Learning Tango: Two Perspectives

Certain behaviors are common among tango beginners: (1) They are eager to learn steps but often overlook foundational skills. (2) They mimic movements without paying attention to technical details. (3) They focus mainly on themselves rather than on connecting with their partner. (4) They lean back to avoid close physical contact. (5) They lead or follow primarily with their arms and hands. (6) They hold on to their partner to assist in their movement. (7) They fail to truly listen to and follow the music (see Imitating Steps vs. Developing Skills).

All of these tendencies stem from a single misconception: beginners often see tango solely as a sequence of steps. For them, learning tango equates to memorizing and reproducing these steps, with the assumption that performing them means they have mastered the dance. This step-centric perspective causes them to overlook many other essential elements of tango.

It is crucial to understand that in tango, we do not dance the steps; we dance the music and the emotions it inspires. Tango is about expressing feelings through movement. Steps are simply the tools we use to interpret the music and convey emotion. Among all the elements that define tango, music and the feelings it evokes are paramount. Without these, tango becomes little more than a set of acrobatic exercises (see Tango Is a Feeling).

While steps are essential, knowing them alone does not enable one to dance musically and harmoniously with a partner. Tango is a collaborative act; the woman’s role is not to execute her steps independently but to respond to the lead. When she focuses solely on performing the steps, it disrupts the connection and undermines tango as a cohesive whole, which is born from collaboration. This is why dancing with a beginner often feels disconnected.

The man’s lead is guided by the music. When the music is sharp, his lead is sharp; when the music softens, so does his lead. The same step can—and should—be danced differently according to the mood of the music. Instead of concentrating on her own execution, the woman should focus on sensing the lead and expressing the music through her movements.

Each lead communicates something specific. For example, when the man's right chest pushes while his left chest pulls, it signals the woman to swivel her hips to his right. Conversely, if his left chest pushes and the right pulls, it asks her to swivel left. Often, these signals are so subtle that they can only be felt, not seen. Tango is a sophisticated form of body language. Learning tango is less about mastering steps and more about understanding this body language—learning to sense, respond, communicate, and merge with your partner through your body (see Tango Is a Language (I)).

This feeling-centric perspective shifts the dancer’s focus from steps to the body, embrace, connection, communication, music, and the emotions it stirs. It is about using your body to sense, share your feelings with your partner, express and exchange emotions through direct physical interaction, and move in harmony with your partner's body. Ultimately, it’s about bringing pleasure to your partner through your movements.

Tango is not just any dance—it is an intimate physical and emotional dialogue between two people. Rather than merely imitating steps, let your goal be to make dancing with you a joy for your partner. Let this be the true focus of your learning and practice.

The transformation from a step-oriented, self-centered beginner to a feeling-oriented, partner-centered, multitasking team player is a lengthy process. Beginners cannot fully grasp the essence of tango until they have acquired sufficient understanding, skills, and experience. However, adopting the right perspective from the very beginning can set you on the correct path—and significantly shorten your journey toward becoming a proficient tango dancer (see The Four Stages of the Tango Journey).

From Steps to Feelings

How Tango Is Danced in Buenos Aires

Many Europeans and Americans dance tango differently than Argentines. For years, I sought a video that authentically captures how tango is danced in Argentina, aiming to change people's perceptions. However, I found it challenging to locate one. Most tango videos are produced by those focusing on their own interpretations of the dance. The few that portray authentic Argentine tango are often poorly crafted or marred by distractions. The overwhelming presence of foreigners makes it difficult to film a truly porteño milonga. Recently, I discovered a video by Paul Holman that, in my view, beautifully represents an indigenous milonga.

I appreciate this video not only for its clarity, lighting, and cinematography but also for the producer's insightful perspective. Holman understood that tango is about intimacy, connection, and surrender. He recognized that steps and footwork are secondary, that milonga codes are essential, and that capturing the essence of tango means avoiding distractions. His work allows viewers to sense the atmosphere of a truly exceptional milonga. I've been watching this video a lot lately—just to absorb that soulful scene and remind myself of how one should dance and behave in a milonga.

How Tango Is Danced in Europe and North America

In contrast, tango in Europe and North America often reflects a very different perception. Here's an example from a local milonga.

Dancers often approach tango not to relish the music and share a connection but rather to practice their steps. While many understand that tango is an intimate dance and come hoping to experience that connection, many opt for an open or semi-open hold, distancing themselves from one another and focusing solely on the steps instead of engaging with their partners.

To be fair, this situation is not the worst. You can tell it’s a developing tango community, with some dancers already demonstrating promising skills. However, most remain beginners who haven’t yet mastered the embrace and rely heavily on their arms and hands to lead and follow. Many are rehearsing what they’ve just learned, resulting in emotional detachment, and only a few truly dance to the music. The lack of adherence to milonga codes is apparent—such as verbal invitations, wearing ornaments that rub against their partners, blocking traffic, remaining on the floor during the cortina, and talking loudly over the music. While the music is traditional, it isn’t particularly engaging. Overall, the event feels disorganized. Despite a few moments of better dancing, the milonga as a whole lacks both appeal and satisfaction. Sadly, this is typical of most tango scenes in Europe and North America today.

Another Common Euro-American Tango Scene

Among young people, another type of tango scene is prevalent.

Young dancers often feel compelled to expend energy and express their uniqueness through unconventional approaches. By using an open hold instead of the embrace, they can perform flashy steps. Some have become quite skilled at this style, yet it resembles competitive or athletic dance forms more than social tango. Personally, I struggle to see how this way of dancing tango can provide the same enjoyment as the feeling-oriented milonguero style. I wish there were better reasons why some people insist on this approach when there is clearly a better alternative, aside from a desire to show off, have obstacles, or don't know better. As far as comfort, soulfulness, indulgence, and gratification are concerned, there is truly no comparison.

It’s natural for young people to question traditions. However, when this questioning turns into a rejection of wisdom simply for the sake of being different, it can seem naïve. Older dancers were once young and rebellious too. In fact, many seasoned milongueros can perform Nuevo-style steps better than today’s youth. They stopped because, over time, they gained a deeper understanding—one that many young dancers, with their limited experience, have yet to attain. Most young people learn tango from their peers, who in turn learned from theirs; they simply don’t know another way to dance tango. Once exposed to the milonguero approach, most will abandon their previous style and follow suit.

This Is How Milongueros Emerge

After more than thirty years of trial and error since 1983, some dancers in Europe and North America have begun to move away from exhibitionism, shifting their focus toward the embrace, music, and feelings. As a result, scenes like the following have started to emerge.

Here, the embrace and connection become closer and more intimate. The movements are more feeling-oriented. The steps are simpler, more musical, and more elegant. The milonga is better organized, and antisocial behaviors are less common. Although showy footwork still appears, the embrace still breaks at times, hand use remains habitual for some, music choices are still more dramatic than sentimental, and hastiness still prevails, progress is evident. Such transformations certainly could not occur without struggle, given the strong Western traditions of liberalism, individualism, feminism, and the legacy of the hippie movement. Yet, the dancers in this video demonstrate that change is possible, offering reassurance that there is still hope in tango, in humanity, and in our capacity to adapt.

How Social Tango Should Be Danced

I encourage you to watch Holman’s video again, this time with fresh eyes. The following is an edited version. Pay attention to how the milongueros and milongueras adhere to milonga codes—from seating and making eye contact to using the cabeceo, dancing, and ultimately escorting the woman back to her seat. If you’re curious about the steps they use to maintain such harmony, observe those dancing in the background. But nothing too fancy, really. Their tango is not about the steps.

Their focus is entirely on the music and the feeling—so much so that the steps seem almost irrelevant. For them, dancing tango is about enjoying emotion and intimacy, rather than performing tricks. They dance with complete relaxation, an unhurried pace, subtle movements, and tasteful suspensions. Their steps are simple, unpretentious, and serve only to maintain their unity with their partner. The beauty of their tango lies in the connection and synchronization, not in individual performance. Even their music selections are more sentimental and intriguing than what we often encounter, perfectly matching the tone of their dance.

Watch the woman especially. Her ability to stay attuned to her partner is extraordinary. She leans into him comfortably, her chest gently pressed against his, her arm resting around his shoulder. Her eyes are closed in bliss, fully immersed in the sensations stirred by the music and the whispers of her partner’s body. Her discreet footwork seamlessly keeps her body in harmony with his movements, no matter how he turns.

To tango is to indulge yourself, not to impress others. On a crowded dance floor, who cares about your footwork anyway? What truly matters is the feeling you experience. This is why performance tango doesn’t make sense in the milonga. I hope Holman’s video inspires more American dancers to embrace the milonguero style of tango and accelerates the transformation of our tango from a step-oriented dance to a feeling-oriented one.

P.S.

I've received several comments about my choice of videos and now better understand why political correctness has become a necessity today. Please note: these videos are intended only to illustrate a broader phenomenon. They are neither intended to represent nor capable of capturing the full picture of any community or event.

Tango Is a Fellowship

Many novices 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 connection between partners, treating fellow dancers as rivals, and prioritizing personal display over 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 (see A Dance That Challenges Modern Ideologies).

Liberalism, with its emphasis on individuality, independence, and personal liberty, often undervalues relationships and collective engagement. Tango, by contrast, is rooted in partnership, teamwork, and cooperation. Its essence lies not in showcasing personal skills but in shared connection, collaboration, and harmony—not just with a single partner but also with the broader community. More than anything, tango is a fellowship. To truly enjoy the dance, one must be part of a community—without which, even the most advanced technical skills remain hollow. (See The Goal of Tango: The Pursuit of Oneness.)

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 tango from a rich communal practice into a spectacle. Yet technique alone cannot nourish the soul. While mechanical refinement may bring momentary satisfaction, most dancers eventually seek something deeper, something that transcends individual prowess and taps into the spirit of connection (see The Four Stages of the Tango Journey).

Since its revival in 1983, tango has flourished in the U.S., with many 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, dancers must look beyond individualism and embrace 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 stewards of tango, we carry the responsibility of nurturing its spirit of collectivism. Only through shared efforts can our tango truly reflect the depth, authenticity, and fellowship of its Argentine origins (see 惜缘 – Cherishing the Connection of Fate).

The Psychology in Tango

One

The attraction between the sexes can ignite such enthusiasm 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 with tango. As long as we avoid interpreting sexuality in a crude or reductive way, its connection with romanticism, passion, imagination, creativity, and artistry becomes easier to understand.

After all, aren’t most human pursuits ultimately rooted in the instinct to survive and reproduce? Love, marriage, family, education, ambition, competition, inequality, deception, crime—even war—can all be traced back to that root. Sexuality has given rise to both great beauty and deep suffering. When misunderstood in vulgar terms, it has led to the rejection and distortion of tango. Yet the modern resurgence of tango reflects a more mature and 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 the human nature behind 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, to be human is to be an immigrant—forever seeking belonging, love, and a place to call home from the moment we enter the world.

And so, tango, regarded as a refuge or 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 tastes better than all the others.” But children don’t believe them. They’re drawn to what looks more colorful and tempting. Only after trying everything do they realize their parents were right. They pass this wisdom on to their own children, but those children, too, don’t believe and are still enticed by what seems 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 own 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, but remember—tango is not just a visual spectacle; it is a feeling lived through movement (see Tango Is a Feeling).

Six

Feelings have gender. Men and women seek different qualities in tango. Strength is deeply ingrained in the male essence, drawing men toward women in search of comfort. Softness is woven into the female nature, attracting women to men as they seek a sense of security. Men and women are created to complement, balance, and complete one another. This is the law of nature.

Women, you need to make him feel comfortable so that he may see where you are 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 spark 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, got into the light, turned off the bed—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 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, more effective communication, 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 the 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 to form a V-shape, 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 hold tend to develop poor habits, such as using arms and hands to lead and follow, grabing their partner 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 Connection between Partners

Tango cannot flourish between two beginners. When dancers focus only on steps and their individual performance, they move like two people arguing—physically distant, emotionally detached, and unable to find common ground. Experienced dancers, by contrast, move as a single organism. They surrender to the music, allowing it to stir shared emotions and forge a deep, unspoken bond. In that state, they dance in perfect unison, communicating with the ease and intuition of soulmates. This harmony is what makes tango so intoxicating.

Tango comes alive only when dancers immerse themselves fully in the experience: the music, the emotion, the sensation, and above all, the connection. A good partner is someone with whom you feel a spark—a natural chemistry that cannot be faked. Beginners often fixate on superficial elements: steps, styling, technique. Yet what truly shapes the dance are the inner qualities each person brings: his musicality, strength, leadership, protection, thoughtfulness, and finesse; her lightness, flexibility, receptivity, adaptability, and coordination. Above all, it is the connection between them that defines the dance. Those who chase appearances miss the essence of tango—just as those who overlook the soul miss the essence of love.

Tango and love are often compared because both seek the same fundamental goal: connection. Each depends on two individuals embracing distinct yet complementary roles, working toward unity through mutual commitment, empathy, cooperation, and accommodation. As one reader insightfully noted in response to my post on gender roles in tango, “These ideas apply to real-life relationships too.” Indeed, the principles of tango extend far beyond the dance floor, offering profound lessons on how to build and sustain harmony—whether in romance, friendship, or community.

Beginners must learn to move beyond self-focus and cultivate genuine connection. Instead of obsessing over their own artistry, they should aim to merge with their partner. Excessive attention to steps often leads to disconnection, blame, or attempts to control. But when unity becomes the priority, dancers begin to cooperate, adapt, and yield in ways that make their partner feel at home—allowing the two to truly become one in the dance.

Tango is much like a marriage: it thrives not through domination, but through cooperation and adaptation. Novice women often feel comfortable dancing with a seasoned milonguero not because they themselves are good, but because he knows how to accommodate them. Surrendering, adapting, and seeking unity matter far more than executing perfect steps. In the end, tango—like any meaningful relationship—lives or dies by the quality of connection. (See Tango Is a Relationship.)

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 emotion, understanding, relationships, values, 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)?

The Four Stages of the Tango Journey

If tango to you is merely what the eyes can see—the steps—then you are at the earliest stage of your tango journey. At this stage, the intangible dimensions of tango remain elusive. However, steps are only the tip of the iceberg. Tango is a rich, multifaceted art form. While learning steps is necessary, there are things more essential. At this stage, you should focus on developing foundational skills: correct embrace, good posture, strong connection, balance, stability, dissociation, pivoting, the ability to use the torso to lead or follow, and a grounded, elegant walk. You should use the opportunity of learning steps to hone these essential skills. Many students attempt to learn advanced steps or embellishments when their posture is still awkward, their body is still stiff and heavy, their embrace is still broken, their walk is still clumsy, they still can't lead or follow through the torso, and they still need to hold on to the partner for balance and stability. Consequently, any advanced movements they learn are superficial and only reinforce poor habits. At this stage, it is vital to resist the temptation for quick results. Instead, adopt a structured and gradual approach, dedicating time to mastering essential skills and building a strong foundation. This approach may feel slow at first, but it lays the groundwork for faster progress in the long run. (See Tango Is a Language (I).))

Once you’ve moved beyond the introduction phase and begun dancing socially, you enter the second stage of your tango journey. At this stage, you continue to learn steps, but your main focus should now shift to correcting bad habits. If your personal practices do not align with tango standards, or if you picked up poor habits during the first stage, now is the time to address them. This stage can be lengthy and demanding because habits formed over a long time are not easily changed. It requires patience and persistent work. You need a competent teacher to guide you and help you correct issues step by step. Practicing in front of a mirror or reviewing video recordings of your dancing can help you evaluate your posture, embrace, connection, movement, and coordination. You must make constant, conscious efforts to overcome your old habits until you have ingrained the correct way of dancing tango and internalized the proper posture, embrace, connection, movements, and techniques that adhere to the aesthetic standards of tango.

As your dance begins to reflect the distinctive tango aesthetic, you enter the third stage of your tango journey. At this stage, your attention starts to shift from the external to the internal. Once steps are no longer an obstacle, you can focus on the intangible aspects of the dance. At this level, musicality becomes central. You must deepen your understanding of tango music—its many genres, tempos, rhythms, moods, and orchestras—and learn to interpret and dance to each piece uniquely. You need to improve your ability to express the music with your movement—using pauses, slow motion, embellishments, and advanced techniques that prioritize not only the visual appeal but also the feeling of the dance, such as cadencia, the gear effect and the cradle effect. Additionally, you need to work on improving flexibility, coordination, and body awareness, refining your connection and communication with your partner, and enhancing your ability to influence the movement of your partner with your body. You also need to go beyond the technical aspects and become a socially adept dancer. This involves learning the philosophy, culture and etiquette of tango. As your skills and experiences expand, so will your perspectives, and you will begin to see beyond yourself.

The ability to see beyond yourself marks the most significant transformation, signaling your entry into the final stage of the tango journey. At this stage, you begin to pay attention to your partner, to feel their emotions and feelings, to interprete their musical expression, to adapt and accommodate their dance, and to be one with them. You no longer dance to showcase your skills, but to provide comfort, joy, and contentment to your partner. Tango is no longer just steps; it becomes an expression of love. Your lead becomes less difficult and forceful, but gentle, responsive, and attuned to the ability of your partner. You want her to feel free, pampered, and delighted in dancing with you. Your follow becomes less bumpy and counteractive, but fitting, smooth, light and in harmony with your leader. You want him to feel confident, comfortable, and enjoy your presence. You start to understand the essence of tango and see tango as what the milongueros see it. Now, you are at the top of the game.

Tango Is a Feeling

Steps are often described as tango’s “vocabulary”—the tools through which music and emotion find expression. Yet tango is never about the steps alone; it is about what those steps reveal. As someone once said, “Tango is a feeling that is danced.”

Defining a feeling is no small task. Feelings span a vast spectrum—sentiments, emotions, moods, reveries, euphoria, sorrow, excitement, and even the mysterious duende. Tango evokes a singular state of mind, one in which we feel vividly alive: exuberant, creative, articulate, expressive, fulfilled. But this state is fleeting and unpredictable. It may arise unbidden—or remain absent, even when we long for it. Still, anyone who has truly felt it knows its power. For many, that feeling is what makes tango so profoundly addictive (see The Psychology in Tango).

This experience is deeply connected to music. High-quality tango music resonates with us, awakens imagination, unlocks expression, and fuels creativity on the dance floor. The most compelling music—marked by clear rhythms, evocative melodies, and emotional depth—does more than organize movement. It connects souls, stirs emotions, shapes sentiments, and lifts us into that rare, transformative state of mind. We dance not to demonstrate steps, but to share the music and the emotions it inspires. When recalling a memorable milonga, we rarely remember the sequence of movements; instead, we remember the connection, the feeling, and the emotional imprint left by the music.

Yet music alone is not enough. The embrace is equally essential—perhaps even more so. Tango’s essence lives in the embrace (see The Fourteenth Pitfall of a Tanguera). Contrary to what beginners may believe, the embrace is far more than a hold or a frame. It is the connection that unites us, the communication that links our hearts, the touch that sparks chemistry, the intimacy that soothes the soul. The tango embrace fulfills a profound human need: for connection, belonging, and completeness. It evokes something primal—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 in isolation but in togetherness. In its purest form, tango is a longing for “home”—found in each other as we dance, becoming whole through the embrace—without it, tango loses its soul and becomes merely a sequence of movements.

If the embrace is vital, so is the partner within it. That transcendent feeling remains unreachable with someone who has not yet learned to truly embrace. A pedagogy centered solely on steps often produces such dancers—those who avoid closeness, lean away to create distance, cling mechanically, or remain emotionally absent. Such dancers miss the very heart of tango (see The Connection between Partners). Dancing tango is like cradling a baby in your arms, singing a lullaby as you gently rock her to sleep, or resting in a parent’s embrace, lulled by a tender hymn into a dream. Tango is warmth. It is safety. It is shared. Its music, its embrace, its connection, and its rhythmic movement weave a hypnotic spell, transporting us to a place so blissful we hesitate to return when the tanda ends (see The Cradle Effect). Yes, steps are necessary—but only as servants of the embrace, allowing us to move together as one.

In this light, tango mirrors real relationships—rich with challenges yet sustained by trust, unity, love, and mutual support. Beyond choreographed movements, tango becomes a spiritual connection, an emotional resonance, a dialogue between two souls. It calls for surrender, devotion, openness, and the courage to remain connected. Seen from this perspective, tango reveals an entirely different dance—romantic, intimate, comforting, dreamy, soulful, and profoundly fulfilling.

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.

Tango and Romanticism

Romanticism emerged in the late 18th century as a cultural and artistic movement that championed the human spirit. It celebrated emotion, imagination, heroism, and idealism in response to the dehumanizing effects of industrialization, which prioritized efficiency and mechanization over the richness of human experience. At its core, Romanticism sought to restore the beauty of feeling, the depth of emotional expression, and the fullness of the human spirit—an influence that continues to resonate across literature, art, and culture.

In our postmodern age—marked by technology, superficiality, and relentless speed—the ideals of Romanticism feel more vital than ever. Nowhere is this more apparent than in tango—a dance born of longing, emotion, and profound human connection. Tango was never merely a form of entertainment. It emerged as an expressive language for the yearnings, dreams, and desires that define the human experience, embodying the essence of Romanticism (see Tango Is the Search for a Dream).

Yet today, critics often note that tango has increasingly become a spectacle—dominated by gymnastic feats and flashy choreography that, while physically impressive, miss the emotional heart of the dance. These displays often prioritize appearance over meaning, movement over feeling, and applause over connection. True tango is not about dazzling tricks; it is about the invisible thread that binds two people in connection and intimacy. It evokes the drama of a romance—two partners navigating uncertainty together, grounded in trust, mutual support, and emotional presence. At its best, tango is a dance of shared feeling—a Romantic art form that stands in stark contrast to athletic display. Rather than reaching outward for applause, tango turns inward, drawing from the well of human spirit, compassion, and resonance (see The Conceptual Beauty of Tango).

When stripped of these deeper qualities, tango risks becoming just another sport or show—technically adept, but emotionally hollow. In a culture increasingly shaped by games over classics, sport over art, and technology over humanity, there is a real danger that tango may lose its essence. Many raised in such an environment are drawn to novelty, speed, and change, often at the expense of substance and timeless beauty.

To preserve tango’s classic elegance and soulfulness, we must rekindle the Romantic spirit—in both teaching and practice. This means embracing simplicity and naturalness, valuing grace over extravagance, and allowing genuine emotion to guide the dance. While trends may rise and fall, Romanticism offers a timeless expression of our shared humanity. It endures, quietly awaiting rediscovery. And when reawakened through tango, it elevates the dance into a profound and poetic celebration of what makes us human—connection and spirit, one that continues to resonate across generations (see Embracing Elegance).

Tango Is a Relationship

We all live in relationship with others. This simple truth compels us to reflect on coexistence and mutual respect—why Confucius believed that human nature is inherently good. To harm others is to harm oneself; to show kindness benefits everyone. Only philosophies steeped in egoism insist that human nature is inherently evil.

Tango, too, is a relationship. It invites another into your personal space—into physical connection, mutual surrender, and shared attunement. Your partner feels your presence, joins you in a give-and-take of responsiveness, and experiences your willingness to cooperate and accommodate.

In this silent dialogue, tango opens a passage to your inner world, allowing your partner to sense what words often conceal. Indeed, much can be learned about a person by dancing with them. The way you connect, move, communicate, respond, and adapt reveals your physical awareness, psychological disposition, ethical stance, aesthetic sensibility, and emotional intelligence. Your dance becomes a mirror of who you are—warm or distant, shy or open, expressive or restrained, accommodating or assertive, spontaneous or rigid, musical or tone-deaf, serene or restless, refined or unpolished. In tango, nothing is hidden.

Like any meaningful relationship—where the well‑being of one is bound to that of the other—tango calls on you to show your best self in order to bring out the best in your partner. In tango, as in life, the greatest obstacle is the ego. Ego breeds self‑centeredness, arrogance, control, rigidity, irritability, resistance, and rudeness. It is your ego that prevents you from enjoying the satisfaction that can only be obtained through surrender.

True tango arises only when two people move as one, in complete agreement and harmony. This unity requires letting go of ego, surrendering to your partner, tuning into their rhythm, and synchronizing your movements with theirs. You must adapt—complementing their strengths, compensating for their weaknesses, and creating a space where they feel safe, comfortable, and fulfilled. (See The Essence of Harmony in Tango.)

If you dance only for yourself and neglect your partner, the connection dissolves—no matter how dazzling your steps.

Tango is not merely a dance; it is a social and relational act. Learning tango means far more than mastering steps. It means cultivating sensibilities, adopting new values, and seeing the world through a different lens. Above all, it means learning to be one with another person.

Sadly, this perspective is often forgotten. Too many dancers become entangled in their own egos and lose sight of what truly matters. Don’t fall into that trap. Tango isn’t about display—it’s about connection. (See Fulfillment Through Surrender.)

The Alienation of Tango

Tango faces profound challenges in the liberal West. In a way, it has become a self-inflicted dance. Its steps do not have fixed configurations, and its music invites interpretation, granting dancers the freedom to improvise and create. Yet this untrammeled nature has led to sweeping transformations—especially now, as free-spirited foreigners pour in, bring with them a flood of exotic influences.

As with anything, there are always those who take it to the extreme—and tango is no exception. While we naturally crave freedom, unbridled freedom often turns against itself. Our ancestors understood this paradox, which is why they established checks and balances and the rule of law. Tango, outside of Argentina, however, remains uncharted territory—a wild frontier where dancers do as they please. Some have replaced the tango embrace with open holds, swapped classic tango music for alternative tracks, redefined gender roles, and introduced elements foreign to tango such as underarm turns, high kicks, and body lifts. Now you visit milongas in the U.S., you often hear exotic music and see dancers of all stripes moving in unrecognizable ways. It is still called tango, but the essence of the dance has been altered. There is little resemblance to the tango danced in Buenos Aires’ milongas.

Tango is a free dance, but it is not a “do-whatever-you-want” dance. It has distinct characteristics. For example, it is a close-embrace dance. Breaking that connection and distancing partners is not tango (see The Fourteenth Pitfall of a Tanguera). Tango is an intimate, emotional, and soulful dance. In fact, tango is more about feelings than steps. No matter how many new steps people try to create, without feelings it is not tango (see Tango Is a Feeling). Tango is a heterosexual dance danced by a man and a woman, allowing his masculinity and her femininity to glitter in each other's company (see Tango and Gender Interdependence). The man is the leader who plots the dance and shines the woman. The woman is the follower who surrenders to the man, synchronizes her movements with his and beautifies the dance. Refusing to surrender, reversing roles, or forming same-sex partnership undermines the very foundation of tango (see The Gender Roles in Tango). Tango is danced to the sentimental music specifically created for the dance. Foreigners often don't realize that the magic of tango lies in its music, which connects the dancers, stirs up their nostalgic feelings, resonates with them, inspires their creativity, and enables them to fully showcase their beauty. Changing tango music to outlandish tunes, the dance ceases to be tango (see The Signature of Tango).

No one can stop the evolution of a dance that embraces free expression. Time alone will reveal which changes endure. Tango has undergone this trial for 150 years. Whatever innovations people attempt today have likely been tried by others before—and most did not survive. The current form of tango—including its music, embrace, steps, and protocols as practiced in Buenos Aires—is the survivors of fitness among zillions of attempts to alter the dance along its history. Tango will continue to evolve, of course, but it will evolve in the same direction that made it tango. Any attempt to remake tango into a different or hybrid form is doomed to fail. If not so, tango would have stopped being the tango danced in Buenos Aires today long ago.

Close Embrace and Open Embrace (III)

The experience of dancing close embrace tango is profoundly different from that of dancing open embrace. The enchanting music, the comforting embrace, and the rhythmic movement of two intimately connected bodies create a hypnotic effect—so blissful and immersive that dancers often don’t want to wake up when the tanda ends. (see The Cradle Effect).

In this embrace, the man feels his female partner’s soft, supple, sensitive, and responsive body. She nestles into him, surrendering herself completely—becoming a part of him. As they move together, her body twists in his arms; her muscles relax and tense, her gliding chest brushes his torso, and her contoured form adapts fluidly and gracefully to his shifting position. This interplay generates an exquisite sensation. He feels a real, living, breathing woman—the beauty of her body and femininity thrilling him. He enjoys dancing with her because only she, as a woman, can awaken in him the feelings that affirm his masculinity—strong, needed, in control, dependable, protective. Just as only he can stir within her the sensations she enjoys as a woman. His masculinity—his strength, support, care, and protection—makes her feel safe, cherished, pampered, and beautiful. In his embrace, she reconnects with her womanhood. Only in that moment can she truly luxuriate in the joy of being a woman—something real life so often compels her to suppress in the name of independence (see Tango and Gender Interdependence).

Tango is often called a refuge—and that is most deeply felt when danced between opposite sexes. When danced by same-sex partners, something essential is missing. The mystery, the magic, the polarity of masculine and feminine energies that make tango what it is—disappear. To me, that’s not tango. I know some will disagree. But, that’s me. I like women and enjoy a dance that contains the beauty of both masculinity and femininity.

But that's not all. If close embrace tango is physical and sensual, it is also poetic, soulful, and romantic. No one has expressed this more beautifully than Eugene Grigoryev in his essay What Is Tango? I share his words here in full, because I could not say it better myself—and no portrayal of close embrace tango is complete without his poetic rendering of its deeper, dreamlike essence:

“Tango is more than just a dance or a sequence of steps. It is an expression of our emotions, an inner reflection of who we are and what we experience, a way to channel what we feel through movement. Tango is a language of expressing what we feel through motion, stirred in us by music, in unison with our partner. It comes into your life in many different ways—as a simple interest, a hobby, or a fascination… and ever so slowly it becomes an addiction.

A simple look, a gesture, a smile, an eye contact, his invitation to lead, her acceptance to follow, all done without any need of verbal communication. As the music compels them, she comes close to him, they embrace… they feel each other breathe, they feel the passionate song unfold, it flows through their bodies, invigorating them, stirring emotions, which they both share… They can be strangers in real life, but as long as they are in this tango moment, they can be anyone they want… You don't have to know the person or even want to know them. Time ceases to exist during this moment. Both dancers are moving to the music, listening for it to tell them what to do… They slow down, pause, accelerate, suspend, all in the moment… almost as being possessed by the music. Outside of this moment is the real world, with its everyday problems, solutions, responsibilities, deadlines… but not here, not now… Now it is only tango, a refuge, a moment of surreal experience of desire, longing… words are not meant to describe it.

The social aspect of milonga is fascinating. It holds anticipation, surprise, heavenly music, moments of contact and separation. The challenge and satisfaction of rhythmically moving in unison with another person is what lures us to Tango. The experience is both physical and surreal. In three minutes of a song, you can experience a rollercoaster of emotions, but you will not experience them alone. For in those three minutes there will be a person embracing you, sharing what they are feeling with you… all without a single word being spoken… pure, raw emotions expressed through motion.”

Close Embrace and Open Embrace (II)

Close embrace tango and open embrace tango are, in essence, two different dances. Their philosophies, structures, techniques, and feelings are so distinct that people who have learned one dance are not able to dance the other without further training. I know this from personal experience. After three years of studying open embrace tango, my first attempt at close embrace left me completely lost. Everything—posture, connection, axis, balance, spatial awareness, movement, and the way of leading and following—must change. (See The Styles of Tango.)

In fact, open embrace tango shares more similarities with ballroom dancing than with Argentine tango. As in ballroom dancing, in open embrace tango the two dancers maintain a polite distance, with no physical contact except that of their arms and hands. Each dancer remains on their own axis independent of their partner, so they do not rely on one another for balance and support. In case they need such support they resort to using their arms and hands, causing heaviness and discomfort.

In theory, the man is supposed to lead with his torso, but since there is no torso contact, his lead is sent through his arms and hands, and the woman receives the lead through her extremities instead of through her chest. The feeling of dancing open embrace tango is exactly like dancing a ballroom dance. No intimacy between partners. No exchange of feelings through direct torso comminication. No comforting sensation of the two connected bodies moving together in sync to music. No physical surrender and emotional involvement. The fun of dancing open embrace tango mainly comes from a broader range of movement possibilities due to increased space between the partners. Each dancer focuses on their own performance. They do not enjoy the physical presence of the other person.

I enjoy dancing open embrace tango no more than I do ballroom dances. Yes, it is spectacular, intricate, dazzling, and showy, but that’s not what draws me to tango. The reason I love tango lies in its closeness, intimacy, physicality, comfort, soulfulness, sentimentality, and romanticism. In close embrace tango, the two partners lean into each other, chest to chest, cheek touching cheek. His arm encircles her body. Her breasts press against his chest and arm hooks around his shoulder. In this setting, they feel each other’s bodies, hear each other’s breath, inhale each other’s scent, and sense each other’s impulses. They rely on one another for balance and support, moving as a single, unified body.

Dancing in closed embrace, their movements are much more compact, with intense physical interaction and emotional exchange. The man leads the woman with his torso pressed against hers so there’s no need to use arms or hands. The woman receives his lead through her chest. She closes her eyes, surrenders to him, luxuriates in the caress of his body and enjoys his attentive guidance. It is a very comfortable position in which to be—and to dance. (See Close Embrace and Open Embrace (III).)

Close Embrace and Open Embrace (I)

I love everything about Argentine tango—its music, sentimentality, passion, beauty, and its artistic, sportive, social, and recreational dimensions. I'm captivated by its rich culture: the milonguero legends, the codes of the milonga, the cabeceo, and even its subtle touch of machismo. Yet none of these elements would hold the same meaning if tango were not danced between a man and a woman. As Susana Miller famously said, “If you like tango, then you like women.” The truth is, it’s the allure of women that draws men to tango—and vice versa. While this dynamic exists in all partner dances to some degree, tango is unique. It is far more intimate, physical, and personal (see Artistic Sublimation and Vulgarism in Tango).

A BBC commentator once observed, “Tango contains a secret about the yearning between men and women.” This yearning, however, is not necessarily sexual. I believe tango fulfills a fundamental human need: a desire for connection with the opposite sex in a nonsexual way (see Tango and Gender Interdependence). Our society is so preoccupied with sex that this innocent longing is often overlooked or repressed. Any physical closeness between men and women is assumed to be sexual, and as a result, it becomes either voluntarily restrained or culturally discouraged. Intimacy between men and women is generally acceptable only when it implies a sexual relationship. In other words, our culture struggles to accept innocent, nonsexual intimacy between the sexes.

Argentine tango, however, reflects a different cultural perspective—one that embraces and celebrates innocent intimacy. Tango is a product of that worldview (see Tango: Historical and Cultural Impacts). In this light, tango is more than just a dance; it becomes a refined way by which this innocent human desire can be met with stylized sophistication and beauty, shaped by protocols that preserve the dignity and elegance of the experience. This is why milonga codes play such a vital role. The influence of tango, I believe, is far more cultural than artistic. Tango is becoming a worldwide phenomenon for a reason: it responds to an essential human need—offering a stylized way to satisfy the innate longing for connection between opposites.

Yet, this aspect of tango remains unfamiliar to many Americans, as reflected in the way we approach the dance. In the U.S., tango is often treated as just another ballroom dance. We don't intimately engage with each other in the dance. Many still shy away from close embrace, opting instead for an open dance hold—a style rarely seen in Buenos Aires social tango scenes but prevalent in American tango. Cabeceo and milonga codes are rarely taught and practiced in most tango communities. The general culture in our tango is still more individualistic, independent, competitive, and even hostile than intimate, friendly, cooperative, and accommodating. Those who have danced in Buenos Aires understand the contrast. (See Close Embrace and Open Embrace (II).)