Reflections on My New Tango Home

Since moving to this city, I’ve been dancing at this particular milonga for about two years. The dance floor is a rectangular space, approximately 45 feet long and 30 feet wide. Typically, around 40 to 50 people gather here—mostly seasoned tango dancers in their 50s, 60s, and 70s, with a few younger or less experienced participants. The gender ratio hovers around 27 men to 23 women, which puts men at a slight disadvantage. Interestingly, a couple of women prefer to lead, and most men avoid dancing with these female leaders, further exacerbating the shortage of followers.

Most of the women are familiar with the cabeceo, although a few are not—and these ladies tend to receive fewer invitations (see Women’s Role in Cabeceo). Apart from a handful, most people dance in a traditional close embrace, and dancers with different styles rarely partner up. Overall, this milonga has an above-average dance level, which I really appreciate. However, the sense of community could be warmer. In America, this isn’t unusual—people come here to dance, not necessarily to form deep connections. By contrast, in Buenos Aires, a group of people who dance together regularly will quickly develop close bonds.

I dance regularly with most of the women here, though there are a few I haven’t danced with—not because I don’t want to, but because they haven’t shown any interest. My rule is simple: I only dance with women who are friendly and open to dancing with me. If someone acts dismissive, I don’t ask them to dance. I’m not entirely sure why some women seem aloof. Do they have particular standards? Do they only dance with fixed partners? Do they think that invitations are only men’s business? I try not to assume the worst because I believe most people are kind at heart. One possible explanation is that they are socially inexperienced or lack cabeceo skills. Regardless, I have my principles, and since I’m not short on partners, I haven’t danced with them yet (see Tango Etiquette: Eye Contact, Talking, Clique and Hierarchy).

The tango community in this city is sizable, and this milonga—with its experienced dancers—frequently attracts visitors. However, these visitors rarely return, perhaps due to the lack of a warm and welcoming atmosphere I mentioned earlier. I’ve visited a few other local milongas as well, but the pattern is similar—dancers tend to avoid engaging with newcomers, so I didn’t stay either. It’s a common issue, and I believe there is room for improvement. Some possible solutions might include encouraging people to greet each other before the dance begins, providing cabeceo education, prompting everyone to dance at least once with someone new, or requiring dancers to rotate partners during the first tanda after the break. These small changes could help break the ice and foster a more inviting environment (see Tango Is a Fellowship).

To me, a great milonga rests on three essentials: a friendly atmosphere, skilled dancers, and good music. There are several DJs play here, most of them stick to classic tango hits from the Golden Age. While a few have unique tastes that don’t always align with mine, most DJs strike a good balance in their selections. Overall, I’m satisfied with the music here, though I think the selection quality could still improve to make this milonga even better. It’s not about novelty—it’s about choosing tracks that are great for dancing. The more classic and familiar the music, the better—this is akin to playing musical instruments, where well-loved pieces often resonate best with both players and listeners. I don’t understand why Pugliese is rarely played here. Given the experience level of the dancers here, including more Pugliese could be a thoughtful—and welcome—touch (see My Two Cents on Music Selection).

Tango and Trust

Trust is the foundation of human social life—the invisible thread that binds us to one another. It arises from our shared limitations, vulnerabilities, and deep need for connection. As social beings, we instinctively seek trust-based relationships to foster cooperation, teamwork, and mutual support. This interdependence helps us meet both practical needs—such as working together for survival and success—and emotional needs, including overcoming loneliness, forming bonds, and feeling secure. Without trust, we face life’s challenges in isolation, disconnected and unsupported.

Tango embodies this human interdependence. Its enduring popularity lies not only in its beauty but in its power to fulfill a fundamental longing. More than a form of art or recreation, tango is a language of connection, surrender, and emotional intimacy. It offers a refuge from loneliness, a space to embrace vulnerability, and a chance to find solace in another’s arms. In its close embrace, we soothe our craving for touch and affection, leaning on one another to lighten life’s burdens. Yet to fully experience these gifts, we must be willing to trust. Tango heals us by inviting authenticity and openness—transformations that only trust can unlock. Without it, we cannot give ourselves freely, nor receive the profound emotional rewards the dance can offer.

On a practical level, trust is just as essential. Tango relies on physical closeness, nonverbal communication, and continuous mutual support. Partners must remain attuned to each other, confident in their shared presence and dependability. This trust enables fluid, expressive movement. Without it, dancers become self-conscious and tense, holding back emotionally and hesitating to let go. For beginners especially, this lack of trust is a frequent stumbling block. Many struggle to dance well simply because they haven’t yet learned to trust.

This difficulty mirrors a broader cultural problem. In contemporary American society, trust has become fragile, weakened by systemic forces such as unchecked individualism, institutional failure, economic precarity, inequality, political polarization, media manipulation, and cybercrime. These pressures cultivate suspicion and cynicism. In a culture that prizes self-reliance and personal success above community and integrity, competition often eclipses cooperation. People become guarded—fearful of betrayal, exploitation, and disappointment. This mistrust seeps into our relationships, making it difficult to embrace the openness that tango requires. When we cannot trust, we disengage, choosing alienation and control over connection and cooperation.

Tango teaches a countercultural truth: trust is the gateway to genuine connection. In a world where trust is in short supply, tango reminds us that intimacy and camaraderie flourish only when we place our faith in others. On the dance floor, we rehearse the possibility of rebuilding trust in the world beyond. Confucius, who ranked trust among the five essential virtues—alongside benevolence, justice, propriety, and wisdom—understood its central role in a harmonious society. Rooted in these enduring values, tango becomes a living testament to our shared humanity. Within its embrace, we learn to lean on one another again. We discover the quiet joy of surrendering control in the right context. And in doing so, we find that our deepest fulfillment often comes not from struggling alone, but from trusting each other and moving together as one.