The Taming of Sharene

“Don’t rush.” “Stay there.” “I will carry you.”

This is what the men say as I learn to tango. It is a machista dance of a machista culture, to be sure. And yet I find myself wanting to learn to follow even as every ounce of my feminist self rebels at the idea of being told where to go and what to do. The tango is not like other dances, such as the waltz or salsa, in which both partners execute a repetitive series of steps embellished by turns or changes in direction. In tango, the steps themselves may take more or less time to execute, the turns are taken together, and the changes in direction might take you all the way across the floor.

There is a moment in which the women is suspended, held against the man’s body with her weight on one foot, twisting until he decides to release her. In some ways, it is her moment, and she can employ her grace and skill. In other ways, it is his moment, because if he lets go she might fall. And yet she is responsible for keeping her balance while she leans into his embrace. A paradox, perhaps, one I am trying to figure out.

At my last practice session I prepared to dance with a teacher I hadn’t met before.
    “I have to think of…” I started to say, thinking of how my weight should be forward, my torso turned in, the pressure light in my right hand, the backward steps long, my head tilted slightly to his, and, above all, my movements as slow as my partner and the music allow.
    “Don’t think,” the teacher said.

Right, just follow what the man marks for you (when have I ever done that?). Be carried. Float backwards around the room, never knowing where you will go next, or what you will be asked to do. Don’t anticipate, don’t direct, don’t hurry. Just be here. And here. Now and now and now.

A word about the shoes
After ducking into an alley and climbing up a flight of stairs, I rang the bell on the black door of "Comme Il Faut," one of the city's premier shops for tango shoes. There are virtually no samples on display because the saleswomen bring out what they think would work well for you. I tried on several pairs, but the first ones the woman brought turned out to be the best. Handcrafted of black suede, with a tall but solid heel and a pliable leather bottom, they encourage you to shift your weight to the ball of the foot. Of course they make me tower over most Argentine men who barely reach my chin when I'm not wearing heels. I left the shop with the shoes enveloped in a white silk sack and a little black canvas carrying bag--not-quite-ready to look like I know what I'm doing.

Comments

[Mark Dorfman]

You make the tango seem like the best thing since... uh... chocolate... yeah, that's it... chocolate! Letting rhythm and passion take control of your body, with all focus in the present moment. Latin American soul meets South Asian wisdom. I'll take two!

[alex wang]

The vicarious pleasure squad is pleased to hear about your tango lessons. Nice feet! A day without a fresh posting on the Sharene blog is a day without sunshine!

[raymond rodriguez]

Sharene, what can I say. This piece takes me back to Sally Porter movie the Tango Lesson. I can almost picture you learning...taking it in...releasing it...letting go. It does sound like a lesson in life not only Tango. Beautiful!! You'll need to teach me some girl. RR

[brian dworkin]

Love the rhythm and sway of your description. Close my eyes and I'm almost in the now and now.

[jen]

beautiful, and ditto to all of the above. i sit here in a ny law firm, sharing your latest entry on the tango w/ my neighbor secretary cool woman, commenting on how it fits the theme of the day. we keep receiving musings on the male-female power-tango-tangle-balance. i sent you the maureen dowd article that puts us in a history/herstory context. the world is a fairly small place. sometimes. lots of love! -j.