I have already danced for 20 years. It is only appropriate to call myself tango middle-aged. I no longer watch tango videos every day, nor go to milongas five or six times a week. I miss those days on occasion, but I am also happy with now. I like going to milongas when my heart calls for it, and dancing the tandas that are truly meant for me. There is no pressure, no obligation, just following my desire and satisfying my needs…
“This place sucks. I have been to many milongas but I haven’t seen such a snobbish place. They never even look at the newcomers,” he said with an angry voice. “It can be a little rough if you don’t know anybody,” I replied. “I have some friends here – I already danced two tandas with each of them…
Some female students feel so much pressure about their technique they cry. Why does it happen? How does this problem manifest in their male counterparts? To understand we need to investigate a dimension of tango that we cannot see.
Someone made a comment to a lady about her dance. It bothered her for days. Why do people comment on each other’s dance? Is it a good thing or a bad thing? How can we deal with criticism we do not want?
I met Andrea Missé and Javier Rodriguez right before I moved to Seoul. How did they change my tango? Why did we invite them to Korea to teach? Andrea passed away a few years later. What does her legacy mean to me?
The tango population in Seoul has exploded in the past few years. It prompted a recent visitor to say, “Tango in Seoul is no longer a community, it is a society.” What does he mean by “society”? How has this growth changed the tango scene in Seoul?
Sexual harassment and sexual assault do occur in social dance communities. What should tango students keep in mind to protect themselves?