Hi everybody, Fran here with your Tango Tip of the Week. Why is Tango such a difficult dance to understand, much less to learn? This is a question we all ask ourselves as we try our best to grasp the essence of this complex — often exasperating — social dance expression. Today, I’d like to concentrate on what I consider to be the unique dynamic of social Tango — the physical manner in which experienced leaders and followers in Argentina interact with one another on the dance floor — and how this very particular tradition developed over time.

In Argentina, the customs and conventions of social Tango among seasoned dancers in the milongas seem to reach back to the late nineteenth century, and to the way social dance culture existed at that time. (I’m not talking here about the actual origins of Tango, which are somewhat controversial, and go considerably farther back in the country’s history.)

The learning process for becoming a skilled social Tango dancer during the 1880’s and 90’s was quite different for men from what it was for women. Most male newcomers learned to dance Tango in the isolated environment of the social club (men only!) by physically serving as followers to the older, more experienced leaders. Once it was determined that a given “student” was up to the task, he would be elevated to the role of leader. As such, he would then have to spend many hours practicing his newly acquired skill before being considered ready to attend the milongas, and actually interact with women. (There is also some speculation that many men honed their skills dancing Tango in the brothels, but we’ll be gentile today, and place them politely in the social clubs.)

During this same time, women, on the other hand, were a highly “protected” species. It was considered indelicate — if not downright scandalous — for a woman to spend time learning how to dance Tango. Some women certainly managed to pick up a small amount of knowledge from their relatives or peers, who might have acquired some experience in the dance halls. But this process was all very clandestine — and to protect her reputation, a woman would usually profess to know little or nothing about what was looked upon as a rather tawdry, vulgar social dance.

In this context, a man would find himself at a milonga, fully prepared to guide his potential partners through the Tango as he interacted with them on the dance floor. This was — and, by the way, remains today —the essence of leading social Tango. The man improvises simple movement from one individual step to the next, and makes it easy and comfortable for his follower to move with him. At no time, would a leader even think of engaging in questionable, “flashy” behavior, which his follower might not be able to grasp. His role was then, and is now, to make her dance as pleasant and manageable as possible.

The traditional follower’s role, given the constraints of life in the nineteenth century, was to allow herself to be led from individual step to individual step, waiting patiently for each improvised movement as invited by her partner. At that time, good leaders knew their role as social dancers: Invite a step, allow their follower to execute it, monitor what she’s doing to make sure she’s able to get it done easily, comfortably and in balance; then lead another step.

End of story.

There would have been no question that a leader might suddenly launch himself into his latest YouTube fantasy, because, of course, the scourge of YouTube had not yet inflicted itself on the social dance. And there would have been no question that a follower might fear for her very life as she was being raced around the floor at breakneck speed, never being allowed to find her equilibrium — until, mercifully, the dance was finally over, and she could retreat to the safety of her family and friends.

A very important reason many of us leaders find it difficult to understand and learn social Tango today is that we don’t comprehend — or refuse to accept — the underlying tradition of the dance. The siren song of show-off performance captivates all too many leaders to the extent that they pay little or no attention to their followers’ real need; i.e., to be invited one carefully led step at a time.

We can reverse this, if we really want to. As leaders, we can (yes, I know, with great reluctance) put the fancy figures on the back burner until someone actually asks us to perform. And as followers, we can try keeping our feet together as we respond to our leaders — without feeling the constant need to pull out every adornment we were ever exposed to in those high-priced classes we’ve taken.

Let’s try to bring ourselves back to the dance tradition that was practiced during the early years of social Tango. We’ll all be so much better dancers, if we do.