Figures, vocabulary, sequences, and anything else labeled as steps get a bad reputation in the social tango world. Steps rank last on most dancers’ list of what makes a good tanguero, if they make the list at all. The phrase “they just did a bunch of steps” is a common way to express displeasure for a performance, and it is even a mark of pride amongst some leaders of how few steps they do. The advice often given is it is better to do a few steps than do a lot of steps poorly. “Better to remain silent and thought a fool than to lead a bad boleo and to remove all doubt.” Or, as stated in Proverbs 17:28, “even a fool, when he holdeth his ganchos, is counted wise: and he that sustaineth his pauses is esteemed a man of understanding.”
We have all seen that dancer who tries as many figures as possible, irrespective of quality, connection, or music. None of us want to be that person, or dance with that person. We see these dancers and think they care too much about the steps. We believe they should focus less on the steps to be able to pay attention to more important parts of the dance, such as the music and connection. I want to argue a different position. I care a lot about the steps I do, and by the end of this essay I hope that you do too. My thesis is that the problem is not dancers caring too much about their steps, but the problem actually is that dancers care too little about the steps they do. Steps are not simply sequences to half-learn in class, try at the milonga, and forget a week later. They are conduits for understanding ourselves, for sharing with the world, and for connecting with our history and the rich history of dance. Every step can reveal truths about ourselves.
Remembering a sequence is not the end, but the beginning of the journey. Dive deeper. Analyze more. Discover the reason behind each loss of balance, each moment of discomfort, and the cause of each mistake; then change yourself so that will always work. Visualize each movement in detail, and identify any part where your mental image is murky. This highlights the questions to ask and the areas to work on to complete your picture. Work with other dancers to get their insights and methods for doing the same steps. Understand the step inside and out so that it becomes a tool you can always use. This process can be slow, and you may come back to the same step many times year after year to discover new truths. The process of analysis and discovery is how we show our care for the steps we do. The person who mindlessly leads half-baked step after half-baked step is doing it because they haven’t put enough care into understanding the steps they do.
We each have a mental framework of how the dance works, but some frameworks are better than others. Limited mental frameworks hold us back far more than any limitations in ability or physicality. Steps are a way to expand our understanding of what is possible. Like how logicians use counterexamples to prove a theory false, steps that don’t fit within our understanding act as counterexamples to our limited frameworks. The best teachers give us steps that fail when our understanding of the dance is incorrect but will unlock easily once we have the correct framework.
Steps are the vocabulary for expressing ourselves. Having a full vocabulary allows for full expression, and a fuller vocabulary allows us to see and think things we otherwise would not have. Different steps can capture different parts of the music, and knowing more steps helps us better hear the music. Different steps bring out different emotions, and knowing more steps help us connect to our own emotions and those of our partner. Throwing around steps without care is like throwing words around without knowing their meaning. We may judge someone for using words incorrectly, but it is not the fault of the words. The solution is not to use a smaller vocabulary, but to gain the understanding of what the words mean and use them appropriately.
Each step has a story. There are several steps that I have created myself—likely I was not the first to discover them, but I discovered them without being shown by someone else. I remember each time I first dreamt the idea up (sometimes literally as I often visualize movements before going to bed). I remember the details I changed and the pieces I polished to shape them how I want. I take pride in the steps I have discovered, and I take care in their continued growth and development. I find joy sharing these ideas when I dance, and in feeling the interpretation and additions of my partner.
Each step has a history. I remember the steps shared with me, and the people who showed me. I remember the place and the feelings and the energy. This history comes with me whenever I dance. I honor where I come from and those who have taught me by caring for their steps. For remembering, implementing, and adapting their ideas. Recently a teacher was showing me a movement and she said, “This is a very old step that I absolutely love.” It is a tiny movement, but a movement passed on from dancer to dancer, until she passed it along to me. This tiny movement allows me to connect into a whole lineage and bring their spirits with me wherever I dance. Each step allows me to be a part of tango, its past present and future. This is why I care about the steps I do.