The elephant in the room

A video

A few weeks ago, a video went viral in the Greek Tango community. Two women, both dancers, were repeating phrases they’ve heard over the years. Comments full of gender stereotypes, casual misogyny, and the kind of phrases that, when unpacked, reveal more than just ignorance. They reveal a culture that sometimes looks the other way.

I applaud the initiative. We need to hear those words. Say them out loud. Hold them up and look at them. But at the same time, I also feel there is an elephant in the room that very few speak about. Something that can push the discussion one step further in a fruitful manner.

Power. That’s what is missing.
Because those words, those toxic comments, become even more dangerous when they come from someone who has power.

Before we go further… Let me explain what I mean by power. Power is the ability to influence, control or direct others.

Not all abuse is equal

Sure, a random beginner man might say something offensive. He might think being a “leader” makes him superior. But a good teacher can talk to him. Educate him. Or later on, people can just ignore him in milongas. If he keeps misbehaving, it’s not that hard to isolate him. Good teachers know how to do all the above in a way that feels non-judgmental and constructive, and they have tremendous power in that respect.

But what happens when the same words come from someone with power? Someone admired? A teacher? A famous dancer? A long-time member of the community?

What happens when the person who says or does something is someone the community quietly “protects”?

That’s when things get messy.

Power is not taken. It’s given.

With the exception of physical strength, power in a social setting is not something you have on your own. It’s something you’re granted by the group.

If I live alone on an island, I have zero power. There is no one else to influence, control or manipulate. Power is relational. It’s a product of recognition, status, and the silent agreements we make.

So if someone holds power in a Tango community, it’s because we, the rest of the community, accept and validate it. We clap for it. We reward it. We build it.

Tango’s perfect storm

Tango brings together three elements that supposedly give someone power, which create a perfect storm. Let’s break this down:

1. Gender
2. Role
3. Status

The first one is obvious. Gender. A man in a society that still favours males automatically holds some weight, especially in environments where women are still depicted or named “followers”.

Then comes role. The language of “leader” and “follower” can mess with people’s minds. A leader is not a commander. But some dancers confuse the two and think being in charge of movement also means being in charge of their partner in general.

And finally: status. This is where it gets really dangerous.

A male dancer… Dancing as a leader… Admired… Applauded… Popular…

Boom. That’s the jackpot.

Not just for the ego. But for the power dynamic. That person can get away with things others can’t.
Not just because they’re better. But because very few people want to pay the price of confronting them.

Why it’s difficult

Let’s be honest. Calling out bad behaviour is easy… when it’s a stranger.

But what if it’s not?

What if it’s someone you know? Someone you’ve danced with, laughed with, maybe even looked up to?

Imagine this: a dancer in your community crosses a line. Not with you, but with someone else. Maybe they harassed someone. Maybe they made them feel small, uncomfortable, and unsafe. You hear about it. You weren’t there. But you believe the story.

Now what?

This is where it gets messy. Because you know this dancer. He’s talented… charismatic… beloved. Maybe you’ve shared incredible tandas. Maybe he’s always treated you with kindness.

And suddenly, your mind resists. You want to protect what he’s been for you. You want the story to be simpler than it is. You start searching for excuses. “Maybe it was a misunderstanding… Maybe she’s overreacting… He would never do that.”

This isn’t weakness. It’s human.

It’s what psychologists call the halo effect. This is our tendency to let someone’s good traits blind us to their flaws. If someone shines in one area, we assume they shine everywhere. Our brains crave consistency. So when a “good guy” does something bad, we struggle to make the pieces fit together. And often, we just… don’t.

That’s why these situations are so hard. Not because we don’t know what’s right, but because it hurts to hold both truths in our hands:

That someone we admire can also cause harm.

And that facing it might mean losing the image we had of them, or worse, becoming the one who speaks up what no one else wants to hear.

The power to stop it

So here we are. You have men who think they have power through gender, through the leader role, through the admiration they receive, and you have organisers who depend on them.

What happens when a dancer crosses a line?… Says something inappropriate?… Or makes someone feel unsafe? What does the organiser do?

Kick them out? Ban them? Maybe. But let’s be honest. That’s rare. And maybe it’s not always the first step. Moreover, the organiser is not the one who has given them the power they think they have.

It’s US. The community.

We tend to think that organisers have the power here. They can kick them out… Ban them… Take any kind of measures. But if WE as a community don’t take their power away, it won’t end. Organisers can only do so much, and in some cases, their position is really difficult for many reasons.

This is where WE need to step in. Maybe give them some friendly advice, a notice, a warning. Maybe approach the victim and ask if they need support… if they are ok. Maybe through other ways.

It’s not necessarily about sending them to exile. It’s about signals.
Signals that say: This kind of behaviour isn’t invisible… and it has consequences.

Because when nothing happens, when we all stay silent, shrug, or say “Well, he never did that to me”, that’s a signal too.

A loud one. A signal that says: If you’re talented enough, admired enough, charming enough… you’re untouchable.

And that’s a slippery slope. That message doesn’t just protect one person. It warps the whole space. It shapes what others learn is possible. It tells future dancers what we tolerate and what we protect.

The women in the video gave us the words. The phrases. But words and phrases are just the surface. Now it’s on us to examine the forces that keep those words alive and challenge them. It’s time to look in the mirror and ask ourselves.

What signals do we send in real life?

Tonight’s Goodnight Tango

I don’t know if it fits, but Tonight’s Goodnight Tango is a challenge. A challenge to think about our next step.

Have you ever sent such a signal? How? What was the result?

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