Tango Women

            This may be one of the most daring blogposts I’ve ever written......or the stupidest. I want to say who I think these women are that dance tango and I know in my heart that it is a mistake to do so. I fear I will piss off so many women that I will lock myself out of the pastime that has gotten me through such a rough patch in my life.

            I am not afraid. 

            I am very afraid. 

            These are words I say to myself often. The first statement is a lie, the second is the truth and it must be spoken. Such is the curse of a writer.

            Tango women are barren professionals looking for meaning in their lives. That is so not true but I needed to say it.

            There are many tangueras I’ve met who have no children and yes, they are professionals: doctors, lawyers, nurses, etc. Of the ones I’ve gotten to know well, they all answered a question I had in my mind but did not have to ask, “How do you feel about not having children?”

            Their responses to the question varied greatly but regret was a consistent theme in their replies. How they dealt with that pang of conscience was unique to each of them. I have to deduce from their musings that they felt some sort of societal pressure to answer that question to their own satisfaction.

            Here is the complete truth: most of the women who dance tango are mothers. They are moms, grandmothers and even great-grandmothers. Many of these ladies are not even professionals; they are cashiers, electricians, welders, waitresses and dog-groomers. In fact, there is no stereotypical woman who dances tango.

            Tangueras cannot all be lumped into one category but I will take a risk and say this: they are all artists. They have something inside they feel compelled to express through movement and tango accommodates that desire.

            It seems to me that dancing tango brings them joy but also a frustration that what they have said through their dance was not quite right. Tango becomes a quest for a satisfaction that eludes them. Their lives become a constant search for the right dance partner, the perfect music, the appropriate setting or who knows what. I certainly don’t, nor do I think that they know either.


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