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 particularly high standards? Do they only dance with fixed partners? Do they think that invitations are only a man’s job? 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 relationships and societies. It arises from our inherent limitations, vulnerabilities, and interdependence. As social beings, we seek trust-based connections to foster cooperation, teamwork, and both emotional and physical support. These connections help us meet practical needs, such as collaborating for survival and success, as well as emotional needs, such as overcoming loneliness and feeling secure. Trust is the mechanism through which we navigate vulnerability, form bonds, offer mutual support, and maintain social harmony. Without it, we risk struggling alone, disconnected and unable to meet life’s challenges.

Tango, at its core, fulfills this essential human need, which is one reason for its enduring popularity. As a dance of love, connection, and surrender, tango is more than an aesthetic or recreational experience—it offers a sanctuary from loneliness, a safe space to express vulnerability, and an opportunity to find solace in another’s embrace. Through tango, we satisfy our longing for intimacy and touch, leaning on someone else to unburden ourselves, and quenching our thirst for connection and love. Fully engaging in this experience requires complete trust. Tango heals by granting us permission to reveal our vulnerability and inner selves—a transformation that can only occur through mutual trust. Without it, we cannot give ourselves completely, nor can we receive the profound emotional and psychological gifts the dance has to offer.

On a practical level, trust is just as vital. Tango relies on close physical contact, non-verbal cues, and mutual reinforcement. Dancers must be physically and mentally attuned to one another, trusting that their partner is always there for support. This trust sets us free. Without it, dancers may become self-conscious and tense, holding back emotionally and hesitating to let go. Unfortunately, the absence of trust remains a common challenge in our tango.

This difficulty reflects a broader cultural issue. In American society, trust has become increasingly fragile, eroded by systemic and social forces such as rampant individualism, institutional corruption, economic instability, rising inequality, fraud, cybercrime, political polarization, and media-driven misinformation. These pressures foster an atmosphere of suspicion and cynicism. In a culture that values self-reliance and personal achievement, people often prioritize their own needs over moral values and collective well-being. As a result, tension, competition, and mistrust have become commonplace. Faced with economic hardship, political division, and widespread deceit, individuals grow guarded, wary of manipulation and betrayal. This climate of distrust seeps into personal relationships, making it difficult to embrace the vulnerability that tango demands. When we do not trust, we disengage, choosing alienation and control over connection and cooperation.

Tango offers a profound lesson in the value of trust. In a world where trust is increasingly elusive, this intimate dance reminds us that human connection is possible only when we allow ourselves to trust one another. By embracing trust on the dance floor, we rehearse the possibility of restoring it in the wider world. Confucius named trust as one of the essential human virtues, alongside benevolence, justice, propriety, and wisdom. Rooted in trust, tango serves as a powerful reminder of these qualities and a means to rebuild faith in our shared humanity. Through this dance of vulnerability and connection, we relearn how to rely on one another. Tango reveals the joy that comes from surrendering control in the right context. It reminds us that not every moment requires us to be in charge. Often, our deepest fulfillment lies in letting go, trusting one another, and moving together in harmony.