Argentine Tango in Flux
BY ERIN MALLEY; PHOTOS BY GRANT BEACHY
Note: This article was first published in Stance on Dance’s fall/winter 2024 print issue. To learn more, visit stanceondance.com/print-publication.
It should not come as a surprise that, along with every other dance form, COVID has reshaped the world of Argentine tango. For a dance form that prioritizes physical connection and proximity, we should not wonder that there were bound to be some changes as the world shifted into the “new normal.” And yet, there is something of a reckoning happening, showing itself in waves over the past few years. Many dancers, teachers, and community leaders are having to grapple with the expedited ways in which Argentine tango interacts with American culture, perhaps as a result of the recent social movements, or perhaps as a result of the way that culture simply changes over time.
Argentine tango has been regarded as a vintage or vernacular dance form. An extremely short history: Argentine tango has roots in African dance forms such as candombe and canyengue and became a street dance of the lower classes in Argentina. Dancers invented this form by coming up with cool figures, and then elevated it by way of dance battles to see who could make the coolest figures. As Europeans learned of tango, they romanticized it, fixated on what they could authentically retain, and imported it into their own ballroom curriculums, where it remained kind of frozen in time. Back in Argentina, the dance continued to develop – not only in the streets but also in tandem with the development of the music, and became its own cultural heritage form. Tango was suppressed by the Argentinian government during the military dictatorship (junta) in the 1970s and 1980s, and since then, seems to have been regarded with semi-disdain by the government, despite being part of UNESCO’s Intangible Global Heritage list.
In the 1990s, tango was imported to the US by way of large shows, such as Forever Tango and Tango Argentino, and with it, the social dance. Dancers in the US took what they could absorb, and tried to capture those intangibles borrowed from Argentina – the way that masculinity and femininity were represented, the clothing, the outward display of physical surrender and passion, and the social codes (such as cabaceo – the way one dancer asks another to dance with a discrete nod of the head) – in an effort to be as authentic as possible.
Authenticity is a tricky thing to replicate, especially when one is trying to capture the essence of a dance form. It is easy to be swept up in the theatricality of the spaces that Argentine tango happens in, easy to be entranced by the clothing, the shoes, and the precision – and also mystique – of the social interactions. And to be honest, I personally love the theater of tango. But what I love most is the dance.
Argentine tango is a vintage dance form. And it has often been accompanied by “vintage” – also known as patriarchal – values. I’m fortunate to have witnessed a shift in these values during the time I have spent dancing this form, and proud to have been a contributor to that shift. I remember far too many disdainful looks from leading as a woman on the social floor, and possessing enough grit to not care enough to let it stop me, but I’m proud that my stubbornness helped pave the way for more people to do it. The “Me Too” movement is also finally beginning to happen in Argentine tango, although truthfully it has a long way to go. These, and other social shifts, have been expedited in tango the past few years, thanks to COVID. Where does it leave the social dance community?
A few observations over the past few years: The first reactions to COVID, and not being able to dance closely together, were frustration, sadness, and anger. People were isolated in general, and tango dancers seemed to feel that their isolation was at least double, or exponential. Many people use tango as a coping mechanism for their loneliness or therapy, and when that was taken away, there was a particularly negative spiral.
The world “reopened!” And while I’d like to say that dancers returned in droves, they largely did not. There were losses – deaths within the community, dancers who decided the toxic masculinity was beyond what they wanted to tolerate in a hobby, and then dancers who simply moved on. There were changes to the structure of various communities – teachers and organizers attempted to reopen, found the return untenable because of fewer dancers and fewer venues, and left. Other teachers moved more gradually in reopening classes and hosting events and stayed. And some in very large communities seem to be doing very well!
Politics became a major dividing factor in the Argentine tango community. Each “side” had or has their own views on masking (or not), vaccination status, and how they felt about holding a bigot or conversely a “libtard” in their arms.
And then a new divide started happening: the divide between experienced dancers and complete beginners. Now, for a tango community to be healthy and thrive, you need dancers of all ages and experience levels. And thanks to the culling effect of the pandemic, large gaps started showing. Dancers returned to the milongas (the socials), but experienced dancers had no interest in dancing with new dancers; they wanted to get their “fix” just like they remembered it to be. Nostalgia is a major element in the lore of Argentine tango, probably a large reason why change is so hard won in this community. But in the meantime, the world changed a lot. Also, how will new dancers get integrated into the dance community if experienced dancers aren’t at least a little bit generous with their time and expertise?
My partner Doruk and I notice the effects of this when we travel to teach, and we notice it in our own community. We see the gaps in level, and the gaps in generosity more egregiously. Unlike other times, when there was a constant flow of incoming dancers, the general numbers in communities held steady because there were always a few dancers who “stuck it out,” diving into the complexities of the dance form as well as the particular social dynamics. Now, the numbers at tango events are unpredictable – sometimes we see dancers in droves, hungry for more. At other times, just a handful – almost ready to quit.
We have a lot of questions about how the future of Argentine tango will look for the next generation, and ideas about presentation; do we really have to hold so dearly to older ideas about who can dance, how it can be danced, where it can be danced, to hold onto the essence of the dance form and the dance itself? Or can we find ways to be inclusive – not just of dancers in various demographics but also dancers from different movement forms, dancers with disabilities, and different kinds of learners? And can we find a way to encourage more generosity so that this beautiful and young developing dance form does not become a “historical” dance?
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Erin Malley (she/her) is a dance artist working in the fields of Argentine tango and dance film/video art. She tours the US and Europe, teaching tango and performing with her partner and husband Doruk Gölcü. They currently are based in West Michigan. Erin works on dance film projects on a freelance basis.
For more information, visit erinanddoruktango.com (tango) and erinmalley.com (film and video).
References:
https://ich.unesco.org/en/RL/tango-00258
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tango
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