Tango in the Desert | rejection, projection and letting go

1~ RECKONINGS: The early years were rough until I quit fighting it and allowed Tango to help me understand and heal.

Rejection and Projection will happen.  There are ways to navigate it to our benefit.  Perception and patience are key as well as reminding ourselves it may not be easy for the other person.  Tango has become a more egalitarian hobby these past decades, but it is rooted in poverty, slavery, alienation and to me I see a beauty in the art form of two souls clinging together to feel alive and free… human even if just for a few minutes.

The first chapter in my experience with Tango was mostly navigating through what I perceived as snobbery, elitism, cliques and egos.  Looking back I can give some grace to some people.   I was definitely vulnerable in those days partly for reasons I’ll share later, one being a story I don’t believe I’ve ever told anyone.  It happened in the 11th grade of high school. It bothered me for decades and now I can look back on it with empathy. I let it all go by allowing it to be part of my path to something unexpected and meaningful. Never in my life did I think I would become a full-time guide for dance. It kept creeping up under me, beside me, above me until finally I let it in. Social Argentine Tango helped me heal… when I finally opened up and let go of the past.

It is true that Tango is more white collar and accessible to the  privileged in the US. This is not the case in Argentina. It does not need to be so here, either. I have a hair-trigger response to any tango snobbery. I can’t abide anyone thinking they are better than others or too good to dance with beginners. I have never met a great dancer who acted this way.   

Rejection is often a blessing

Rejection is more often an offering for a better time later on.

Projection ripples through communities. We will all do it at some point. The key is to limit ourselves as to how and why we vocalize it.This is very tough. I struggle with keeping a lid on opinions.

Projection is more interesting turned back on ourselves.  “Why do I think this and what does it matter what they are doing?”  I was once given a copy of Byron Katie’s “Let Them” book and it helped with this very real occurrence, especially with the last of the 4 questions she recommends we consider:

1. Is it true?

2. Can you absolutely know that it’s true?

3. How do you react when you believe that thought?

4. Who would you be without the thought?

So let’s look at how rejection can become a blessing and how projection can allow us to turn ourselves back around more true to who we strive to be… and get more dances!

Rejection & Dejection

Rejection likes to hang out in our thought area. We are not getting dances, enough dances or we think, “why is that person not dancing with me?”  We are vulnerable in this dance, especially after the fun and care-free feeling of the first few weeks wanes.   The dance requires us to be fully present and open to subtlety.  This may put us in a state of being that feels exposed and vulnerable that brings in the egoic mind and then the “fun” begins.  For me it was an overactive, self-doubting voice in my head that prattled incessantly for pretty much the first decade I tried stepping tango.  Key word there was stepping tango, not feeling tango or understanding myself.   We have to know and trust our own selves before we project outward to blame others for discomforts.  I needed to learn how to be exposed and find strength in stillness moving with another person.  I doubted that the simplistic methods I had could be pleasant for another dancer.   I thought, back then, that the fancy dancers… the ones with legs moving and heels coming off the floor, doing crazy turns and zipping around the room were “the good dancers.”  And, since that style didn’t resonate with me, I couldn’t allow myself to accept that the quietness I was able to offer was desirable.  I thought Tango was this fancy, cliquey, lonely activity with glimpses of connections just enough to make me force myself to go back for more.

That self-doubt, no doubt, could be seen and felt. This is the gateway to dejection and that awful feeling of leaving a milonga gutted, getting home and feeling empty, not worthy. It happens and will happen until we can be okay with not needing validation.

If we are not getting dances, more often than not it is because we have put our own selves in a state of dejection. Let’s admit it, how often do we go out of our way to talk with someone we don’t really know at a coffee shop who is looking glum and bitter? In Tango we are committing to spend several minutes in very close proximity to another person and communicate without words and hoping for a relaxed and engaging conversation.  If we are feeling rejected and dejected, too often from lack of patience or unrealistic expectations, how can we realistically expect another person to sign up for dancing with us?  It’s a lot of time and energy. This is an interesting subject we’ll keep coming back to with tips, observations, and navigations for: missed & passed over miradas (the looks used to inquire “would you like to dance?”), rejected/postponed cabeceos (the nod or gesture to accept the mirada), why the music is telling us ‘yes, ‘no’ or ‘not right now,’ and how to survive cuando estamos planchando los pantalones con la silla (when we are ironing our pants with the seat… from sitting so long not getting dances!).  We need to take a step back, allow things to unfold, trust the flow and be aware of how and what we are feeling because that is what others will be picking up.  Whatever is being broadcasted is what others will be tuning into on their own frequency.   

Getting to the Source

It wasn’t until after my first immersive trip back to Argentina¹, this time for the dance, that I was able to return home to Pennsylvania much more capable of adapting to the tango scenes in the U.S.. Luckily for anyone starting Tango today, the overall scene in this country has been vastly improving due to so many good people focusing on inclusion, community, and floorcraft. Yes, floorcraft! Floorcraft is part of the social code of conduct too often overlooked up here. It is a skill to hone more than anything else in this social dance. It is how we demonstrate to others mindfulness, care and overall desire for the community to grow. It is simply good manners. 

There was very little, if any, floorcraft in my first decade dancing in the U.S. and this contributed to the countless number of times I quit for long stretches of time. This, combined with tango-by-steps, I believe contributes to why so few people stick with the dedication it takes to feel Tango from the inside. I really have no idea why or how I stuck with it long enough to love it. I quit countless times and life kept putting it back in front of me, often in humorous ways.

It’s not the dance’s fault. 

It is the voice in our head that tarnishes perspective. Tango is innocent because it does not take sides, nor does it care about our dramas, foibles, projections or bruised egos. It just offers possibilities. We are the ones who close the doors and draw the curtains into darkness.

Tango is for the people, a celebration against loneliness and disconnection. Unfortunately, like most good things, it has been gentrified and presented as egalitarian and out of reach of working class people who don’t have the time and energy for antics. In Argentina it is still very much a dance for the people. The social rondas there are jammed packed and for the most part people flow without interrupting by bumping into other peoples’ moments under the music. 

Hopefully by sharing negative experiences that turned out well in the end, it’ll serve simpatico and soothing for others who may be feeling similarly. So here it is–some examples of projection. Some crap I went through, more often than not of my own creation… and how tango helped me gain an upper leg and rest on higher ground.

High School | hiding in the shadows

For those of you who know me today or met me in the last eleven years may find it interesting to know that I was so painfully shy and introverted growing up. I barely spoke in public, and only in comfortable settings. If I wasn’t working washing dishes or mowing lawns or shoveling snow on weekends I was practicing kung fu or tai chi out in a field by myself. I was a loner, pretty much. I did like being in social settings with others when I didn’t have to talk or think of what to do with my arms. Sports and writing alleviated that issue… what to do with my hands. I enjoyed sports, but not so much overly competitive sports where the objective was to just win.

In middle school I was the new kid. In sixth grade I was threatened to have “(my) ass kicked in the rose garden after school” every day by a kid named Jake who had a mullet and the dirty upper lip of an early mustache. Jake was stocky and had dark eyes and was always accompanied by a large kid named Chucky who in my middle-schooler memory was a huge candied snowball with fangs and eyes disconnected from a thinking brain. There was also another guy in the trio who was a football star, scarily strong; yet, I don’t think he wanted any part of it and maybe that’s why I can’t recall his name. The bullying stopped when a gal from my block, Jody, kicked Jake’s ass in a hallway on my behalf. I had no idea any of this was going on. I recall hearing a rumor she liked me and he was jealous and I was just so clueless and remained so until I was 23 years old, pretty much. She lost interest in me after slugging Jake around in the 8th grader’s hallway.

I also managed to get kicked out of almost every lunch table in 6th grade save for two… the misfits tables. They were awesome and didn’t care that I didn’t know how to be cool or say cool things. This is probably why I can’t abide any bullying or “cool kids” garbage. I don’t have time or patience for it.

I got through those two years by just not saying much, and in the summer between 7th and 8th grade I started to work out . There was an article in a comic book advertising “increase your vertical leap by 10 inches” or something like that.  It worked.  No one ever bothered me, again.  When I returned to school for 8th grade I had gained a lot of strength doing pushups and jumping squats in the garage that summer. Then everyone seemed to want to be my friend, and by then I really didn’t care.  I was quite aloof and only liked the people that were genuine, doing their thing and treating others nicely. 

Tango would bring up these middle school memories for me to deal with later… 

Rejection, alienation, social awkwardness, these were some of the reasons I thought Tango was toxic. Later I would understand that it was more like the dog offering you a fresh kill because the dog thinks you may be hungry, too. Tango was only helping by offering up these memories like saying “hey, you want to just deal with this crap and get it behind you for good?” It took a long while for me to understand and step aside from my ego’s machinations and projections to finally just say back “yeah sure, let’s chuck it.” Or, to the dog, just politely saying, “nah, you go on ahead and enjoy, fella” and let them digest it and enjoy it.

I’m getting to the story… I am… one night at the high school homecoming dance…

In High School I was still socially hesitant when it came to speaking aloud, what to do with my arms, and also dancing. Dancing involved arms and moving in view of others that wasn’t a playing field, court or swimming lane. Being aloof and of few words helped get through the days and weeks.

It was homecoming. I was in 11th grade and I’d been elected to student government probably because my speech was so short all I could get out was “Graham. Representative. Thanks.” It got a cheer from the bored-as-hell auditorium of 400+ eleventh graders, I think because everyone else had been yammering on with election speeches. I was just sweating bullets, being alphabetically one of the last to speak, and in a panic having to say words in front of a room I just blurted out 3 words with 3 periods and sat my arse down without fanfare. I got elected. 

The 12th grade student President (Alix) and VP (Jill) were awesome at coaxing me out and feeling more comfortable. I liked the student government for the chill and non-judgmental vibe they created and for the fact I could always arrive late to school. Homecoming came around and I was down for setting up the dance after school, but had no intention of actually coming back later for it. They convinced me. Figuring out what to wear was overwhelming. I preferred my work clothes. I had no Friday night excuse because I’d already called off work washing dishes at the Confetti Cafe. I returned later all cleaned up and tried to feel normal, whatever that was, with a stupid leather corded belt around my waist. I’d never worn one before and had no idea why I borrowed it for that night. The clothes I had on moved in opposing directions on me. Everyone seemed to be having fun and not giving a darn about how they looked. I remember feeling paralyzed by these damn arms that felt like I was holding them in my own hands , awkwardly separate from my body (which also did not know what to do). I was a marionette mess with a  bobbing head out of sync with butt and knees and arms. What a jerk. Jill and Alix were having a blast and I felt like a wooden doll on a pogo stick. They were kind and encouraging.

But the awkwardness gripped me and started to strangle. Everything slowed down and I couldn’t decide what to do or where to go. I couldn’t tell if I was moving or not. I recall some concerned looks. Maybe only my eyes were moving. I probably wore a grimace.

Eventually, I slipped out unnoticed and ended up in the small hidden parking lot between buildings. It was empty and I knew there was a payphone near the sports trainers building off the stadium. There was no one about. The payphone was in the light. I wanted to make the call quick and I remember not wanting anyone to see me. I must’ve sounded like an idiot and didn’t have a good reason for wanting to be picked up right away before anyone knew. I should’ve just walked the miles home–I’d done it countless times to work and sometimes to school when missing the bus. I guess I was more afraid of being seen alone after a dance, which is weird because I never minded doing things alone. My mother answered and was nonplussed, rightfully so. Eventually she must’ve read into the panic I must’ve been trying to cover up. My mother does not suffer fools. I am thankful for this. She would meet me off the entry road behind the stadium, though. 

We hung up and I slid further into the covered entryway into the dark shadows and waited. My view was straight out the drive where it curved to the parking area where I’d exited the dance in the upper gym of the main building. There were cars 100 yards away traveling down Elizabeth Avenue. There was no one walking, no voices and no sound. Just the shadows where I waited for the old Volvo to clunk a right turn into the driveway and its round headlights to beam straight into my darkness. I have no idea why that night the dance affected me so much into such a feeling of failure and uncertainty.

Forever passed in ticking seconds. Then voices came laughing and trickling out down the lane. FUCK. How could I explain what I was doing back there? It would be my ruin for sure. They flowed with the bend and down the lane towards Elizabeth Avenue. They were all having fun. They were in little groups. A few even glanced back into the entryway sending shards of panic like a shotgun blast into me.

No one saw me. I was well in the cut of black behind the angle of the buzzing street lamp slant. One girl must’ve sensed something was in the shadows for she bent over to gaze back while walking forwards squinting to see through the black. Her friends luckily pulled her up and they stumbled on weaving as they walked, scraping the soles of their shoes on the macadam and laughing. The voices and bodies became more infrequent. The Volvo pulled up. I slipped in unseen. No words were exchanged. I went to work a double the next day. I tried to forget about it, move on, and decided to avoid dancing.

Tango kept coming back into my path…

I share this story now because I never really thought dance would be so much a part of my life, and that I would improve so much by it. It’s a far more rewarding life having filtered the past through the present. 

I don’t know why I ever stuck with Tango, especially between the years 2006 and 2013. I was fixing old houses full-time (over-time) in all phases, but I loved structural carpentry the most. After a long week it was a struggle for me to rally desire to drive to Philly or bus it to NYC (both 90 miles away from Bethlehem, Pennsylvania). Tango was a tangle of undeliverable moves taught in disjointed segments that were useless at a milonga, and quite frankly I didn’t get along with any of the males I would meet in these scenes. They seemed to me all puffed up and strutting around these small ponds with over-inflated egos. I didn’t need that aggravation after a week of slinging concrete or reframing old houses with compromised foundations. 

People were bumping into each other, whipping around with legs flying doing fancy moves that I recall one milonguero in Argentina calling “tango kung fu” as he shook his head in disgust at what was happening to their folkloric dance. Too often I’d be driving home in my rickety work van with no working heat or radio after midnight asking myself what was the point if I don’t quite understand why I am doing it, how to do it, let alone in a scene with a bunch of chuckleheaded dudes wearing t-shirts and acting like boy-royalty. Nope. I have been nonviolent since May 7, 1999. That was my last physical altercation. The tango scene back then really pushed my resolve to be a peaceful man. 

I put tango down, a lot. I think from 2005 to 2013 I probably only actively danced for two and half years in any social scene.I would, however, always be interested in the potential of the movements and the music. In Spring of 2016 I actually gave up tango for good. Then that same morning I got a phone call that changed my life. 

I fought against Tango and only hurt myself 

There is no point in blaming Tango if we don’t dance or get the dances we want.

There is no point in feeling rejected or projecting negative thoughts about the intentions or actions of others.

So many times, I tell you, when I let go of the negative thoughts, both projected and inward, and surrendered to the flow, I was always rewarded by the Tango deities². If someone is not looking at us for a mirada / cabeceo³  (the look / the nod), it may have something to do with us and it may not. Perhaps the music isn’t right. Perhaps we are rhythmic dancers and they are looking for a melodic tanda. Maybe the last time you danced together you were so tense it was uncomfortable. Maybe there is no reason.  So don’t sweat it. A better tanda⁴ will come about later if we remain open and relaxed. Whatever we project others will pick up, there is nothing new about this. If we are relaxed and ready with buena onda (good chill vibes) we will get more dances regardless of our “level.” I don’t really believe in levels. There really are no levels. 

It was in the last two months of 2016 that I began to see Tango as an ally. I was immersed in Buenos Aires and studying intensively with Monica Paz. I had the fortune of starting over from the beginning with her, a bonafide teacher of Argentine Tango, and also with three great milongueros at her studio: Roberto “el chino perico” Ponce, Eduardo “el nene” Masci, and Juan Lencina. They saw tango as vida, life! They told me to “relajarse la cadera, pibe!” “Relax your hips, kid!” Relax and have fun. Tango was not stuffy or elitist there. It was full-on everything you had in you shared in rondas with social codes in place for good reasons⁵. In 2018 I remember where I was, even the time of day, when I finally accepted some truths, let go of the past and allowed myself to grow. Was it easy and will it be easy for others? Perhaps. I hope so. It depends how willing you may be to let go and open up to the social flow Tango offers.

Today I have a lot of male friends in Tango. The climate is changing for the better thanks to so many caring and warm people taking up the mantle to organize and build community in their area. 

This is a dance of human interaction with ourselves in one-to-one, in small groups (the couples dancing before, behind and alongside us in the line of dance), and in the community as a whole. It’s true. If someone is dancing selfishly and dangerously it affects the whole room in a negative way forcing others to deal with them one way or another. Tango reflects where we are in life as much as how life is at the moment for the society it encompasses. It will amplify our feelings, good and bad, because it is indifferent to our perceptions. It amplifies what we feed back into it because ultimately, at the end of the day, Tango is us seeking to harmonize, connect, understand and be understood through a medium that leaves us exposed (to grow) and vulnerable (also to grow). 

This dance has helped me in so many ways. I hope it may for you. 

Be sure to read the Footnotes in this RECKONINGS post! 

If you liked this article and found it helpful, please click the little heart icon. It helps to know this forum is resonating. RECKONINGS, this subset of postings, will be the platform for future personal stories in the months to come. I’m hoping to post-up twice a month.

Give us a ❤️ at the top of the page if we did a fine job.

Massive thanks to…

Two very generous editors:  Amanda Daloisio  and  Jutta Lehmer 

Everyone who kept me in the good and kept calling me up to come back out during the rough years between 2005-2016. Many are still in the scene and thankfully so! From the Philly scene: Elly F., Karen J., Zoey. From the NYC scene: Elif O., Tijen, Olga. From D.C. Kate O., Lisa C. From “rural” PA: Ann & Willy, Sharon H., Edilia and Fanny,(the Colombian grandmothers!). Maine: Jewel R!

My friends in England & Europe (2013-2020) who brought such deep social experiences sharing food, time, space and adventures which happened to have Tango a part of the mix, too. I hope to return some day soon.

Thank you for making Tango healthy all those years until I could fall off a building and later that night buy a plane ticket to Argentine in 2016.

1. I lived in Bahía Blanca, situated near the border of Patagonia & the Atlantic, for a year when I was 18 (1994-5). I went on a scholarship from a local Rotary Club. I arrived without hardly a word of Spanish. I don’t recall ever seeing tango that year, or perhaps I had no interest if I had. I do vividly recall a man singing to his wife “El día que me quieras” (by Carlos Gardel - the link goes to Spotify for a listen). He was the asador (grille master) that evening and over the wood coals as the chorizo and ojo de bife sizzled he sang with a mixture of alegría y nostalgia (joy and sentimental memory). I remember he wore a red v-neck sweater as it was winter in June. We were outside and she was sitting wrapped in a shawl… the way they looked at each other… it left an indelible impression. I was mainly interested in heavy metal and punk in those days. This happened on my first evening in Argentina. I spent thenight in Buenos Aires with this family, Carlos y Juana Staffa-Morris, since there were no flights further south to Bahía Blanca until later the following day. Bahía Blanca is also the birthplace of El Señor del Tango, Carlos di Sarli, one of the four pillars of Tango music. I did not know this fact until 2005.

Can you spot “el Yanqui boludo” (the Yankee ‘dude/doofus’)? Bahía Blanca 1995 en el pogo del último ensayo de Asacris….the mosh pit of the last gig by my friends’ heavy metal band, Asacris. No tango for me in 1994-5.

2. Tango Deities - I say this tongue-in-cheek and also with experienced reverence. There is a flow in tango… a current. We can either choose to swim against it and tire and lose. Or, we can surrender to it and let it carry us. We have to trust ourselves, relax, relinquish expectations or demands and allow the moments to just be. I have been, many times, “planchando los pantaloons con la silla” (ironing my pants with the chair)… sitting so long without being able to get a mirada/cabeceo… sometimes for hours. If I let it get to me, I would only gain a defeat. When I just let it be, let the evening unfold, observe and take in… I always learned new perspectives, ideas, understandings. Most importantly some of the most exquisite tandas came at the right time, right music, perfectly played out by the flow and unworried patience. 

3. Mirada / Cabeceo - is a social construct to ensure freedom and equality. La mirada (the look/the gaze) stems from “mirar” (to look at). Cabeceo (the nod) comes from the word “cabeza” (head). The notion that the “man” invites is archaic and quite frankly I have not really experienced this to be true. In Argentina many milongas have seating with specific areas for: leaders, followers and then couples. There are also club milongas where seating is by area or table of friends. Either way, folk use mirada / cabeceo more than anything. In a seated milonga (the hosts situate you)… if you are leading that particular milonga you would gaze politely over the seating area where the followers are sitting. There is very little verbal asking to dance at traditional milongas. Sure this will happen at clubs, practicas and informal milongas. However, at traditional milongas it is a much more interesting social construct to use instinct and reconnaissance (we should be watching dancers and making mental notes how they dance and possibly to which orchestra we may wish to dance with them)! 

I love the art of mirada / cabeceo. It can be fun, humorous, cheeky, electric, collaborative, serendipitous. There will always be times of miscommunication, missed cabeceos, cabeceos in error. However, what I love about this system is that no one is interrupting your evening or space by putting out a hand and verbally asking to your face “would you like to dance?” This won’t happen. We do need to learn the art of well-timed and relaxed miradas without anxiety or too much enthusiasm to seek a partner.

Two dancers agree –equally– to lock eyes for a brief moment and then nod heads (or other gesture like raising an eyebrow or wiggling ears or tipping a glass) to confirm wishing to dance with each other for that particular music / tanda.  There are times when not a single word is uttered between them. It’s lovely. It’s more common in milongas in Buenos Aires where one can find a confitería style milonga where the hosts sit you and that is your place the whole afternoon or evening and other dancers have the chance to see you dance and then where you are sitting so they may form ideas of which style of music they may like to dance with you. Since the seat is assigned to you (based on familiarity, dance ability, understanding of the codes, luck, timing, dress, etc.) people generally know where you are situated, and vice versa, so that when you hear a particular orchestra at the beginning of a new tanda it’s easier to laser first glance (mirada) in more accurate directions. 

4. Tanda - a word with both African and Arabic roots translating to mean “a social agreement.” We dance tandas at a milonga. Tandas are generally 4 tangos in one collection (preferably by the same orchestra, time period, vibe and singer if it is a collection with cantante (singer). Tandas are separated by cortinas which can be any style of music that is not tango, vals or milonga. Cortinas are meant to bridge tandas, maintain the vibe, clear the dance floor so that all may have clear view for the next tanda’s mirada/cabeceo once dancers hear what music will be played. THIS is the important part… actually listening to the first measure (compás) or phrase (frases) of the next tanda BEFORE you find a partner… the music is so important! There are tandas of 3-4 tangos, tandas of 3 vals (at times 4), and tandas of 3 milonga songs throughout the milonga.

5. Codes - there are plenty of references online. We’ll go into it at a later date, too, in exploring how things can be explored here and in these times.