To Dance Like You

I like blueberries. The thing is that I didn’t know what they really taste like until later in my childhood. The taste I had recognized as blueberry up to that moment was the artificial aroma used in fruit juices: strong and sharp, with even stronger coloring. It would hit you right in the nose the moment you opened the juice box, trying to allure you from afar.

On the other hand, the taste of real blueberries was gentle and subtle. You could feel them only once you put them in your mouth, and even then it took some time. There’s a deeper, much better aftertaste of flavors and smells compared to the one-dimensional artificial aroma. When you taste real blueberries, you recognize right away how flat and fake the artificial version is.

Years later I entered the world of tango. Just like every average tango beginner, I was amazed by acrobatic performances and would’ve given anything to be able to do just a part of that. But as I learned more, I started to feel something uncomfortable with it.

All that parading with exaggerated moves and shiny clothes, all that posturing and acting, felt fake – just like the artificial aroma of industrial blueberry juice.

Once you start dancing socially, without worrying too much about how it looks or how much attention you attract from onlookers – only then can you feel the real thing. In my opinion, that’s the real tango.

And when you feel the real thing, the show performances and exhibitions taste flat and shallow. Unfortunately, I’ve witnessed many dancers who never grow out of the “juice box” taste of tango.

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The social tango should be – social

The soul of tango is the social interaction itself. It’s primarily a social phenomenon that lives at regular local milongas. All its derivatives like international festivals or encuentros, workshops, stage performances, tango retreats, etc., are just imitations of the real thing.

Yes, some of these are real social interactions and are closer to the true nature of tango – but others are just mimicking it. Especially the performances – they are pure artificial blueberry juice from my example above. And yes, if you define that as tango, then tango is an art form. Otherwise, I disagree.

I guess that’s how it works in today’s tango world – we’re all at first drawn to the oversaturated version that feeds the eyes. But I feel sad when I see the majority of dancers never overcome that phase. It’s like being stuck drinking artificial blueberry juice without ever tasting real blueberries. And sometimes even refusing to try the real thing.

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Overprocessed tango

This avoidance, in my opinion, often has nothing to do with tango. It’s connected to something deeper.

This society makes us alienated from each other – and from ourselves. We’re afraid to make U-turn and look inside; to face ourselves.

This is how I understand the fascination with tango performances – because, forgive me, but I can’t see deep human expression there. Their dancing feels to me like overprocessed food with artificial aromas: flat and only a shadow of what real, natural food tastes like.

What are they hiding behind? The technique.

It’s important to practice, and when people say “the technique will set you free” I agree. But it’s a sword with two blades – the highly polished technique can also imprison you. Dancers who focus too much on their technique cover their personality over layers and layers of repetitions, hours and hours of practice. You can’t see them. It’s like dancing with a machine, a cloned dancer, someone who came out of industrial mass production.

The raw dancing I prefer lacks technical perfection, but is rich in humanity. It’s not based on imposed techniques, often standardized and endlessly practiced until perfect, but on personality and authenticity.

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Where is the balance?

Unfortunately, I can’t answer this for you. Only you can. Do you want to hide behind your dancing? Or do you want to use it to express yourself?

When I first discovered tango milonguero, the first of these old milongueros I learned about was Tete Rusconi. And then, my first Argentine teacher Rafael asked me:

“Ivica, do you know why Tete is famous? It’s not because he is such a good dancer – it’s because he is a big personality.”

So, in order to be a good milonguero, in my experience, one must find the real balance between two extremes. The first is being obsessed with perfection, thinking that good dancing is in the movement; the second is not practicing enough and thinking that it’s enough to just show up without proper preparation.

Tango is not a standalone goal. It’s a tool to understand yourself and others. It’s a safe space where you can interact with people and learn about yourself in the process.

Think of it as a language: while learning other languages, you become more aware of things about yours.

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Making it your own

The way you dance is a reflection of your personality. Why should you hide it? Everyone has something valuable to share. And tango gives us the freedom to do so.

I’d rather dance with a beginner who is authentic than with an experienced dancer who follows trends and performs fashionable tango moves and techniques – especially if they avoid opening up and revealing their true self.

One of the most important reasons tango is so magical is because it allows us to explore other people and their experiences – their inner worlds and life journeys. If you hide that, what’s there to discover? What’s the challenge? If you take it away, what’s left?

Or as Oscar Wilde said: “Be yourself; everyone else is already taken.”

So go ahead – dance like you.