounded in surrender, collaboration, accommodation, and complementarity.

Resting in his arms, entrusting herself to him, feeling his masculine strength, sharing his emotions and feelings, enjoying his protection, following him freely without worry, moving with him in harmony, and letting her femininity and beauty shine to attract and satisfy him—these, for the woman, bring pleasure, security, and a realization of her value as a woman. Conversely, being with her, earning her trust, enjoying her obedience, affection, and seduction, feeling her feminine body moving in his arms, pampering her, protecting her, and showcasing her beauty—these, for the man, bring pleasure, comfort, and a realization of his value as a man. Tango reawakens the essence of a partnership untainted by power, money, or personal gain. It is a realm where every Cinderella and Tryballot enjoys the same dignity and grace as the nobility.

The allure of tango comes from its shared intimacy, connection, unity, and cooperation. Radical ideologies such as individualism, feminism, neoliberalism, and power politics stand in stark contrast to its values. In tango, the virtues are love, fraternity, kindness, submission, and collaboration. Though tango is a non-economic endeavor, as an act of cooperation its joy is shared. This principle can be extended to other areas of life as well. What is not based on self-interest does not submit to the control of the invisible hand of capital and greed. We might imagine a world where wealth, like the joy of tango, is shared fairly among all who contribute to its creation. Just as the victory of a sports team results from the cooperation of its players, so the honor is given to all team members rather than just the one who scored. Shareholding, therefore, seems to be a better way of distributing wealth than minimum wages.

How we view ourselves determines how we shape our political, economic, social, and cultural realities. Rousseau once said, “Man is born free, and everywhere he is in chains.” We have created our own chains, and it is up to us to unchain ourselves. Sadly, our civilization has not yet matured to this understanding, as evidenced once again by recent reports of torture and other injustices. To be a truly free people, we must first understand what freedom means. There is still a long way to go before we achieve the kind of freedom envisioned in our Constitution. I can only hope that tango may help accelerate this process (see Tango and Equality).

The World Needs a New Philosophy

Tango, like a single drop in the vast ocean of human civilization, reflects both the beauty and the contamination of our world. The issues we face in tango today are not merely confined to the dance—they mirror the broader challenges confronting humanity.

Just as our perception of tango shapes the way we dance, our self-perception shapes how we live and behave. Over millions of years of evolution, humankind has gradually distinguished itself from the animal kingdom. The essence of that difference can be captured in a single word: humanity. Our understanding of humanity reached its pinnacle during the Renaissance, between the 14th and 17th centuries. In contrast to today’s often distorted portrayals, the Renaissance celebrated the dignity, nobility, and beauty of the human spirit. This reawakening inspired revolutions against oppression, the rise of democracy, an explosion of creativity, scientific and technological breakthroughs, and the birth of modern civilization.

Yet, amid this progress, humanity has become increasingly alienated from itself. We have left our mark on every corner of the Earth. Farmlands replaced forests, cities supplanted farmlands, pollution displaced purity, materialism overtook idealism, extravagance superseded simplicity, competition replaced cooperation, stress overshadowed enjoyment, monopolies usurped sharing, corruption supplanted integrity, legalism overrode common sense, and individualism displaced fraternity. Self-interest and entitlement have eroded communal values and collective responsibility. Sexual liberation has challenged marriage, transgender identities have emerged in contrast to natural genders, and single-parent and same-sex families have redefined the traditional family. GMOs and synthetic foods have substituted natural nourishment, the virtual economy has overtaken the real economy, games have replaced classics, artificial intelligence has eclipsed human intelligence, and machines have displaced people.

Modernization, for all its promises, has estranged us from both nature and our own humanity. Our ecosystems are ravaged, the environment irreversibly damaged, natural resources depleted. Traditional moral values are subverted, and society is increasingly divided—by race, gender, interest groups, political factions, and nations. Ironically, the very liberty that once propelled humanity to greatness now seems to be driving us toward division, conflict, war, and self-destruction. (See Tango Is the Search for a Dream.)

I hope that someday, values like returning to nature, conservation, environmental responsibility, humanism, collectivism, equality, fraternity, cooperation, shared purpose, and harmony will supplant the ideals of egoism, radical individualism, unchecked liberalism, consumerism, materialism, self-interest, competition, aggression, power politics, conquest, and the obsession with winning. But by then, it may be too late.

The world needs a new philosophy—one not defined by narrow, self-centered, and unbalanced ideologies, but by a renewed idealism that can guide humanity toward fraternity, solidarity, generosity, cooperation, and peaceful coexistence. Hopefully, tango will play a positive role in the return of humanity, because it embodies the values that make us human. (See Philosophies that Separate Two Worlds.)

Boston Tango Marathon

Outside a few major cities, most tango communities in the U.S. remain quite small. As a result, tango enthusiasts often travel to large festivals for the chance to dance with a broader and more diverse crowd. But attending these events can be costly. A festival pass can range from $250 to $3,500; a private lesson with a renowned instructor may cost between $100 and $300 per hour. Add to that airfare ($250–$500 per person), hotel accommodations for four nights ($400–$600), and car rental and gas (around $250), and the total climbs quickly. With additional expenses like parking, tolls, and food, a couple could easily spend several thousand dollars on a single weekend—enough to fund a multi-week trip to Buenos Aires.

In recent years, tango marathons have become my favorite type of event because they allow me to focus entirely on dancing. Unlike festivals, marathons don’t include lessons, which means organizers don’t need to hire instructors. This significantly reduces costs. The environment is often more refined as well—fewer beginners, a less crowded dance floor, and more consistent adherence to milonga codes. In short, marathons offer many of the things I appreciate most about tango, without the hefty price tag.

Two weeks ago, I attended the Boston Tango Marathon. Although it was only in its second year, it was a resounding success, thanks to the dedication of its organizers and the efforts of fifty volunteers from the Boston tango community. The pass cost just $100 and included 40 hours of dancing over three days, along with meals, drinks, refreshments, and even ice cream. Clearly, the goal wasn’t profit but creating an exceptional experience for dancers. Best of all, the marathon had a unifying theme: friendship. This was emphasized throughout the weekend. Each time the host asked the crowd about the event’s theme, the entire room responded in unison: “Friendship!” It genuinely resonated.

I truly appreciate the organizers’ commitment to creating a warm and welcoming atmosphere—something that is often overlooked in the U.S., where the focus tends to fall primarily on dance technique. In Buenos Aires, by contrast, fostering a sense of community is a central part of tango culture. Guests are warmly greeted at the door, seating is carefully arranged to facilitate the cabeceo, tables are neatly dressed with clean linens, food and drinks are served directly to the table, and milonga codes are diligently observed. While in the U.S., break time is often filled with announcements, in Buenos Aires it is more commonly used to educate dancers about tango’s traditions and values.

Richard Miller once mentioned in his blog a sign he saw at Milonga Cachirulo in Buenos Aires. It read:

“Welcome to the best milonga in Buenos Aires. Tanguero friends, please pay attention:
• Here we dance milonguero-style tango and respect the codes of the milonga.
• We dance with a warm, respectful, close embrace.
• We follow the line of dance in a counterclockwise direction.
• We avoid stepping backward into the line of dance, always moving forward, as it             should be.
• We keep our feet close to the floor to avoid hitting other dancers.
• We invite women to dance through the classic ‘Cabeceo del caballero.’
• Most importantly, respect is the foundation of the milonga.
Much to our regret, not respecting these codes will make it impossible to dance at Cachirulo.”

It is this kind of care and intention that makes milongas in Buenos Aires truly special. I’m encouraged to see that some organizers in the U.S. are beginning to move in a similar direction. Tango is a dance of the dancers, by the dancers, and for the dancers. It shouldn’t take thousands of dollars to enjoy. What matters most is cultivating a warm, respectful culture through thoughtful leadership and community education. Thanks to the Boston Tango Marathon, we now have a beautiful example.

Tango Is a Fellowship

Some people approach tango purely as a skill, assuming that technical mastery alone equates to mastering the dance. This mindset often overlooks the cultural depth of tango—disregarding milonga codes, neglecting the emotional experience of others, treating fellow dancers as rivals, and focusing more on personal display than shared experience. This attitude is quite common in the United States, where the values of liberalism and individualism often clash with the collaborative nature of tango.

Liberalism, with its emphasis on individuality, independence, and personal liberty, often undervalues relationships and collective interaction. Tango, by contrast, is rooted in partnership, teamwork, and cooperation. Its essence lies not in showcasing personal skills but in shared connection, unity, agreement, and harmony—not just with a single partner, but with the broader community. More than anything, tango is a fellowship. To truly enjoy the dance, one must be fully immersed in the community; without which, even the most advanced technical skills are hollow.

For this reason, those who exclusively perform exhibition tango with a fixed partner cannot truly be considered tango dancers. Unfortunately, professional performers are often idolized by tango students, shifting the perception of tango from a communal experience to a spectacle. Yet vanity cannot nourish the soul. While technical mastery may bring momentary satisfaction, most dancers long for something deeper, eventually moving beyond exhibitionism toward the essence of tango (see The Four Stages of the Tango Journey).

Since its revival in 1983, tango has flourished in the U.S., with many American dancers now matching their Argentine counterparts in technical skill. Yet in Argentina, tango remains deeply rooted in community—more than just a performance, it is a shared tradition. The spirit of fellowship remains at its core. For tango to truly thrive here, dancers must move beyond individualism, embracing camaraderie, connection, and the collective experience. This transformation requires commitment from dancers, teachers, and organizers alike. Every aspect of our engagement—how we support our communities, interact at milongas, extend and respond to invitations, and treat one another—reflects our understanding of tango and shapes the culture around us.

As tango dancers, we carry the responsibility of nurturing this collectivism and strengthening our dance communities. Only through shared efforts can our tango truly align with the spirit of Argentine tango (see 惜缘 – Cherishing the Connection of Fate).

The Psychology in Tango

One

The attraction between the sexes can ignite such passion and creativity that Freud saw art as a sublimation of sexual desire. While sexuality isn’t the sole engine of artistic expression, Freud’s theory resonates deeply with tango. As long as we avoid interpreting sexuality in a crude or reductive way, its connection with passion, romanticism, imagination, creativity, and artistry becomes easier to understand.

After all, don’t most human pursuits ultimately stem from the instinct to survive and reproduce? Love, marriage, family, children, education, ambition, competition, inequality, deception, crime—even war—can all be traced back to that root. Sexuality can give rise to both great beauty and deep suffering. Misunderstood in vulgar terms, it has led in the past to the rejection and distortion of tango. The modern resurgence of tango reflects a more mature, nuanced understanding of human nature (see Artistic Sublimation and Vulgarism in Tango).

Two

Tango is the dance of immigrants. It was created by them, shaped by their needs, and infused with their feelings. Those who love tango are often immigrants themselves—or people who share the immigrant’s longing: for connection, for home, for love (see Tango: Historical and Cultural Impactst).

Jeanette Winterson once wrote, “I want to go anywhere that is filled with love. I want to be like a migratory salmon, relentlessly searching for the traces of love.” Her words capture the immigrant's yearning. Love and loneliness are inseparably linked. Without grasping this connection, it’s difficult to truly understand tango.

You don't have to leave your country to be an immigrant. Students attending schools far from home, college graduates stepping into society for the first time, entrepreneurs struggling alone to build businesses, migrant workers searching for jobs in big cities, homeless individuals, wandering travelers, lonely singles, women trapped in unhappy marriages, or powerless individuals oppressed by the powerful—aren't they all immigrants in their own way? In a sense, being an immigrant is part of the human condition. From the moment we are born, we begin our journey: searching for belonging, for love, for home.

And so, tango, regarded as both a refuge and a home, came into being.

Three

“What is home? Home is not a house or a place. It is the attachment, warmth, and connection we feel in this vast, mortal world. In their absence, even a mansion with a thousand rooms is just a cold building. Home is where our hearts belong, filled with affection and love.” – Xiaomu

Xiaomu is speaking about tango. Tango isn’t a house or a place—it’s a home. Without affection and love, tango becomes nothing more than a cold structure. Yet, affection and love are invisible; all people see is the building.

From her deathbed, cancer patient Yu Juan wrote: “When facing life and death, you realize that working overtime (staying up late long-term is suicidal), pushing yourself too hard, or striving for a new car or house—these are all vanities. If you have time, spend it with your children. Use the money for a new car to buy a pair of shoes for your parents. Don’t work overtime just to upgrade your home. Being with the ones you love turns even the simplest shelter into a warm place.”

Yu Juan is also speaking about tango. Tango isn’t about impressing others. It’s about cherishing connection, intimacy, and love. True happiness is simple and quiet—it belongs to you alone. However, happiness is invisible; people often chase only what can be seen.

Four

Parents tell their children, “This cake is the best.” But children don’t believe them. They’re drawn to what looks more colorful and tempting. Only after tasting everything do they realize their parents were right. They pass on this wisdom to their own children, but those children, too, don’t believe and are still enticed by what looks more appealing.

Milongueros tell beginners, “Fancy steps are useless in the milonga.” But beginners don’t believe them. They’re eager to learn flashy moves. Only after exhausting every variation do they realize the milongueros were right. They share this insight with their students, but those students also don’t believe and remain eager to learn fancy steps.

Again and again, we’re fooled by appearances. How much time and effort must be wasted before we learn this lesson?

“Happiness is actually simpler than we think. The problem is, unless we explore every possibility, endure every disappointment, climb every mountain, and suffer every fall, we won’t believe that happiness was waiting all along in the shade of that tree at the foot of the hill.” – Liu Yu

Maybe this is how most people learn. Only a few, who truly listen to those who’ve gone before, can avoid making the same mistakes.

Five

“There are two ways to live: one is by meeting others’ expectations; the other is by following your heart. The first may earn you applause—but not your own. The second may earn no applause—but you will cheer for yourself.” – Zhu Deyong

Tango is often described as a relationship, a connection, a feeling, a refuge, a home. But there’s one thing tango should never become: a performance. A performance is a dramatized show, like a glossy burger ad from McDonald's—designed solely to attract attention. Have you ever bought a burger that looked like the one in the ad?

Tango is only truly tango when it stops being a performance. Dancing tango is not about putting on a show—it’s about sharing a few intimate minutes with another person.

This doesn’t mean you shouldn’t watch videos. Just remember: tango is a feeling, not an image being danced (see Tango Is a Feeling).

Six

Feelings have gender. Men and women seek different things in tango. Strength is programmed into the DNA of males, which is why men are attracted to women—they seek comfort from them. Softness is encoded in the DNA of females, which is why women are drawn to men—they seek a sense of security. Men and women are created for one another. They attract, complement, and bring out the best in each other. This is the law of nature.

Women, you need to make him feel comfortable so that he may see you as his home.

Men, you need to lead, support, and protect her diligently so that she may find refuge in you and feel safe.

The essence of tango lies not in the visual but in the psychological: the magnetism of opposites, the harmony between masculinity and femininity, and the companionship of the sexes (see Tango and Gender Interdependence).

Seven

“If you want to remember the beauty of a flower, leave before it withers. If you want to savor good wine, stop before you're drunk.” – Li Ao

“Perhaps the most beautiful love is when you love him, and he loves you—but the two of you are not together.” – Anonymous

It makes perfect sense for tango to be brief. Lasting only three minutes, it leaves an endless aftertaste.

Eight

A poem reads: “I ran up the door, opened the staircase, put on the prayer, said the pajama, turned off the bed, got into the light—all because of the kiss you gave me when you said goodbye.” – The Kiss

Some people leave the milonga after a perfect tanda, just to preserve that unexpectedly wonderful feeling.

Tango is made to be felt. In that feeling, many find a temporary home.

The Functions of Various Body Parts in Tango

In tango, each part of the body—the head, arms, hands, torso, hips, and legs—has a distinct function. To use them in a controlled and coordinated manner, dancers must understand their roles and assign appropriate attention in the dance. Misuse of body parts is a common issue in tango.

The Head
In a close embrace, the woman may rest her head on the man’s temple, cheek, or chin, depending on their relative heights. She may also choose not to make head contact. When she does, the touch should be light and comfortable. Some women press their head against the man's head to prevent chest contact. Beginners often rely on the head for support when executing steps. These practices indicate a misunderstanding of the head’s role. Head contact is a gesture of intimacy. Dancers should dissociate the head from the body—never using it to prevent chest contact or assist movements, as both can cause discomfort and disrupt the harmony of the embrace.

The Arms and Hands
The functions of the arms and hands are more nuanced. Ideally, they serve to hold the partner gently, forming an embrace that offers support, comfort, and connection. However, arms and hands are frequently misused. Some dancers use them to coerce or resist the partner, push the partner away to avoid intimacy, hold onto the partner for balance and stability, grab the partner to assist the movements, or wrestle with the partner. Such habits turn the arms and hands into instruments of manipulation, rather than connection. Beginners must overcome the habit of relying on their arms and hands. Tango is led and followed through the torso. Arms and hands should be used solely to create a comfortable embrace. The contact of the arms and hands should be gentle and relaxed. Dancers must dissociate their arms and hands from their bodies, not using them to guide, distance, brace, assist movements, manipulate, or fight with the partner.

The Torso
The torso is the command center of tango. Tango partners use their torsos to communicate intentions, music interpretations, emotions, and to bring out the movements of their hips and legs. The intimate, emotionally expressive nature of tango stems primarily from the central role of the torso. Unfortunately, this role is often overlooked by action-oriented dancers who substitute the embrace with an open dance hold, relegating the torso to a subordinate role under the control of the arms and hands. As a result, they transform tango from a feeling-driven dance into one focused solely on movement.

The Legs
In a previous post (see The Fourteenth Pitffall of a Tangura), I cited a young woman’s insightful observation: what she called the “first-layer technique”—maintaining a comfortable embrace—and the “second-layer technique”—pursuing visual beauty—essentially reflect the roles of the torso and legs, respectively. In tango, the torso remains relatively still in the embrace, conveying intimacy, while the legs move expressively, embodying beauty. Brisk and expressive, the legs bring tango's visual elegance to life.

However, when dancers prioritize visual flair over connection, they risk sacrificing the core of tango—the embrace. Formalist dancers often fall into this trap. They treat the torso as just another moving limb, governed by arms and hands to create elaborate movements. But pursuing visual impression at the expense of the intimacy and comfort of the embrace is not worth the candle. As tango evolved—from milonguero to Villa Urquiza, to fantasia, and eventually to tango nuevo—it has followed an aesthetic trajectory that increasingly distances itself from the embrace and its associated feeling (see The Styles of Tango). I believe this path is misguided. I hold that achieving both the comfort of the embrace and the beauty of the footwork is entirely possible. Dancers should not have to sacrifice the embrace to achieve visual beauty. Many memorable performances—such as Poema by Javier Rodriguez and Geraldine Rojas, or those by Carlitos Espinoza with Noelia Hurtado and Agustina Piaggio—demonstrate that technical brilliance and emotional connection can coexist beautifully.

The Hips
These dancers excel because they skillfully use their hips, which serve as the swivel point that connects the upper and lower body. Since their torsos remain connected in the embrace, they must rotate their hips to move their legs around each other. This technique is known as dissociation in tango. Skilled tango dancers can rotate their hips to a greater degree, enabling them to step freely around each other without breaking the embrace. Dissociation is not only a physical separation but also an artistic division of labor, allowing the upper body to maintain the comfort of the embrace while the lower body expresses maximum creativity.

In contrast, the novice’s body often lack the flexiblity. An inexperienced man, therefore, tends to use his arms and hands instead of his torso to lead, while an inexperienced woman tends to turn her whole body instead of swiveling her hips, and they grip each other with their arms and hands to help themselves with movements, causing the disruption of the embrace and incoherence of the dance. You may call it by its polished label "open embrace," but the underlying reason is an inability to dance in close embrace, leading to reliance on an artificial substitute. However, this "cheating" comes at a price—it may deceive others, but not the dancers themselves. Professional dancers may use an open embrace on stage to perform for an audience. They accept this trade-off as part of their work. Yet, when they attend a milonga, they return to dancing in close embrace for personal enjoyment (see Social Tango and Performance Tango). Novices who envy the glamour of stage performances often imitate them blindly in milongas without even can embrace well. Such crude imitation only makes them appear foolish.

Conclusion
When dancing tango, the head, arms, and hands should remain relaxed, never interfere with the body's movements. The function of the torso is communicating intentions and feelings through direct physical contact, and guiding the movements of the lower body. The legs are responsible for beautifying the dance and bringing tango's visual elegance to life. The key to maximizing the beauty of the footwork while preserving the comfort of the embrace lies in the swivel of the hips. Learning tango is not about memorizing steps; it's about mastering the proper control, coordination, and use of various parts of the body. Overemphasizing movements while neglecting feelings leads to the misuse of body parts in tango.

The Fourteenth Pitfall of a Tanguera

Fish is the primary ingredient of a fish dish. Other elements—garlic, onion—may enhance the flavor, but they are not indispensable. A fish dish without garlic or onion is still a fish dish. Without fish, however, it is not.

The same logic applies to tango. Of all the elements that comprise this dance, some define its very identity—without them, it ceases to be tango. Others are peripheral, adding variety but doesn't hurt if they are more or less. We often see tangueras turn their tango into something neither fish nor fowl, because in it the supplementary superseded the primary.

So, what is the primary ingredient of tango? Many beginners assume it's the steps. They are mistaken. Steps are like garlic and onion—useful but secondary. The true essence of tango is the embrace. Without it, tango loses its soul. You are dancing tango if, and only if, you are dancing in a tango embrace, whether you use five steps or fifty.

By "embrace," I do not mean the open dance hold. Tango—often called the dance of love—originated in an intimate, full-body embrace: chest to chest, cheek to cheek, arms wrapped around one another. Lovers do not feign a hug; they touch. A simulated embrace might look similar, but the dancers feel the difference. Stage performers often adopt an open hold to accommodate choreography to please an audience. But social dancers do not tango for that; they dance to experience connection and intimacy, which is why they use the real embrace. This is the foundational distinction between social tango and all show dances, including stage tango. (See Social Tango and Performance Tango.)

Other dissimilarities all stem from this fundamental difference. Unlike other partner dances, where dancers rely on their arms and hands to communicate, tango transmits intention and feeling through the torso—which is itself a highly sensitive organ, more receptive to subtle cues than the arms and hands. By using their torsos to lead and follow, tango dancers can achieve a deeper understanding and greater synchronization.

Tango’s distinct movements are also shaped by the embrace. Since their torsos remain connected in the embrace, tango dancers must rotate their hips to navigate around one another. This technique, known as dissociation, is the bedrock of most tango steps, making tango particularly effective at showcasing the feminine beauty of a woman's pliable body (see Dancing with Hips).

The intimate embrace also makes tango an emotionally-driven dance, emphasizing feelings over movements. Although formalist dancers have made persistent efforts to elevate its visual appeal, the style they created fails to satisfy the deeply rooted yearning for connection, intimacy, and emotional communication. These needs are met only through a genuine embrace.

A young woman once offered a particularly insightful perspective: “From a girl's point of view, I think tango has two layers. The first, and most fundamental, is maintaining a comfortable embrace and letting your partner feel your complete surrender and control over yourself. If you can do that, you can get through a milonga even if you can only dance ballroom styles. The second layer is external—involving pursuing visual beauty, like in other dances such as ballet. Neglecting the first layer and focusing solely on the second layer is not tango. In most cases, if you can integrate some second-layer techniques into a solid first-layer foundation, your tango will already be quite stunning."

Her words strike at the heart of the dance. Consequently, tango becomes a simple and easy dance for her. Although we cannot dance without steps, the essence of tango lies in the embrace. Dancers should not compromise the embrace for the sake of the steps. Instead, they should keep the embrace intimate and comfortable at all times throughout the dance and use the steps to support the embrace, thereby placing the embrace and steps in the correct order.

Unfortunately, in the U.S., cultural discomfort with physical closeness and ideological emphasis on individual autonomy have shaped the way many women approach tango. To avoid touching their partner's body, novice women often adopt an open dance hold instead of the traditional close embrace. They lean back, extend their arms to create distance, press their shoulder against their partner's shoulder, or use their head against their partner's head to avoid chest-to-chest contact, resulting in an embrace that feels awkward and unnatural.

This detachment affects their dance. Instead of swiveling her hips as one must when dancing in a close embrace, women using an open dance hold often turn their entire body instead, breaking the connection and disrupting the flow of the dance. Unlike professional dancers, who can maintain proper technique in an open dance hold during performances, beginners using an open dance hold tend to develop poor habits, such as using arms and hands to help themselves with the movements, dancing without emotional involvement, unable to communicate feelings through direct torso contact, focusing on personal performance and neglecting their partner, and accustoming themselves to many other wrong ways of dancing tango.

For these reasons, I believe tango instruction should begin with the close embrace. Beginners should avoid open-hold techniques designed for performance—until they have built a strong foundation. Otherwise, the bad habits developed early on may become difficult to unlearn. I know women who have danced tango for years, yet their embrace remains rigid and uncomfortable. Such women are like porcelain vases—beautiful to behold but impossible to hold.

In another post, Women's Common Mistakes in Tango, I outlined thirteen common pitfalls of tango women, many of which relate to this issue. But the embrace is so vital, it merits a dedicated discussion. Hence, this fourteenth pitfall.

The Chivalry of the Milongueros

A century ago, at the height of Argentina’s immigration boom, Buenos Aires faced a striking gender imbalance: five men for every woman. Picture this—in a typical milonga, fifty men vied for the chance to dance with just ten women. The odds were daunting, making many men too timid to approach a woman directly. Instead, they watched from distance, waiting for the faintest nod of approval. Only then would they dare to approach the goddess. This is the origin of cabeceo (see Women's Role in Cabeceo).

Before a man could even dream of dancing with a woman, he had to dedicate months—sometimes years—practicing with other men, honing his craft until he fully grasped the dance. When he finally earned the privilege of dancing with a woman, he tread carefully—acutely aware that the slightest discomfort could cost him her favor. This deep reverence and attentiveness became a defining trait of Argentine tango culture.

With such a gender imbalance, the privilege of dancing with a woman was reserved only for men who could genuinely satisfy her. Self-absorbed dancers stood no chance against milongueros who had mastered a comfortable embrace, refined musicality, and the art of dancing for the woman. Outsiders might dismiss milongueros as idlers, but anyone who believes those goddesses, surrounded by admirers, would settle for mediocrity clearly underestimates their discernment. Even today, women direct their gaze only toward the best. They avoid men who are sloppy, insecure, lack musical sensitivity, lead with arms and hands, disregard the codes, or show poor manners, not to mention in those days. Therefore, milongueros were a group sophisticated tango elites with deep knowledge about the dance, its music, codes, culture, lunfardo, and the ways of the milonga world.

Like European knights, who were gallant, honorable, generous, and respectful especially to women, or Japanese samurais, who were loyal, courageous, and preferred death over dishonor, Argentine milongueros are a group of skilled specialists who follow certain tenets also. For them, tango is a religion and milonga codes are not only guild regulations but life principles. One may say that, though they hold no formal titles, milongueros are the Argentine counterparts of European knights, Japanese samurais, and Chinese literati. Their doctrine is the chivalry, bushido and Confucian orthodoxy of Argentina.

Times, however, have changed. Today, the gender ratio at milongas has reversed—there are more women than men now. Meanwhile, the traditional gallantry of the milonguero has come under scrutiny from feminism, which encourages women to compete with men for dominance. As a result, the admiration and reverence men once held for women has eroded. Nowadays, even novice dancers who barely able to walk stably feel entitled to impose themselves on women, using them as props for self-centered displays. One has to reckon this a failure of feminism. Feminists thought that equality could be achieved by making women as strong and aggressive as men, little did they realize that once women lose their femininity, they are no longer the goddesses in men's eyes.

Both men and women today must draw lessons from history and contemplate their interactions. Masculinity and femininity, shaped over millions of years of evolution, are nature’s way of harmonizing the sexes. For the sake of human well-being, women must preserve their femininity, and men must continue to cherish and honor women. Gender roles, far from being arbitrary constructs, are deeply tied to the survival and flourishing of the human species. Ignoring the natural laws governing the sexes can lead to devastating repercussions (see Tango and Gender Issues). I hope that men will continue to value women as they did when the ratio was five men to one woman. Likewise, I hope women will embrace their femininity and resist the pressure to become what they are not. Tango was created as a bridge to unite the sexes. I wish it remains that way (see Tango and Gender Interdependence).

Cadencia and the Flow of Tango

When we dance tango, our bodies naturally oscillate as we shift our weight from one leg to the other. This oscillation can be intensified by accelerating the body’s movement, creating a pulsating rhythm reminiscent of surging waves. Each surge propels the body into a swing, alternating directions as we change weight between legs. This technique, known as cadencia, feels like riding a swing, producing a pleasant rocking sensation—for both partners, but especially for the woman, nestled in the man's arms and being gently swayed.

The man swings the woman from one side of his body to the other. Following each swing, she swivels her hips and pivots her lower body, allowing him to reverse the direction of the swing (see Dissociation and Gear Effect). In fact, this is how an ocho is danced. When teaching the ocho, instructors often emphasize dissociation—hip rotation—but many overlook the importance of cadencia—the body’s swing. Yet, when these two elements are combined, they not only enhance the elegance of the movement but also create a rhythmic, swaying sensation that makes the dance much more enjoyable.

Executing cadencia requires both space and momentum; without them, the body cannot swing freely. This is why experienced dancers prefer to dance in the flow. When the floor is filled with seasoned dancers, you can observe a smooth, counterclockwise flow of movement, like waves surging forward in sync with the rhythm of the music. The pace of this flow is typically brisk. However, when the floor is crowded with novices, the flow slows significantly. At times it even becomes like a pool of stagnant water.

Beginners, often unaware of this flow, may remain in place practicing steps without considering the dancers behind them who are waiting to move forward. On an empty floor, this may not be a problem, but in a crowded room, it disrupts the natural traffic of the dance. Mark Word refers to such dancers as "rocks in the stream." You drive to work in the morning and suddenly there is a slow-moving car in your way, that is the same kind of feeling. Dancers on a crowded floor must avoid becoming these "rocks in the stream." This doesn't mean you can never slow down or pause—experienced dancers do so frequently—but they time their pauses to the music or to moments when there is enough space to accommodate a stop. If dancers behind you are approaching, you must keep moving to prevent a traffic jam. This is part of the código, the unwritten code that all tango dancers are expected to respect.

The Characteristics of Classic Tango

Dancing tango is not merely stepping to the beat of the music—perhaps that is how disco is danced, but not tango. Dancing tango is dancing the sentiment and emotions embedded in the music. Sentimentality is a defining characteristic of classic tango. Created by early immigrants to Argentina, tango carries the weight of their homesickness, nostalgia, yearning, and dreams (see Tango: The Historical and Cultural Impacts). Modern rock bands with their electronically amplified instruments might be able to create a more majestic sound, but they cannot replicate the lingering sentiment of classic tango. This is not only because modern electronic instruments are ill-suited to convey the emotional depth of tango, but also because contemporary rockers lack the experiences of the early immigrants. Classic tango is a product of a specific era in Argentina. The environment of its mass production has ceased to exist in modern times, but the human emotions expressed in classic tango are universal and timeless, which people of the contemporary age, especially those struggling at the bottom, can still resonate (see Why People Dance Tango). To dance tango well, one must go beyond the steps and connect with the emotions within the music.

These emotions in classic tango reflect the experiences of the men and women of its time, represented by two distinct yet intertwined moods. Classic tango is intrinsically heterosexual in character. Its rhythm is masculine—strong, resolute, steady, and predictable—while its melody is feminine—soft, emotional, moody, and lyrical. Each phrase conveys either the strength, courage, and resolve of men, or the tenderness, affection, and obedience of women. These two contrasting moods intertwine, reflecting the dynamics between the two sexes. Dancing tango, you have to imagine you are playing music with your body. The man and the woman are different instruments—one is like the bandoneón, the other the violin; one embodies the passion of the drums, the other the beauty of melody; one is philosophy, the other poetry. Each, with its unique sound, expresses a distinct emotion. Both are indispensable and irreplaceable, and they must harmonize, complementing each other to create a beautiful tango (see Gender Expression in Tango).

Those who dismiss gender roles do not know what they are doing (see The Gender Roles in Tango). The so-called “new tango” or “alternative music” they advocate often lacks the contrast that defines classic tango. It is either too soft and vague in rhythm, or too monotonous, devoid of rhythmic richness. In contrast, classic tango music was meticulously crafted to serve the dance. Unlike mushy soft pop or monotonous military marches, classic tango music pulses with a strong yet flexible rhythm full of syncopation, making it remarkably danceable. By altering the accented beats and introducing rhythmic variety, syncopation opens up numerous possibilities for footwork, allowing dancers to express complex emotions (see Tango Music and Its Danceability). Although syncopation can be challenging to grasp, leading some beginners to prefer simpler alternative music, over time, with education and experience, their tastes often evolve and change. Tango dancers need to study tango music and familiarize themselves with its melody, rhythm, tempo, syncopation, pauses, and extensions to truly understand tango and dance well.

Most classic tango songs include a vocal part, which typically does not run throughout the entire piece but weaves in and out as if in conversation with the instruments. The lyrics are commonly written in lunfardo, the old street slang of Buenos Aires’s lower classes, expressing nostalgia, homesickness, and the pain of lost love. These are the songs of immigrants. Today, only older milongueros and a handful of porteños can fully grasp their meaning. For those unfamiliar with them, following their syncopated, drawn-out syllables can be challenging. Nevertheless, these beautiful lyrics express delicate emotions and are cherished by milongueros, many of whom can sing and dance to them with remarkable ease. This is one reason why milongueros perceive their dance quite differently from foreigners. Not understanding the lyrics is a disadvantage of the outsiders, but that is not an insurmountable obstacle. By truly listening, one can still feel the emotions embedded in the music. Of course, learning the language further enhances this understanding. By the way, some foreigners know neither the culture nor the language of tango, but they thought they understand tango better than the milongueros (see Tango and Gender Equality). To me, this attitude is not only arrogant but absurd.

The Connection between Partners

Tango comes alive only when the dancers are fully immersed in the experience—the music, the sentiment, the feeling, and above all, the connection. True tango cannot happen between two novices who fixate on steps while ignoring the music, remain physically distant, emotionally detached, and unable to communicate feelings (see Tango Is a Feeling). They dance like two individuals bickering and disagreeing with each other. In contrast, experienced dancers flow together harmoniously. They lose themselves in the music, allow it to resonate within them, stiring shared emotions, and enabling them to find a deep connection. As a result, they dance like two soulmates in perfect agreement. This agreement is what makes tango so intoxicating.

What we seek in tango is this deep connection and resonance. A good partner doesn't need to be good-looking, but they must be a good match—with whom you feel a spark, a chemistry. Novice dancers often focus on the outer layers such as steps and technique. What truly matters, however, is the inner quality each dancer brings to the partnership: his masculinity, musicality, strength, leadership, protection, thoughtfulness, and finesse; her femininity, lightness, flexibility, agreeableness, adaptability, and coordination; and most important of all, the connection between them. Those who chase superficialities miss the essence of tango, just as those who overlook the soul of love

Tango and love are often compared because they share a common pursuit: connection. Both involve relationships in which the two sexes take on distinct yet complementary roles, striving for unity and harmony through mutual commitment, understanding, and cooperation. As one reader of my post The Gender Roles in Tango aptly noted, “These ideas apply to real-life relationships too.” Indeed, the principles of tango reach far beyond the dance floor. They offer profound insights into how we achieve harmony in all kinds of partnerships, be it romantic, social, or political (see Lessons from Tango).

Beginners must shift their focus from the external to the internal. Instead of fixating on steps, they should aim to merge and become one with their partner. Concentrating too much on technique may lead one to ignore their partner or to blame them for mistakes, leading to a breakdown in coordination. Focusing on becoming one with the partner, however, enables the dancer to collaborate closely, or even be conceding and yielding to make their partner feel at home, so the two may become one in the dance.

Tango is like marriage; what makes it work is not pressing your partner to follow your will, but being cooperative and accommodating. Novice women often feel comfortable dancing with a milonguero, not because the novices know their stuffs, but because the milonguero knows how to accommodate them. Surrendering, adapting, and seeking unity and harmony with one’s partner are far more essential than executing perfect steps (see Tango Is a Relationship).

Tango Is the Search for a Dream

Tango embodies the dreams, longings, and hopes of the early immigrants to Argentina. It offers a utopia—a refuge where brotherly love, intimacy, fellowship, and kindness prevail over animosity, prejudice, hatred, and pain. In this sanctuary, peace and harmony are achieved through trust, cooperation, and accommodation rather than conflict, competition, and aggression. It is a space where the two sexes complement and comfort one another, rather than clashing in hostility. Tango provides a temporary escape from the pressures and anxieties of modern life (see Tango: The Historical and Cultural Impacts).

Those who equate modernization with progress often overlook its darker consequences. In many ways, modernization has a dehumanizing effect, reshaping interconnected, interdependent societies into fragmented collections of self-sufficient yet isolated individuals. The bonds that once united communities have weakened, shifting our focus from collective well-being to personal gain. Attachment, fraternity, and shared responsibility have faded, while families disintegrate and traditional values erode. Meanwhile, ecological balance deteriorates as natural resources dwindle and the environment suffers irreversible damage. In place of unity and interdependence, egoism, individualism, division, and materialism take center stage—accompanied by rising levels of stress, corruption, violence, and crime. In short, the relentless march of modernity threatens to overshadow the very essence of our humanity (see The World Needs a New Philosophy).

The enduring popularity of tango today is a striking phenomenon, reflecting a deep, collective yearning for a society rooted in equality, fairness, cooperation, order, and harmony—much like a well-run milonga. This stands in stark contrast to the modern world, where self-interest, rivalry, hostility, stress, chaos, inequality, and division prevail. Those who place unwavering faith in modernization must confront a more sobering reality. As one blogger aptly observed, “The world is like water, and humans are like ink. What humans do to the world is like what ink does to water; over time, the ink only makes the water muddier, not clearer. Compared to our postmodern world, the past seems simpler, purer, and better.”

Another poignant reflection comes from a woman who wrote, “In modern life, we center everything around work, which demands aggression. But if we bring that aggression into our marriages—constantly fighting for self-interest, forcing our partner to concede—what can such a marriage produce but unhappiness?” A similar sentiment was shared by a blogger who asked: “How many American businessmen lie in a hospital bed after a heart attack and finally ask themselves, ‘How did I end up living this way? Working too many hours… the love of my life is a stranger, if we haven’t already divorced… I missed my children growing up… I spent my life chasing financial security, not making memories with my friends… and now I end up here?’”

In many ways, modernization is a fatal attraction—one that leads us away from the very essence of being human. How did we lose our sanity? Why, as an intelligent species capable of inventing computers, the internet, and GPS, have we failed to create a world that truly makes sense?

I believe this universal reckoning—the contrast between modernity and humanity, the longing for a more balanced, meaningful life—is at the heart of tango’s revival today. A century ago, immigrants far from home created a dance infused with their dreams, a dance that celebrated human connection, fraternity, cooperation, unity, and beauty. Today’s tango dancers, I believe, are pursuing that same dream. And those of us fortunate enough to be part of this tradition carry a responsibility: to preserve tango as a sanctuary for the human spirit. We must not only teach others how to dance tango but also uphold the values it embodies. Without those values, tango risks being assimilated by the very world it was born to transcend (see Beauty Will Save the World).

The Conceptual Beauty of Tango

In the philosophy of tango, the unity of form and content holds profound significance. Tango is born out of a human need (see Why People Dance Tango). From this need arises beauty, which then leads to a deviation from this need and only pursue beauty, hence the alienation of tango. Admiration for beauty is not without merit—after all, without it, there would be no art. But in creating art, we must not lose sight of its purpose. Art is not merely form; without substance, it loses its meaning. A watch that looks elegant but fails to keep time is not a good watch. A selfish woman, though physically attractive, does not make a good partner. Tango is no different: you may invent dazzling steps, but without the essence of tango, it is not good tango.

Novice dancers often judge tango by its appearance, just as naive minds judge success by material wealth. Warren Buffett once said, “The truth is, when you get to my age, you will measure your success by how many people really love you.” Money does not make one truly rich—love does. We may envy someone’s fortune, but at the end of the day, we long for relationships grounded in genuine care. The same applies to tango. What makes it deeply fulfilling is not its steps but what the steps convey.

Marie Curie observed, “If you’re not pretty at 17, you can blame your parents. But if you are still not pretty at 30, you only have yourself to blame, for in all those years, you added nothing new to yourself.” True beauty comes from within. A tango dancer who only values look and ignores feeling is like a parvenus who lives in a mansion and drives luxury cars, but at heart he is still a poor man. What makes a person noble is not his money but character. Dancers obsessed with form and upstarts flaunting riches are kindred spirits. Art that endures—be it painting, music, or dance—is that with inherent depth of human spirit rather than just aestheticism.

As Mother Teresa poignantly said: “Hunger is not only for bread, but for love. Nakedness is not only for clothing, but for dignity. Homelessness is not only the need for a roof, but also the feeling of being unwanted.” Tango, at its core, feeds the soul. Its beauty lies not just in its form, but more profoundly, in its spirit.

This inner beauty is invisible. It exists in emotions, thoughts, relationships, character, and imagination. In the eyes of a lover his beloved is a beauty. What seems attractive may become plain over time, and what seems plain can become deeply beautiful. Some people are attractive because of their intelligence, others because of their charisma. Certain beauty can only be appreciated by the heart and not the eyes, such as poem, music, love and friendship. A tango can stir up different emotions because what people hear may not be the song itself, but their own feelings. The world appears radiant when the heart is joyful, and somber when it is heavy. The past is more splendid in memory than it was in reality, and so is the future in the vision. All this reveals that beauty is not merely form—it is also a subjective experience.

The highest beauty is conceptual. It transcends the visual boundaries and invites the mind to wander through the realm of imagination. Tango is not primarily a visual art—it is an art of consciousness and feeling. In tango, you can close your eyes and let your intuition guide you. You do not watch your partner dance; you feel their embrace, their touch, their movement—and through these, their temperament, personality, and emotion. His masculinity, strength, dependability, protection, thoughtfulness, and finesse; her femininity, softness, affection, agreement, and subtle seduction—these are all conveyed through feeling. Even musicality and the quality of the dance are experienced through sensation. Tango leaves abundant space for imagination. Dancing it is like attending a feast of emotions. Its beauty is largely conceptual rather than visual (see Tango Is a Feeling).

It is unfortunate that many formalist dancers focus solely on what can be seen, ignoring what can only be felt. What sets tango apart is its conceptual beauty. This is where its deepest potential lies. To explore and cultivate this inner richness is a worthy aspiration, one that can make tango an even greater emotional feast. Although it is natural for beginners to focus on the external, as comprehension proceeds from the outside to the inside and from the shallow to the deep, my hope is that this journey can be shortened. So that, when you reach the age of Warren Buffett, Marie Curie, or Mother Teresa, you won’t regret for what you have missed out in your pursuit of vanity. Isn't that often the case beyond tango (see The Psychology in Tango)?