The things no one wants to talk about. That seems to be my beat.
Usually I don’t want to talk about them either, until someone insists.
It’s not that I’m getting older (I’m not.) But a friend is, and he’s starting to feel the heat.
“Older women hover around me as if they think I have a special responsibility to them. I’m looking past them to the dance floor. I’m looking for a good level match, of any age. I’m not looking for an age match.”
We all know that tangueras feel they are punished for aging. Even I –until recently– believed that tango was was an elixir for men.
I’m sad to hear that not just half of us, but all of us are suffering abandonment for aging.
Growing into tango in Los Angeles, I danced with people of all ages. I loved dancing with the older men in my class and practica. Of course I wanted to dance with them – they were the best dancers! They had been going to Buenos Aires for years. They could afford lots of privates. I was very grateful to them for their generosity in dancing with this awkward beginner. They were elegant, gracious, gentlemen, in whose arms I never had any moment of question or doubt as to their intentions. I felt it was unusual and interesting and sweet to have an innocent intimacy across generations. For me, “old men” were an absolute positive.
At my first milonga, El Encuentro in Los Angeles, one of the first things I noticed was all the elderly ladies in their thigh-slit dresses, diamante-studded stockings, and sparkly high heels – and that they were rather adored by men of all ages. Tango seemed to offer something very unusual: a safe place to age.
I wrote: No one will ever say “you’re too old to be wearing that.” What a find!
I have gone on asserting this while we all nervously watch the youngest and most incompetent miniskirts preoccupying the floor.
I must face up to the fact that yet one more beautiful facet of tango is fading away. It does seem that the losses are interrelated. The emphasis on “social” tango in lieu of virtuosity may have seemed at first to be more inclusive. But things don’t always have the effects we imagine. Abandoning ambition and the meritocracy it depended on resulted in choices arbitrarily discriminatory (ageist, heightist, cliquey) and ego-driven (dancing safely with someone familiar to look elegant, rather than taking risks to expand your skills and reach for your edge). As usual, people wrap unsavory behaviors (insecurity, fear, and discrimination) in some kind of ideology, usually trite assertions about musicality or connection.
“I think we hear a lot about women’s suffering, and not much about men’s,” went on my friend. “I’m often the best dancer in the room and it’s hard to get good partners.”
(For scientific purposes I note that my friend is an expert-level amateur, muscular, conventionally handsome, and well-groomed. He is rather the perfect test-case for ageism as there is absolutely no other reason to avoid his eyes.
When he asked for my opinion, I remembered the many times I have nodded uncomfortably when fellow dancers –of all ages– complain that there are “too many old people” in tango. While we obviously need to get over our clichés to bring in new generations, I believe we should celebrate that we have such a wonderful place to go when we are older!
In the interim, we should give our attention to dancers of all ages for two self-serving reasons: First, obviously, not to miss any great dances. Second, to consciously create the culture of our own future.
Tango is a delicious and safe form of flirtation. Let’s flatter our elders with sweet attention. Manifesting this generosity of spirit, we may be surprised to find wise and skilled dancers who we would have overlooked.
For those few younger men who still have a bit of ambition, here’s a hot tip: If you want to find out how good you are and what you can do when not hobbled by the inexperience of your partner, search among the women not wearing miniskirts. A well-trained, experienced woman will not be desperately flirting. She will be waiting confidently for a leader who appreciates her and is paying enough attention to find her.
… The friend who inspired this post is out there. He travels a lot. He’ll be coming to a milonga near you. And believe me, you don’t want to miss dancing with him!
