House Embrace

I recently had the amazing experience of going to an entirely new city and dancing tango there.  Needless to say I didn't know anyone, well other than my good friend I was visiting who is also a follow.  All the leads were new and unknown.  The atmosphere was unknown.  And as it turns out, the embrace was unknown as well.

I spend 99% of my time dancing in my hometown.  I occasionally go south and dance in a larger city, but not very often.  I'm starting to believe that every town has its own unique tango embrace (perhaps it's connected to the feel of the town and how they approach life?).  I've also come to the realization that I've developed a "house embrace."  What's that you ask?  Well, to nerd out for a moment, I'm borrowing a phrase from the world of wine.  When a person spends a lot of time drinking wine from only one winery, they develop what is called a "house palate."  They begin to unknowingly believe that their winery's chardonnay/pinot noir/cabernet sauvignon/what-have-you is standard.  It's what that particular wine is supposed to and naturally tastes like.  So, if you're like me, and you spend 99% of your time dancing in one rather small-ish town, you end up subconsciously thinking "Well, of course this is how we embrace in tango."

Not so.

My hometown is full of snuggle bugs; we love to hug here.  My southern neighbor can come across as a bit aloof in its embrace.  Quite often, the lead's containment arm will entirely fall away or only rest very lightly on the follow's back.  But when I move to open the embrace, thinking that is perhaps what my lead wants, they close it right back up again.

And this new town...oh this new town was a mind-trip.  My friend summed it up best.  She referred to a lead's embrace as looking "stern."  And it was.  That's how they all felt to me.  I didn't know what to make of it at first.  We danced there on two different nights.  The first night I thought perhaps my balance was off, but I was unaware and my leads were supporting me more, creating a tighter containment.  The second night I thought the same thing for about the first hour, then realized it wasn't so much me, as it was the way that particular city embraced its follows.

For a little bit I thought I didn't like this new city all that much.  I didn't know what to make of this embrace that felt stern--an embrace that didn't give me any wiggle room and had an unmoving containment arm that was also held much higher than I was used to.

But as I was sitting and contemplating the molasses-slow floor and the music and the strange yet beautiful old building we were in it dawned on me.  I had developed a house palate in tango.  I had a house embrace.  Knowing this made suddenly made everything so much more enjoyable.  Instead of feeling stern, this new embrace felt very polite and supportive.  Instead of feeling like I was somehow off in my dancing, I realized I wasn't in Kansas anymore (or shall I say the PNW?).

Ego

Confidence in tango is awesome, necessary even.  Confidence can take someone from being a mediocre tango dancer, to a great one.  Ego, on the other hand, not so much.

Ego is something I'm terrified of developing in tango.  I don't want to be that girl.  The one who thinks she's hot shit.  The one who expects everyone to want to dance with her.  The one who thinks she's better than other follows.

It seems inevitable though, that at some point, everyone who dances tango develops an ego.  And egos are of course, as unlimited in nature and as varied as the people who dance.  From here on out in this post, I shall refer to people with egos as The Afflicted.  (Not very nice I know, but hey, pretty accurate right?)

I heard one of The Afflicted the other day declare he felt he didn't have anything left to learn in tango.  Utter nonsense of course.  I've heard another one of The Afflicted discuss the effect he feels he has on follows.  This one was a bit closer to the mark, however, still quite a ways off.

Every time I hear an egotistical statement I cringe.  My heart hurts a bit. I find myself involuntarily holding my breath for a moment (mostly because I'm trying not to start arguing).  No tango dancer wants to listen to another dancer's ego.  But mostly I get so upset because I know what's coming next.  A plateau.

Plateaus can happen for all kinds of reasons.  Plateauing because you've lost a practice partner, can't attend class, are stuck in a rut, are having tough times in your non tango life, or for any other reason is always a terrible feeling.  I've definitely been there a few times.  The only way to get through it is to push on and keep pushing, even when you don't feel like dancing.

But in my opinion, ego plateaus are the worst because they are avoidable.  They also appear to be the hardest to get through.  This plateau requires the same kind of perseverance as any other plateau, but first, this member of The Afflicted has to admit/realize they have an ego.  This is the hardest part.

As I've realized the hard way, you simply can't tell someone they have an ego.  It's like talking to a brick wall.  Trust me, I've done it (hence the trying not to argue I previously mentioned).  In a lucky case the bout of ego will only last a few days.  In unlucky cases, well, it may be chronic.

Dancers who manage to get through their ego may never realize they had one in the first place.  Others may very well realize what was going on and strive never to do it again.

As for me, I think I've managed to avoid a full blown case of ego up til this point.  I've skirted the edges of The Afflicted's territory but never totally crossed the border.  But seriously, if I ever develop an ego, please, someone, tell me.  I may deny it at first, but trust me, I'll do some major self reflection.

Becoming an Exhibitionist

Tango has altered my personality in one huge way.

I've become a bit of an exhibitionist.

Now, don't get me wrong.  I'm not dancing tango for attention.  If I was doing that I would have stopped attending classes, oh let's see, right away.  Tango is just too freaking hard to offer the sort of instant gratification that comes with attention seeking.

But, very early on in my tango babyhood, I started dancing in public.

I started dancing tango wherever and whenever I felt like it because certain social boundaries that had been so strong before started to come down.

Think about it.  When was the last time you saw people dancing in public where that wasn't the main reason they were there (like a social dance)?  Or maybe you have seen two people dancing in a non-dance setting.  Chances are they were just goofing around.  I never see two people dancing seriously, to enjoy dancing, anywhere other than a pre-approved location.  Why is that?  Why don't people dance in bars when there's good music playing?  Why don't they dance on the street corner while waiting to cross the street?  Honestly, I don't think there is any good reason.

I've danced tango in bars, clubs, non-dancers' living rooms, on the sidewalk, in the rain on a street corner, on a dock in a marina, at the mall, and in an alley to name a few places.  (It was a very nice alley, as far as alleyways go.)

I'm less shy than I was just over two years ago when I first started learning tango.  I'm still quiet and reserved when meeting new people or in new situations, but these things no longer make me feel nervous like they once did.  In general, I've become a whole lot less worried about what other people think of me, and I owe a great deal of my new confidence to learning tango.

Dancing in public is something I enjoy greatly, not because it gets me attention, but because it gives me more opportunities to dance.  And if people are appreciative of what they see, or better yet, interested in learning tango for themselves, that is just the icing on the cake.

Kitchen Tango

I adore dancing in the kitchen.  Some of the best dances happen there, and sometimes (dare I say most of the time?), I like it more than a milonga.  Some of my best memories center around the combination of kitchens and tango.

I love dancing around the fridge, roommates, and the occasional cat on a freshly swept floor in my socks, practice shoes, or stilettos.

I love switching between traditional music, nuevo, and alt whenever I feel like it.

I love flipping the lights off and not worrying about any sort of etiquette.  I don't have to worry about saying no and having to sit out an entire tanda or why so and so won't dance with me.  I don't have to wonder if I've offended anyone by not returning their cabaceo.  I can dress up or wear my pajamas.

In short, I get to have my tango exactly the way I want.  And that's really all a girl needs.  Oh, and a glass of wine.

The Transforming Embrace

Lately, I've noticed a change in my embrace.

For quite a while now, I've been playing with my left hand.  Trying to find a comfortable place on my lead's back.  I started dancing tango with my left hand square in the center of my lead's back, hand pointed down, straight along the spine.  This of course, didn't work with leads who were significantly bigger or broader than me.  No one embrace works with everyone, as I reluctantly learned over the first year or so.  So, I began to play with a more dynamic embrace, moving my left hand out to the side on the shoulder blade, higher up toward the top of the shoulder, or even (in the case of my practice partner) sometimes down toward rib territory.

I've danced with only two fingers lightly resting on my lead's back or shoulder.  My entire hand cupping their shoulder blade.  My fingers spread out and enjoying the feel of muscle and movement.  All of this has helped me feel I'm developing a stronger embrace.

But recently, I've remembered I have a right hand as well.  And that hand holds another person's hand.

I dance tango because I desire a connection with another person.  Ninety nine percent of the time when listening to other tango dancers talk about connection they talk about the chest.  But the chest isn't the whole story.  I realized that I'm beginning to seek a stronger connection.  A connection present not only in the chest, but in the hands and arms as well.  The entire embrace.  This is why I find myself readjusting not only my left hand and arm, but my right hand as well, looking for that perfect fit.  Moving my body to accommodate different leads.  Squeezing the lead's left hand a little more or less.  Moving so that we are constantly palm to palm and not, as sometimes happens, one hand cupped inside the other.

I do this because I want my partner to know I'm conscious of them, that I'm aware I'm holding another living, breathing, dreaming person in my embrace.  Because for me, it is really only once I've achieved this, that I can get to that next step.  The embrace that takes away consciousness of everything outside of it.  The embrace that makes the dance space feel infinitely large and yet intimate and cocoon-like at the same time, no matter the actual size of the floor.  That perfect connection, that can only be found in tango.

Listen

Sometimes the chatter that comes with tango can be exhausting.  I recently attended a milonga a good friend was guest hosting after a very long and draining day at work. That night, the social aspect of tango was incredibly difficult.  Conversations were hard for me to keep up on my end.  I couldn't for the life of me remember any of the new dancers' names.  I found myself spending quite a bit of time sitting in the lounge area, acting like I was seriously contemplating my plastic glass of wine.

But the dancing.  That wan't difficult.  I wanted to embrace my partners.  I wanted move through a tanda with them.  Hold them and let them hold me.  Because I realized that no matter how tired I am, no matter how much I may not want to make casual conversation between tandas, I always want to listen.

Listen.

Sometimes that's all I want to do.  I want a conversation that involves no words.  Just an embrace.  A mutual understanding that we can communicate clearly and know each other intimately if we only listen.