Tango and competition
Social tango is competitive by nature. But it’s a strange kind of competition. There is no physical prize at the end, there is no certificate of accomplishment or a medal at the end of the milonga. We go in competing for the attention of someone we want to dance with. We might want to dance with them because they are considered high level, or because we are attracted to them physically, or because we want to prove ourselves in some way.
Whatever it is we are after, we judge our success on whether we get that specific desire satisfied. So what are the obstacles in our way, who/what are we competing against to get that thing that we want? How do we know we have achieved our goals?
For me it was pretty straightforward, at first… Dancing a tanda meant I was “winning” and sitting out a tanda meant I was “losing.” Every time I danced I felt a small burst of pride and satisfaction that I was good enough to be asked to dance. And every time I sat out a tanda I questioned my self-worth along with my outfit, makeup, technique, physical appearance, and hairstyle.
In this simple, binary world, I had but one nemesis - the other women in the room. Upon arriving at any milonga, I would immediately scan the room to assess my competition. Then I would assess who are the “prized leaders” I will be competing for, where are they sitting, who are they dancing with, how old are they, how are they dressed … Doing this gave me a sense of the work ahead of me, whether I was coming into the game at an advantage or a disadvantage.
At that time I was extremely insecure, with a ton of baggage about my body and my self-worth. Male attention was the source of my self-worth so anything that came between me and that threatened my sense of self.
So in the context of the milonga, other women were my obstacles, they stood in the way of both my good time at the milonga and my self-worth. As a result, I rarely talked to other women. I acted like I didn’t notice their beauty, their amazing skills, their charm. I tried to hide my admiration for how comfortable and confident they were in their skin.
One of my first nights in La Viruta I remember watching a woman emerge from the crowd, wearing an opulent fur coat, impeccable makeup, with an entourage around her. Her presence had so much magnitude, she looked like a total boss. I both hated her and worshiped her because I both wanted to be her and didn’t believe that I ever could.
I felt like I was the weirdest looking person in the room, constantly checking that I don’t have lipstick on my teeth, or boob sweat marks, or my underwear showing. Half the battle at the milonga was just me keeping it together and sticking it out through the shit storm of doubts and insecurities.
Now looking back, it’s easier to see the problem, the solution, the lesson of it all. But inside of the storm it’s hard to see clearly what is reality and what is unnecessary, useless beliefs that do nothing but deter us from being who we really are. Ultimately though, being a chronic optimist, I believe we are all destined to end up at the same place of love and acceptance for ourselves and for others. So, like the song says “Todo es amor…” and as long as we remember where we are heading, we will find our way through the storm sooner or later.
So I did find my way through to another place where other women are my allies, my best friends, the ones I go out of my way to see and dance with at the milonga. And that feels AMAZING, really! It’s a whole other realm of tango that I didn’t know was possible. Does that mean there is no competition? Not quite. There are still battles and storms, but now I know that the nemesis is myself. And the journey of befriending myself, accepting myself, learning to be myself has been the theme of my tango.
Do you relate to any of this? I would love for you to share either below in the comments or send me a personal message.
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