The Politics of Dancing

Two things that don’t belong together. A bit like church and state. When one person, or group of people attempt to impose their will on others rather than allowing them to think for themselves, it is never a good situation. Think jihad. Like little kids in a sandbox, screaming I’m right, it is childish and immature. Do what you will where dance is concerned. Dance at the gallery if that is what your heart leads you to do. Dance at the cafe if that is what you prefer, but please, stop this childishness. We all make choices. Your choices are not better than my choices, they are just your choices. That doesn’t make them right.

I have the hardest time understanding why some on the Tango Vita board, or members of Tango Vita are so opposed to Cafe Casablanca. Here we have a warm setting, nice seating, the ability to dance as long as we like without cleanup. We are treated like family by Chuck and Eve. Certain people then have re-payed that generosity by claiming it isn’t like “this” in Buenos Aires. Hey, I have news for you guys—every milonga I attended in Buenos Aires had a club owner and staff.

I have been part of several church splits. They started very similar to what is happening here. The “old guard” gets upset because of music, worship styles, change in pastor and suddenly nothing is right. They lobby for things to remain the same, claiming that everyone else is destroying the spirit of worship etc. This is much the same. Change is frightening. It requires an open mind, and a willingness to accept those that are different.

Ultimately, no matter what the outcome of the upcoming Tango Vita elections, I will continue to support Cafe Casablanca. Yesterday, I was part of a survey on health and Canadians. One section dealt with our support network. I was asked whether there were people in my network that I could call on for home support if necessary, hugs when I needed them, people to talk to about issues that were stressful. My answer was yes to all these questions—I have a great support network. If I leave the Cafe, I leave my support network. Who in their right mind would do that? And thanks to all of you that I consider part of my support network!

Unbalanced life?

We all go through phases in our lives and I am trying to figure out the next phase of my life. My divorce devistated me, but since my trip, this is the best I have felt in years. As a result, I’ve started to wonder if I spend too much time at tango. The lack of dance was grating on me even though this is something I love to do. Because I wasn’t dancing, I forgot what drew me to the dance in the first place: the sense of connection; the beauty of the music; the conversations with friends.

Recently I had a conversation regarding balance in our lives. Her comment was that too much tango makes for an unbalanced life. I can’t help but question that. Yes, I dance three or four nights a week, but I also quilt, read, write, spend time with my family and more. Let’s not forget shoe shopping. That is a whole life in and of itself! How do we determine balance, and how can one person judge what works as balance for another person? I’ll often sew for three hours when I come home from work, and getting together with friends and sharing a dance or two is a wonderful way to finish off an evening.

Tango is what I choose to do (among other things). As long as I don’t forget that dancing goes in cycles. Sometimes the time on the floor is plentiful, sometimes the time watching is plentiful. But behind it all is the music, the friendships. These are the things that bring most of us together night after night. And hey, I’m not the only one there most evenings. Does this mean we all lead unbalanced lives?

Dance Etiquette

Some of us will not ask a guy to dance. I would no more ask a man to dance than I would ask a man on a date. So as a result, I’m the one that gets to sit on the side lines and watch. Do you women want to give others a chance? Rather than asking the men, making them feel obligated, if you let them ask us, we will all get a chance. Richard confessed to me last night that he has almost quit dancing here because women come and harrass him to dance. Last week, one woman came before he'd even taken his street shoes off demanding to know if he was ready yet. Is it any wonder then that some of us aren’t asked.

Tango Whore

Digruntled, pissed off and sure that once again I'd wind up sitting in a corner, I still put out the effort and went to dance. I'd had a conversation earlier with a friend that went something like this:

"Come for a while, then we'll go to the legion at about 10:30."

"I don't want to go in until later, mayber 9:30. That doesn't leave very much time."

"Okay, we'll leave later then. Wear a dress that works for swing and we can go to Swan's later."

"I don't want to wear a dress. I was thinking of wearing jeans. And I've tried swing and salsa. All I want is to tango."

"Gee, there is no pleasing you tonight." Yeah, that was for sure. PMS, menopause. And no dancing. Makes for some grumpy woman. And for those of you not in the know, menopause causes PMS even when you don't MS. And it is killer PMS too.

As we were talking, though I realized since coming back from Argentina, my dress has been much more casual. In Buenos Aires, the tourists often stand out like a sore thumb as they are the ones with low cut dresses, mini skirts, baubles and glitter. The Argentinean women dress casually, often in jeans, or plain skirts and tops. Because I naturally gravitate towards a more casual look, it was easy to follow. And it made no difference to the amount I danced.

Digging through my closet nets many tourista dresses. Red? Nope not that one. Too short. Don't feel like it. This one? Also red. Nope. Ooh, forgot about this BCBG black dress. Got it on eBay just before my trip and I've only worn it once. Black sequined number with gauze over silver. Sexy. Fine, fine, I'll wear a dress. Garnets bought in Buenos Aires at a flea market, fishnet capri stockings and red shoes and I was set to go.

And it worked. Last night finally felt like I was home again. After almost two months of very few dances, all my favourite leads (less one) spinned me around the room. Guess I have to remember to dress up. I'm a barbie girl...

Dancing—Or Not

I’m starting to understand how other women feel when they don’t dance. Last night I had three sets of dances. That’s it. Either I danced more before I went to Buenos Aires, or it didn’t bother me as much. Tuesdays have become a complete wash out for dancing. Fridays haven’t been much better. Although one good dance makes me itch for more, I now have so many other things on the go that it is time to only show up one night a week—or less. It makes you appreciate that one good dance so much more.

Child Support?

“I’m moving to Dublin,” my daughter announced when she walked in the door. For six months! She intends to leave in two months and come back just in time for school in the fall. She has also managed to get her father to pay support while she is in school.

“How did you manage to get your dad to agree to give you money?” Sometimes my curiousity gets the better of me. I can just imagine this conversation:

“I am legally obligated to pay child support if you are going back to school. If only I knew how much your mother was making…”

“How much were you thinking of?”

“I know I’m obligated. If I just knew how much your mother was making…”

“So just give me the money.”

“If I only knew what your mother is making”

“I could use about a $100 every other week for groceries and stuff”

He’s agreed to give her money on a weekly basis while at school and it doesn’t involve me this time. I found last night I was very worried about his questions, though. Because he has used child support as a weapon in the past, it is easy to think he will once again try to use finances to get at me. Ridiculous, I know but I had a bit of a bad night last night as a result.

Good thing the wind quit and I could go dancing. And David even played some of my favourite Kevin Johanssen music!

New Year’s Weekend

In three nights of dancing, our entire community wasn't together once. I realize that people come and go, and not everyone could be together all the time. To an outsider the rifts aren't so apparent as there are so few who only support the faction that split. And also(because of those from out of town) most of of were willing to dance at Henderson Hall. As a result, most who came on Saturday night were also in attendance either Friday or Sunday night. The few who refuse to support the cafe seemed more like outsiders than those who came from out of town. If this was a move for power and control, they seem to have lost all of it.

I did hear some disturbing comments from more than one friend of mine that now feels isolated from the community at the cafe since the split. Why are we isolating people? Tango is about connection, community and above all friendship. We will lose those on the fringe if we don't extend our hand in friendship. And it would be a great loss to our community.

The Gallery

Finally went to the gallery to dance last night. Friendship counts far more than politics in the end, and because Wendy asked, I went. Only a few people are part of both groups, so the split is very much a split. It hurts as I have friends in each "camp" and feel so torn each time I'm forced to choose who my "friends" are.

Lilliana came in, greated everyone in that wonderful "sweet" voice of hers, went down the line of women. "Merry Christmas. It is so good to see you. How are you. So glad you could make it out tonight." Yadda, yadda, yadda. Then she gets to me.

"Oh, hi" and stalks off. Later, she tried to make nice, but really, it was a bit late for that! Guess it is obvious who isn't on the "friend" list.