Tanda Interrupted
“I’m sorry, this is not working for me,” I say nervously and walk off the dance floor. In my 13 years of dancing tango, never once have I walked off the dance floor in the middle of a tanda.
I always finished the tanda… because you just don’t break the etiquette. If you do… something bad will happen. Nobody else will ever dance with you again. You will have offended the tango gods and they will curse your ochos and nobody will ever dance with you again. Or even worse, other people might talk about you… and nobody will ever dance with you again. (insert other irrational fears here)
It’s just not something that’s done… I thought.
Not when one partner was so drunk that he barely walked a straight line. Not when another partner inappropriately groped me or made sexual advances. Not when another one openly insulted me like that time a young professional teacher looked at me in the middle of the tanda and said “you can start dancing whenever you want…” suggesting that what I was doing was not “dancing.”
But here I was - doing the unthinkable!
The fellow who invited me to dance was a familiar dancer to me. We danced several times before.
As we take the embrace though, everything seems to fall apart immediately. His movements are jerky and uncoordinated. We stumble awkwardly through the first song. He looks at me and says “i’m trying…” I feel for the guy, he is not having a good night. But I am also acutely aware of my growing discomfort. My heart is pounding and the only thing I can think of is “I have to get out of this NOW.”
I remember on my first trip to Buenos Aires, my first night at La Viruta - the hot afterparty milonga in BA. I am wearing a brand new pair of silver Comme Il Faut shoes that are a half size too small for my feet.
A poor recommendation given by the sales person claiming that they will “stretch.”
I am in agony after one tanda and I get an invitation from an older milonguero who had danced with me at another milonga a few days prior. I am thrilled that he “chose” me. I feel this means I am good enough. We dance the first two songs and my attention is drawn more and more to the foot binding torture I signed up for, wondering how much longer I can stand it. After a couple of more songs it dawns on me that there are no cortinas…
How do I know when it’s over if there is no cortina? What am I supposed to do/say? What is appropriate/acceptable? My mind is frozen, an error message across the screen. I am in panic mode because I don’t know what I am supposed to do.
The man looks at me after the 4th song and says “Otra?” Helplessly I say “Sí.” I can’t say no to him… I literally cannot pronounce the word, even though my joints are on fire, I persist. I don’t even know why, but I feel totally obligated to continue dancing with him for as long as he wants. I am waiting for him to release me. We dance for what feels like an eternity.
Eventually his enthusiasm wanes and he looks upon me with pity and says “Agua?” I gratefully agree. Still not able to just walk away, we sit next to each other at the bar until he finally awkwardly leaves and I am finally free.
Learning to draw clear and appropriate boundaries and speak up has defined the majority of my tango journey from that night onward. Every milonga, every tanda, every interaction has been an opportunity to define and redefine my boundaries, what I was ok with and what was off limits.
So here I am, more than a decade later, and I have a choice:
to finish the tanda because that’s what is expected of me, because if I don’t, I will hurt my partner’s feelings, because other people might notice
OR
to do what feels best for me, to be honest, to prioritize my comfort and feelings.
As I walk off the floor I feel shaky, nervous, awkward…
But also exhilarated, liberated, proud.
It’s taken me a loooooong time to get here.
Written by Yelizaveta Nersesova