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.