Tango, For My Non-Tango Dancing Friends

This post is for my friends, new and old, who do not dance tango. (Those of you who do dance tango are welcome to read this anyway.)

When I started this blog (ostensibly so my mother could find out what I was up to in the Big City), I chose the name tangobaby because I had to think of something so I could get my gmail account. And then as I got used to blogging, I wrote a lot about tango because it's a big part of who I am, even when I'm not dancing. That quickly chosen name was well-chosen after all.

I was, and am, in love with the dance called tango. Even though I've obviously branched out to write about other things that excite, delight and interest me, I am still tangobaby at my core.

The name tangobaby: Tango, because to me that is the only real dance for me--despite what else I might say, and Baby, because this dance is so intricate, so involved, so enigmatic and unfathomly beautiful when the moment is right that I will always be a baby in tango. Always learning and growing, but never growing up.

I am happy to admit that tango is something I will never master (although as someone with a dilettante's nature, that is a rare thing: mastery), and because of that I will always keep dancing it, as much as I am able.

A little while ago I was trying to describe what tango really is to my sweet friend Relyn, who was delightfully curious. (What I was trying to explain is that tango is not what the mainstream culture thinks it is: as seen in Dancing With the Stars, over-edited Hollywood films, glitzy Forever Tango shows, ballroom tango (ugh), the rose in the teeth, and that hokey, smarmy pablum that is a total anathema to most tango devotees (and only uttered by those who don't dance): "Tango is a vertical expression of a horizontal desire." Blech.)

This is part of what I wrote to her in an email:

Imagine this: you are surrounded by people from all over the world, nice people, charming people. But you cannot speak their language and they cannot speak yours. And then the music starts, the lights lower, and a man takes your hand and you dance with him. You dance with him as though you have known him for your entire life, and you've only just met him. He smiles and you smile because you communicate perfectly.

That is tango. And that is true.

Tango is that lovely fantasy, a shared moment of pleasure and connection that might only last a few minutes, but is the nicest way I know to transcend, share and communicate with another person.

And then I saw this video that Sallycat posted on her blog. (For those of you who remember Sallycat from the last wonderful post...)

When I watched this, I got the chills. I watched this video in silent amazement and joy. This video, of Sallycat and her teacher Ariel, explains more about what tango really means--to dance it with your heart--than I ever could in a thousand-word essay. When you watch this, you are watching tango.




If you want to read more about Sallycat's video, click here.

Beautiful tango image by Métempsycose.