It’s a common thing, in tango especially but also in the world, for women to give up their power. They say, “I’m not doing anything, I’m just supposed to respond and let the man do all the work.” Well, why on earth would he, then? Is it because you’re so wonderful that he will spend years training at this frustrating dance just so you can feel good for 7 1/2 minutes? What are you offering your partner that he would be willing to spend years learning a difficult craft?

He does all the work; and if they do dance well together, she gets the reward: she looks good, feels good, and the passive dancer has put next to no effort into it. If they don’t dance well together, he gets the blame: “he’s not a good leader, he doesn’t do what I want.” But of course, this is never said to his face. What a set-up. The women who “just follow, it all depends on what he’s doing” are generally terrible dancers because they expect the guy to hold up her weight, keep her on her balance point, keep time with the music, and generally haul her as around the floor; all this just to make her feel good. Yeah, normally when a guy has to do a lot of work to make a woman feel good, she either pays him a good deal of money or she marries him, and prostitution is often illegal.

The best dancers don’t let themselves be pushed around. They move, absolutely; but they move according to their own needs, to their own sense of the music, and they don’t make the leader haul them anywhere. It’s not work to dance with a good follow.

I’ve been looking recently at why it is that someone would want to dance with me. I think it’s a good exercise, to really think about what it is that you have to offer a dance partner. It helps boost confidence, yes, but also knowing what you have to offer makes you more in control of what you’re going to give.

If you aren’t offering anything, why the hell are you dancing?

Compare and contrast with this evening, at the Cellspace Alternative Milonga, which I had thought was a practica. Oops. I got directions to the wrong place, ended up at a different tango studio (La Pista) a mile away, and tried to figure out how to get to where I was going without having the correct address. The building owner heard me on the phone, and not knowing the story came to kick me out; I explained that I *had* come for the tango, just to the wrong place, and he was very kind. I met Nila who walked with me to Cellspace, but that was very crowded and the floor was just plywood, so it was sticky and harder to move on. I sat down where there was space to sit, and spent the next several tandas with that awful sinking feeling which happens when I realize I’m at a strange place where I don’t know anybody and I’m not going to find anyone to dance with. I hate dances like that, and I was already mildly annoyed at having gotten the wrong address. If I’d been able to make it on time, I would have attended the class before the milonga and met some people I could dance with later. I’ve found that generally, if I attend the classes I find people who really enjoy dancing with me, and it is much more comfortable asking for dances later in the evening. If I just show up somewhere, unknown and untested, nobody knows if I’m a fun dance partner or not.

It’s not that I have such a hard time asking people to dance because I’m afraid they’ll say no. A very important aspect of asking is that they get to say no; otherwise, it’s not asking, it’s a demand. Nope, it’s really just that I’m terrified to talk to strangers, to initiate a conversation without a good reason. I’m not confident enough that I can just go somewhere and pretend they’re all my friends; I’m not creepy enough to prey on beginners; and truthfully, I’d rather be following, and that’s a really hard thing to ask for in a community with such highly specific gender roles.

Teachers say again and again that it would be better for leaders if they spent their first 6 months or so as a follower, so that they could learn what the follower’s feet are doing before they have to figure out how to get them to do it. But I don’t see the community support for such an endeavor; men are easily embarrassed, that they are dancing at all is a Big Deal; starting them out dancing with other men will not have much appeal for straight men. Now, if you had a large pool of women who lead and would be willing to adopt a few beginners, *that* could be a motivating situation. But generally, the women who lead are very experienced followers. What could motivate them to work with beginning men, I don’t know.

Ultimately, Nila came to my rescue just as I had given up and was leaving. She introduced me to a few friends and we danced a few dances, which were difficult because of the crowd and the floor. But we had a pretty good time anyway. Another woman came up to me just after that and asked if she could lead, and we spent some time switching leads about every song, and that was nice. It doesn’t really seem like a good place to work on stuff, though, only a place to show off how good you are. That’s part of what I don’t like about milongas; I’m still working, still playing, and not nearly good enough as a leader to show off. Not really, unless you think simple moves and good musicality is showing off, but it seems like half the time I can’t get my partner to groove in the music with me; usually, she’s just following steps.

At a milonga, if you’ve screwed up and they’re not happy, they’ll often put up with you until the end of the set, and then go tell all their friends that you’re a terrible lead. Even if it was not my fault. (Explain to me, again, how this is supposed to be fun? Where’s the motivation, if there is no reward?)

I very much liked the open atmosphere, the friendly vibe, even the few tandas of alternative music. (By alternative I don’t mean Pearl Jam, I mean tango-able songs that were written after about 1959.) Homer was very friendly to me, when I introduced myself and said I was a fan of their YouTube videos; he even helped me get a ride home, which is no mean feat since Berkeley is about 25 minutes away across a bridge, or 1:20 by transit. I feel really positive about him and Cristina, and I’m tempted to see if I can arrange a private lesson with him about when it’s appropriate to relax the hips and get that huge torsion, and when it’s best to keep everything together. I think I’ll ask Michael and Beatrix the same question, and probably get different answers.

I like that about tango, that there can be many different forms that are right. Well, some people don’t think so, but I’m not very interested in their opinions. I just want to have a good time, not be all snobby about someone else having a good time.

I’ve decided to let anyone read, but you have to be registered to make comments. By requiring such registration for tropicalzen, there’s at least a little bit of accountability here, or more work for them to make a spammy or nasty remark. One of the things I don’t like as much about the “purely democratic” nature of the web is that there is no accountability; this is part of what makes flame wars easy. The way to combat flame wars is for the community to get together and say, “we’re not speaking to this person anymore” — accountability.

I’ve thought about this often; it seems to keep coming up all over everywhere, or the lack is sorely missing. We talk about a gay community, but there isn’t one–not in Seattle, and not in Puerto Vallarta. The scene is too big and there is no accountability. It’s strange to come from a large group of friends where checking references is easy, meeting new people is harder, and if somebody is a real jerk they can be ostracized, to a new city where everything is the opposite. More on that later, I think.

It’s okay to have anonymity and still have accountability; I don’t need to know your legal name, only who you are in relation to my community. It’s the relationships that *make* it community.

Welcome to it; I hope you’ll find some interesting people and ideas here.