Hi guys.  A few of my posts on etiquette, I realize, might make me appear like a mean woman who thinks she is above the men at the milongas - I assure you all that this is not the case.  (Ask Miss Tango, she knows me!)  This blog is for my venting purposes, and I want to make sure that this is clear. 

I think - actually, I know - that most of the men who go to social dances are people who simply want to dance.  (And that is the purpose of going to a milonga, right?  To dance?)
Most guys I see at the milongas are beautifully sensitive and just great and I don’t talk about them enough on here.  When I complain about babysitters or critics or whatever, I’m complaining about the small percentage of guys who either don’t “get it” or, who mean well but don’t realize how they come across - this blog is my forum to do so. 

I think it’s important to express my viewpoints, however controversial they may be to the average sensitive tanguero, because though Tango is meant to be social, women are also meant to be respected.  And I’ve seen my share of situations (not necessarily my own experiences) in which this has not happened.  What I really want as a woman, is a little sensitivity.  If I don’t get that sensitivity, it ruffles my feathers (which I then write about in my blog).

As Boris said in a comment, Tango is a social dance.  And I agree that it’s important to keep that enjoyable quality.  But for that to happen, a woman should be able to turn down who she wants to, and not be chastised or babysat for it.   Yes, the woman should be friendly and respectful when saying “no” to a dance, but the man, as I’ve said, needs to accept that refusal, however it is expressed, and move on.  As Tanguera said, it’s a delicate balance.  Yes, it absolutely is.  The bottomline here I think is respect. 

To quote Cacho Dante:

 ”Guys, to dance Tango, you must listen to the heart of the woman.”

Fabulous dancer Ney Melo is someone I always pay attention to, not only because of his elegant style but also because of the wonderful things he says. I can’t wait to meet him when he and Jennifer make their visit to Seattle. Incidentally, they were recently in Perugia - which made me so nostalgic for Italia and all my tango friends there.

Ney wrote a very good article on myspace, on the do’s and don’ts of inviting at a milonga. I like to think that he and I would agree about babysitting.

Here it is…

One of the most confusing aspects of Tango is the whole political issue of inviting/accepting/rejecting dances. Up in the northern hemisphere you won’t find a lot of the cabeceo, though I’ve been seeing it a little more lately, much to my delight.

The cabeceo is just fabulous for everyone involved – If you want to dance, you’ll somehow catch my eye. If I don’t feel like dancing, I simply won’t look at you. It’s great – no rejection, nobody feels bad for turning down a dance, and I’m not stuck in the “penalty box” (the penalty box = sitting out a couple songs so I don’t look like a jerk by saying no to you and then yes right away to someone else)

The only complaint I have about the way people utilize it up here is that the men seem to think it means they get to go right up to the woman do it. Really, please, do the cabeceo from across the room. If I want to dance, my eyes will find you. No need to get in my face – this sort of defeats the whole purpose, don’t you think?

The other difficulty I have is the whole concept of babysitting, which I feel is uncomfortable and unacceptable. Babysitting is basically what happens when a man asks a woman to dance, she says no, so he sits next to her – or worse, stands in front of her – and waits for her to be ready to dance. If a woman says no, it means that she does not want to dance with you. Go away, wait an hour and ask again if you must, but it is very uncomfortable for the woman if you sit there and watch her.

This happened to me the other evening – someone asked me to dance, and I said no, that I was going to just relax a bit. My plan was to sit a couple songs out and then hopefully dance with Mr. Fabulous. Well, unfortunately this didn’t happen, as Mr. Babysitter cramped my style. He sat next to me, and sat, and sat, watching me, talking to me, watching me. The tanda ended and another one started, and Mr. Fabulous was trying to catch my eye. Unfortunately, Mr. Babysitter got right in my face to talk and talk some more. Mr. Fabulous looked away and found someone else to dance with. To find some freedom, I was suddenly “very thirsty” and excused myself to the refreshment table. There I found Mi Amor (yay!) and danced with him instead which was wonderful.

Anyway, I’m not saying that you can’t sit down and talk to a lady. I have male friends sit and talk to me all the time at milongas – but they don’t babysit. They really just want to hang out with me – and, they position themselves so that I can be open to invitation from men who want to dance with me.

I really enjoyed the segregated seating in the milongas of Buenos Aires (men on one side, women on the other – couples seated elsewhere, aka purgatory). Babysitting was impossible and the cabeceo was completely necessary. I don’t think this sort of arrangement would work in Seattle, so we have to make extra rules for making each other comfortable. Ah, Tango and its politics.

For those of you who read Spanish, Tanguillo is at it again - he wrote a wonderful article about the line of dance, which you can find here.

At a recent milonga I had a run-in with a “Hot-Shot-Wannabe Jerk” who was visiting from another state where he apparently teaches. He invited me to dance and once we were on the floor, he began to embrace me. Something was a little uncomfortable about his embrace but I liked it because it was more or less very close and his posture felt rather nice. Then we started dancing. He jerked me around, led moves that were a bit large for the space, and worst of all, he ran me into other couples. This was very uncomfortable. Oh boy, this was going to be a long tanda.

Throughout the whole first song, I had a gut feeling that he was either going to hustle me for lessons or criticize me. I tried to push that out of my head so I could just try to enjoy dancing with him. The second song felt more smooth as I began to better understand where he was in the music, and I was able to meet him halfway, sort of. This was very short lived though.

As the second song was finishing - let me clarify, BEFORE the second song was even finished - he started criticizing me, telling me what he didn’t like about my dancing and trying to correct it verbally. I won’t say what he said, because it doesn’t matter. What matters is that he was so eager to start in on what he didn’t like about my dancing. This was hurtful and rude. “Excuse me?” I said, and tried to defend myself against his negative words. He repeated himself, and was just about to talk about himself as a teacher, so I interrupted and said, “I’m sorry but I don’t dance with people who criticize me. I come here to have fun.”

And with that, the tanda was over.

When a woman dances tango she is leaving herself emotionally vulnerable, and when you criticize her in that moment, you are attacking her soul. That’s not very nice. It’s like being in a relationship - well, it IS a relationship - you enter cautiously, slowly allowing yourself to become more open and vulnerable to the other person - and that can feel very dangerous because you run the risk of getting hurt. Can you imagine falling in love with a person you are dating, only to have them turn around and start criticizing you, telling you what’s wrong with you? Ouch!

When I dance tango with a man, I am trusting him with my body and heart and soul, trusting that he will protect me and and make me feel wonderful inside. If all goes well, it’s bliss. This goes away quickly when you try to be “helpful”, or in this guy’s case, egotistical.

So men, here is an important lesson: Please don’t teach at a milonga. Please don’t correct someone at a milonga. Please don’t criticize at a milonga. JUST DANCE. And try to have fun too.

For those of you who know Spanish, or want to practice, and also are curious of some of the codigos, this is lovely to read.

Reminds me of last night… I had accepted a “cabeceo” invitation to dance last night, and was rising from my chair as the young man approached me. At the same time, a man was walking up to me from the side. I didn’t even notice him as I wasn’t even facing his direction. Just as I was beginning to embrace the fellow who had “cabeceo’d” me, the man who’d come from the side asked me to dance - then stopped himself, realizing that I was already starting the tanda with someone else. I smiled and apologized - not his fault, it’s hard to remember all these codigos sometimes. But let this be a lesson, gentlemen: If a woman isn’t even facing you and is rising from her chair - it kind of means that she’s already been invited to dance, and you’ll probably have to wait until later to invite her. Also, if you’re not planning on doing the cabeceo, at the VERY least, please, PLEASE don’t approach a woman from the side or from behind to invite her to dance - it’s really disconcerting and awkward for the woman to suddenly have someone in her face like that. It’s much nicer to approach her from where she can see you - honestly. We don’t like awkward surprises. Or at least I don’t.

Yesterday I had the pleasure of attending the afternoon milonga at Club Español, with the lovely Miss Tango. What a gorgeous place. All sparkly and shiny and elegant. I’ve only been to milongas in the company of Mi Amor, so it was nice to go with a girl and be available to dance with other men. See, if you go with your sweetheart to a milonga here, and sit with him, and are obviously with him, the men won’t invite you to dance, out of respect… it’s one of the codes here. So it was girls day out yesterday, and what fun we had. We shared some champagne and had some good conversation and people-watching. I enjoyed the dancing too - the guys were just nice people who like dancing Tango, nothing more, nothing less.

This was also my first opportunity to utilize the cabeceo here in Buenos Aires, which was fun. I discreetly scanned the room, and an older man in a red shirt made eye contact with me. Once eye contact was established, he sort of nodded his head in the direction of the dance floor (to invite me to dance). I, the Princess of Perugia, nodded (in what I hope was an elegant and graceful way) as though to say, “Why yes, I’d love to.” I didn’t want to look desperate so I made sure I had channeled my inner Sophia Loren for this occasion. He rose and walked toward me. When he was close enough, I stood up and waited for him. (Sophia Loren would never get up and walk towards the man. Then again, I don’t think Sophia Loren dances Tango, but that’s alright. I still channeled her.) I enjoyed that.

I enjoyed that when I wasn’t in the mood to dance, all I had to do was not look around or look men in the eye. Men here do not approach the woman at the table to ask her to dance - unless she’s a good friend who won’t turn them down. The cabeceo is wonderful because it empowers the woman, in my opinion, to be more selective of who she dances with, and it prevents the man from experiencing rejection, which can be embarrassing.

One man did come up to me and asked me to dance. Right in my face. I smiled and politely said, “No, gracias.” I wasn’t in the mood to dance, and I didn’t really want to accept an invitation like that - I hate being put on the spot unexpectedly. And, in Buenos Aires, everyone - I mean EVERYONE - is watching everything you do. I wasn’t about to violate any codes just yet, for fear of being placed in Tango Purgatory next time. He proceeded to ask other women who were not so nice - they simply ignored him. I felt kind of bad for him. (So fellows, when you come to Buenos Aires, please practice the cabeceo. You will feel much better about yourself at the end of the night.)

Another man I’d never seen appeared out of the blue, as in from behind me, and said, right in my face, “I really want to dance with you but I can’t for two more hours because I’m working. But then we can dance.” I stared blankly and bit my tongue to prevent myself from saying “Who the heck are you and where did you come from, and do I care?” I was surprised that someone would just approach me from the side and surprise me like that. Creepy. Eventually I realized he was working as a “taxi dancer” - basically, a woman had paid him to attend the milonga with her and dance with her for a few hours. Now I really didn’t want to dance with him - it would have felt just… impolite and sort of tacky.

Later on, I had accepted (via the cabeceo) an invitation to dance and was rising form my chair as the inviting man reached me - when all of a sudden, Mr. Taxi Dancer appeared FROM BEHIND ME again and said, “I can dance now.” I looked at him and said, “Well I’m sorry, I can’t. I’m about to dance with this man right here.” I was amused at how arrogant some people can be. It’s just not polite to approach a woman like that at a milonga - and it’s really not polite to act like she’s just dying to dance with you. If you want to dance with me, get my attention in a polite, respectful manner.

In any event, I had a great time, some fun tandas with nice people, and I got to know Holly a bit better! After the milonga, went to dinner with a group of friends. Guess what we ate. Yeah, steak. And fries. And salad composed of… yep, you guessed it. Lettuce, tomato and onion. This seems to be the standard fare around here. And while I’d love to see more vegetables (under “Vegetables” in the menu last night, I saw that BUTTER was one of the items), I don’t think you can find more fabulous beef anywhere else - the Argentines have it. Grass-fed and delicious.

I do have a spooky story to share about the apartment we’d picked here, and you should see it in a few days at the most.

One night in November, at a milonga in a town called Terni, I was taking a break from the dancing and having a chat with my friends Helaine and Nando. All’improvviso (suddenly), Nando looked and me and said, “Tina - sai che cosa mi piace di te? Da tutte le donne nelle milonghe qui, tu sei l’unica donna che sa sedersi. Mostri le tue gambe perfettamente, e così gli uomini vogliono invitarti a ballare.” (”Tina - you know what I like about you? Of all the women in the milongas here, you’re the only one who knows how to sit. You display your legs perfectly, and therefore men want to invite you to dance.”) He went on to tell me that I should teach a workshop on how to sit beautifully at a milonga. Yeah right.  I’ve never considered myself “the one who displays her legs perfectly”, though I do tend to pay attention to how I’m sitting.

It’s not something most women think about when they go to a milonga. They’re concerned with the dancing, and forget that the way you sit - from your posture to the expression on your face to way you sit and place your legs - could affect the frequency of your being invited to dance - in my opinion. It’s something I’ve noticed with women everywhere. They slouch, sit with their legs open, and talk to each other - a lot. Perhaps too much. Then they complain that they didn’t dance much.

First of all, if all of your energy is concentrated on your friend and you’re facing her and engaged in conversation, what about this says that you wish to be invited to dance? Second of all, if you’re slouching and your legs are lifeless, it’s important to consider that to those who can see you, you look tired. Like you don’t want to dance.

When we dance tango, our legs are full of life and energy - even if we’re just pausing. Don’t you think we should apply that same energy to sitting? I think so. So, I decided to take a few pictures of my legs, in various positions. Positions that I’ve seen at milongas, as well as the position I usually put my legs in. Now you may agree or disagree with me, but I have received compliments from others in the way I place my legs, and women have actually asked me how to do it. Please enjoy - and pardon the bruise on my shin.
How NOT to sit, if you wish to be invited:

This position looks like you’re waiting for someone to score a touchdown in the Superbowl. I’ll be frank: It’s not feminine and it’s not flattering.

This one says, “I’m bored/I’m exhausted/I don’t feel good about my body/I spilled wine on my blouse and this is the only way to cover it up/I don’t want to be asked to dance/I feel ill.”

This one is telling us, “I’m impatient/I’m sick of this place/I feel ill/I don’t think I’m as good as the other dancers.”

This position is communicating, “Boy was that a big meal. I don’t know if I’m physically comfortable enough to dance.”

So Tina, you’re asking, how DO you sit at a milonga? Well darlings, it’s all about the legs. And the posture. Sit up straight, have life in your face, be interested in the fact that you are at a milonga. If you want to chat with your friends - wonderful! Just remember where your energy is at all times. Now…. to the legs. My personal preference has always been to keep my foot pointed instead of flexed. This elongates the leg in a really nice way. The other piece of advice I have is to think loooooooooong. Think Jessica Rabbit legs. Doesn’t matter if you’re petite - think long, just the same.

Here’s the way I sit:

This is one of my favorite ways to cross my legs. Notice how they remain close together, unlike the crossed-legged photos above. It’s slinky, it’s elegant, it’s long. It says, “Well, this is an interesting place. Hmmmm…”

This is how I sit when I’m channelling my inner Sophia Loren. This, combined with eye-contact, has gotten me dances very easily. I usually am sitting up straight too - remember to sit up straight! Posture posture posture, girls!

This is a nice way to sit when I want to lean over to say something to a friend. My energy is still alert to the world around me, but I’m able to lean over toward her to hear what she might be saying. When my friends at milongas talk to me, I listen, but if I wish to be invited to dance, I tend to keep facing the dance floor a little bit.

If I’m tired of crossing my legs, I simply do this. Not my favorite, but at least the legs are still alive.

Really though, the best advice I can give is to sit in front of the mirror and play with different sitting positions. Do what makes YOU feel confident, sensual, elegant, ready to be invited for a dance. Keep being yourself - just be aware that body language is indeed very powerful. Now go get ‘em, tigress!

It was spring or summer of 2003, back in my intermediate days of Tango. Every Tuesday there was a milonga at Mr. Lucky in Seattle. It was a kitchy place with a bad wine selection but was a perfect space for tango, nonetheless. Somehow Evan always manages to get the lighting just right at his milongas.

I was having a pretty good night, dancing with my favorite leaders, talking with friends, truly enjoying myself. Only something was off. There was an older, stout man with glasses staring at me. And staring and staring. It made me a little uncomfortable and I kept avoiding eye contact because I didn’t know who this man was. I’d never seen him before, so for all I knew he was just some guy who came in to check things out, for the sake of curiosity. I noticed that some people I knew who were well-established in Seattle’s tango community were talking to him, but I still just tried to ignore him.

Later in the night I was standing with my friend Gregory, watching the dance floor. I was trying to concentrate on watching the other follows’ footwork, but couldn’t shake that staring guy. “You know, that guy won’t stop staring at me, it’s weird.” I pointed him out and Gregory matter of factly replied, “Oh. that’s Cacho Dante. I think you should make eye contact with him. And then you should dance with him. He wants to invite you to dance.” “Cacho WHO?” was my blank response. “He’s a legend. Go dance with him.” I hadn’t yet learned the codes of inviting at a milonga so I didn’t realize that he’d been trying to catch my eye to invite me to dance. And I sure had no idea who this Cacho Dante character was, but okay. I took a sip of my tasteless red wine, looked back at him, and and he motioned with his head towards the dance floor. Well, okay… here goes.

And thus began a very intimate, subtle tanda with a very sensitive milonguero who knew just how to take care of me… my perspective on Tango was totally changed, and I resolved never to judge a book by its cover again.