Selected Interview Quotes

"NW: How did we decide to organize in those specific venues?

AZ: …We actively chose to stay at the LGBT Center, even though there are other choices, because we wanted to get the exposure that the LGBT Center brings us, but also add to its programming and make it more of a diverse space in terms of what types of offerings they gave to the community, because most of the activities at the center are aimed towards addiction recovery or youth—there's not a lot of adult activities that are purely social in nature."

— Arty

"We are resilient. We've tapped into our community and we've pooled resources in order to create the space. It's so important, even despite the challenges, to create spaces, because we have found as a society, and especially as a queer community and society, that the absence of queer spaces is a very real and present threat to our fabric. There's so many think pieces about what that means and what is our future, and we are still doing our best, standing strong, making it work, and really looking to our community to provide that support that we need, because we could not do it without Leo giving his space for free, or the LGBT Center giving us a discount, and that—you know, we'll see how long it lasts, but it's a challenge, definitely."

— Arty

"For me, personally, I don't find it that uncomfortable to go to a straight event and put on my: 'I'm a lead tonight. I'm gonna dress in my button-down shirt and my pants and my fancy tango shoes, and I'm going to go up to women or cabaceo them and ask them to follow me.' But it is an act. It's a performance that is not truly genuine to how I would prefer to dance, which is going up to other queer folks asking them, 'Let's switch. Do you like to lead? Do you like to follow? Do you want to play?'"

— Arty

"I do this because it makes me feel better about my body. It makes me feel better about being part of the queer community. It makes me cherish being queer and cherish the emotions and the happiness that I get, the emotional fulfillment from being queer. Because when you are in the clubbing space, when you are in the space where it's based around hookup and desirability, that can make you feel horrible to be a gay man. It can make you feel like this is not the right community for me. I think that there's a lot of people who say, I don't feel like there's a place for me or a space for me in the queer community, because I'm not desirable, and I know that no matter how undesirable I am or am not, it doesn't matter, because I lead queer tango classes, and that's a huge part of the queer community. We're here. We're here being unapologetically ourselves and taking pride in that."

— Arty

"I hope that my friends can all find something that is similarly bringing meaning to their life. Not everyone is gonna organize. Not everyone is going to build a community around something the way that we have and that is valid. But I think we all need to be doing something that makes us feel like we know our place in the world."

— Arty

"NW: Has tango changed how you think about community?

AZ: Yes, 100%. It's not changed the definition of the word community for me, but to be in this community is so important for me. Going back to what I said at the very beginning, it was missing from my swing dancing life, and it was something I really wanted, and now that I have it, I think that it's so rewarding and so great. I think that it's important for everyone to have a community. It's missing so much from modern life, right? I don't know if it was ever real, but we were sold on this idea that back in the day, people had villages and knew their neighbors, talked with each other, gave each other casseroles, pies, celebrated with them and supported each other. I think that nowadays, from what I understand with other people, you have your friend group, but it's not quite the same as having this community. It's very much like church, right? Like the..

NW: the community or the friend group?

AZ: I think nowadays, people think of their community as their friend group, but it's quite different to what I'm talking about. I think it is more akin to a church community, right, where not everyone in your church was your friend [Noah laughs] but there was this kind of expectation that you were all bonded by a shared faith and devotion for something, and that when something happens to a member of the community, somebody in your church gets cancer, their parent dies, they get divorced, etc. that you were all there for each other.

That is something that I think is very akin to the queer tango community, where I'm not necessarily friends, I don't even say I love or like every single person in the queer tango community, however, we share this common bond, devotion, faith, towards something, and when someone passes away, as we saw with what just happened with a prominent queer tango organizer's wife's passing, we are all there for each other, and we are offering support, and we do hold them in our thoughts, and that there is this sense of communal care, even for people who we don't really know personally, right?"

— Arty

"NW: How did you start dancing tango?

AZ: I began at UC Berkeley. They have a program where you can get a few class credits for attending student taught classes. It was called the DeCal system. There was a tango DeCal at UC Berkeley that was run by the students, and they hired outside teachers, similar to tango clubs at a lot of other college campuses. However, this one was an actual course that was a semester long, and you got credits for taking it, and they took attendance, and you had to do final projects. I had taken a swing dance DeCal—a student taught class—in freshman year of college, and that really sparked a love for dance. I had been taking just any dance class that I could take. I did a square dance DeCal and then I did this tango DeCal. After that tango DeCal, I kept at it and did classes on and off until around 2018."

— Arty

"NW: Why do you continue to dance?

AZ: The community is so huge. I still swing dance, I still love swing dancing, and I do organize swing dance things. But one of the big things about why I stopped doing swing dance as much, and why I actually took a very, very long break from swing dancing, from dance in general, was because I started swing dancing in 2013. I was doing that for maybe four or five years straight in San Francisco, and I knew many, many people in the scene. However, something that I told people was I was frustrated how I wasn't really making friends. I wasn't really being invited out to dinners, people weren't messaging me to say, “Hey, are you going to this dance?” and I wasn't being added to group chats or anything.

There were two parts of it. One, I wasn't making the effort to make it community. I wasn't asking people, “Hey, do you want to go out for drinks after this, or do you want to meet up before this?” Or “Do you want to go out to a movie?” Other times, I was just going out there to dance, and the other side was I felt a little bit othered, and I don't know whether that was because I was queer, or…I don't think it really was that, or whether it was just a difference in mindset, or maybe I was just too shy, but after around four or five years of dancing with all the same people, but still not feeling that I had any connection with them, I felt like that made me want to stop. I just became kind of disillusioned. I was saying, why invest so much time and energy into this hobby where I'm not even making any friends?

…Then in tango, I think I made a much more concerted effort to talk to people, and—I don't always do it, I still prioritize the dance more than socialization, but I think when I came to New York, I was looking for friends and I was looking for community, obviously, because I had just moved to a brand new city, and so I think I made more of an active effort to follow up with people, to find people. And it is helpful that in New York, I think people are more open and inviting and want to hang out and make friends outside of the classes and outside of the socials. Tango really helped bring me closer and helped me make new friends. I think the commitment that I put into building community and making friends was matched in tango, and I really appreciate that, and also in swing dancing as well. So maybe it was New York [laughs] more than the dance itself. But, you know, I put in effort, and I am seeing clear reciprocation in terms of appreciation for each other."

— Arty

"NW: What does it feel like to dance tango?

AZ: The feeling really is indescribable because it is a language that is not words, so it's similar to saying what's it like to speak Chinese? It's a language where you are communicating with your body. You are suggesting, you're proposing, you're saying, I want to move here. Will you come with me? Will you follow me in the direction that I'm trying to go? And when you’re following, you’re saying, you're going to propose something to me, and then I'm going to propose something back. I'm going to take that and interpret it how I want. It's so beautiful and so magical."

— Arty

"Why do you organize queer tango events?

AZ: I was disillusioned with swing, and I was saying nobody's trying to make a community. No one's creating a space where we can all connect and be friends with each other, and we can all improve and grow and learn together. I felt like there was a need for it, and I think that Phi Lee—I have to thank Phi Lee so much, because it really was the queer tango symposium that she organized….I just hope that she maybe will appreciate how I consider what she did to be the base and foundation that we built on top of.

For context, in 2022 Phi Lee organized a queer tango symposium. She invited people from all around the world to come and gather in Gemini and Scorpio Lofts in Brooklyn, and to just talk about what tango is, what tango organizing is, what tango means for all of us, what we want to see out of tango, what we don't—what we are seeing, not in tango that we want to see. And she spoke about how she wanted more people to organize, more people to step up.

She spoke about how burned out she had been organizing so many queer tango classes and events. She said, you know, members of the community always ask me how they can help, and that is labor that I have to do now, where I'm now thinking of assigning people tasks and I now have to run this whole thing. What I want people to do is to step up and offer what they think they can do. That is how you relieve my burden, that is how you relieve the stress, and that is how you contribute to the community. Not by asking me what you can do, but instead offering what you can do. That, like—

NW: like taking initiative?

AZ: Exactly. She was saying, you can't expect me to just tell you what to do, right? We're a community, we all have to work together. That really inspired me, and I reached out shortly afterwards to you and to Phi Lee, to talk about, “okay, let's put the theory into practice.” Let's actually organize the queer tango classes. That's where we really started, was classes where we have a regular space, where people can learn, and it can be accessible, and it can be a low-pressure environment, and it can also be inclusive and queer-centered."

— Arty

"NW: Could you describe one or two moments that encapsulate for you why you organize queer tango?

AZ: The moments that I already mentioned, but also we have so many great examples of times where we have felt really loved and beloved by the queer tango community. The most recent anniversary milonga, you were presented with a plaque—I was not there, but they presented us with plaques. I was so touched by that. I'm pretty sure it's up in my sewing room, up on a shelf. The fact that they—that every month we host a space, and on many of the months, everyone says, like, “Let's cheer for Noah and Arty. [Noah laughs] Let's really give them the credit for creating the space and organizing these classes and being there every single week.” Because it does feel thankless sometimes. It's not easy and it's stressful, and you give up a lot of things when you say every Saturday in the afternoon, I'm not going to be available for parties, for other things. So the appreciation that our community has shown us, and how much they tell us that they appreciate—that's something I love."

— Arty

"Does tango have something particular to offer queer people?

Yes, 100%. There is something about tango—I tell people this all the time about how I felt like the gay male community is so based around clubbing, alcohol, and partying. And I experienced all that. I did all that, and I can't say that I didn't have fun, but I felt that it was very difficult for someone who was Asian-American, who was Asian, who does not have a certain body type, and is not, in my opinion, the most desirable person in terms of physicality.

Tango has made me feel so much happier about my body, and made me feel like it was a genuine connection that was not based around desirability but instead around skill and a genuine desire for emotional connection. Maybe not deep emotional connection, but there is a very big difference between seeing a person in a club and engaging with them and seeing a person at a dance class and engaging with them. The mindset, the framing, the ecosystem, the context and environment is so different. The act of dancing, prioritizing the dance, the artistry, the physicality in a way that is not based around “I think you're hot, I think you're attractive, I think you're sexy,” but instead, “I love the way you dance. I love the way you embrace me. I love the way we are holding each other. I love the way that we are having a conversation,” that I think is not sexual, but it is a very intimate conversation."

— Arty

"NW: Has tango changed your relationship to yourself?

MS: It made me happier, in my relationship to myself. And the community, to feel a part of something for actually, the first time ever in my life. To feel that I found people that are kind and generous and sweet—it's a little bit like coming home. It's meant a lot."

— Mikael

"NW: Has tango changed how you think about community?

Definitely. I feel if you dance queer tango and you're not trying to build a community and help out, it's gonna die. I think everybody who dances—you have to help out, and you have to do something for it, because otherwise it dies out and it disappears, so...you have to be a part of a community. Since I want to dance, it's come naturally to organize because I want to have it. You gotta make it appear, what you want."

— Mikael

"NW: Has your queerness impacted how you relate to tango?

MS: No, but I do feel I've learned more about my queerness through queer tango. The talks that happen at the queer tango events have opened my eyes to think of others more. Like, we were in Valencia, and we were talking about, how can we get more people of color in the queer tango community? How can we get people who can't afford coming to spaces like this or to festivals to come and join? How can we make non-binary and trans people feel more safe and secure in those environments? Just talking about that, I think it's the sweetest thing ever to create spaces where people feel safe and welcomed. That's something I want to be a part of."

— Mikael

"NW: Why is queer Tango important to you?

MS: Well, it's about belonging. It's about being seen for the person that I am. It's about friends. It's about happiness, dance, connection. Tango has enriched my life in so many ways. I've gotten to know so many wonderful people through it, and just the sheer happiness of dancing it also."

— Mikael

"NW: How did you start dancing tango?

MS: I was shooting for German Elle in Berlin and I was in this little restaurant in Mitte called Spiegelsaal. They have a beautiful garden and while I was sitting there eating a schnitzel, I saw beginners tango. I thought, yeah, why not? I was by myself. So I went up and there were all these couples. I thought, oh shit, I should have brought somebody, but this one woman was sitting by herself, so I asked her, “Would you mind taking the class with me?” She looked at me a little skeptical and said, “Yes, but I want to lead.” So we took that class, and I just found it so much fun because following you just sort of let yourself go. We took the advanced class after that, and I thought it was amazing, this magical dance.

Then the milonga started, and this handsome guy, Stefan, came in with his friends, and I started talking to them, and they invited me to their table, because Utta, the one I took the class with—I'm friends with all of these people today—she left because she had something else to do. I stayed with Stefan and all of these people, and they all danced with me that night, and Begita said, “Here is Andreas Laerke. Go and take lessons with him, and then come and dance with us tomorrow.” The next day they said, well, the queer tango festival in Berlin is starting tomorrow…I just dove into the whole thing.

I saw that they had lessons at the Berlin Queer Tango Festival. One of the lessons was with Walter, and it was on boleos. And I thought, oh, boleos! I want to learn how to do that. I took the class, and he said, “Oh, I'm from New York. Next week we have 12 lessons for $100.” I came back to New York, and I took those 12 classes that led up to a performance at the queer tango festival. Edgar was my partner, Phi Lee was the one facilitating it, and Leo and Walter were the ones who did the choreography of the dance."

— Mikael

"NW: Why do you continue to dance?

MS: So many different aspects. I don't know if I should say community first, but maybe it is. A community that we all are a part of and also the wonderful magic of what it is to dance tango. A friend once said, you have four dances to make somebody fall in love with you. [both laugh] And I really like that little saying, because to enjoy one another with music and the connection and the magic that you can take steps and feel where you're going is, to me, a magical dance, to be fully present with another person."

— Mikael

"NW: What does it feel like to follow?

MS: If it's a close embrace, I can just melt in their arms and experience their sense of musicality and experience them as a person and also show myself in that embrace. It feels like a hug on clouds. It feels like sex a little bit because of the connection of being so in the moment and feeling each other. It’s a little bit like falling in love.

NW: And what about leading?

MS: Leading is taking care of the other person, about making it musical and connecting."

— Mikael

"NW: Why do you organize queer tango events?

MS: So that there are more queer tango events. Because I only like going to them, and there aren't that many. That's why I organize."

— Mikael

"Do you think that tango has something particular to offer queer people?

MS: Well, I've noticed that it's not for everybody. It's a tough dance to dance. If I didn't meet Utta and she hadn’t led me, I would never dance tango. If I had taken that first class and been the leader, I wouldn't have understood the beauty of the dance.

NW: And what is it about queer tango that makes you want to bring it to queer people?

MS: Well, the connection, the beauty of it all, to experience a person in such an intimate and beautiful way, to move as one together with music and be creative and playful, and I get all these endorphins. When I dance I get a high, and if I go to a festival, I'm high for three, four days. Because I don't know a better feeling in my body. Even though I'm exhausted, and you dance till three, four in the morning every day, it's the sense of community. You feel seen also by the other person that you're dancing with. It's taking care of one another, really tuning in and seeing one another. There's a gentleness and a careness and a beauty. And why wouldn't people want to do that? [laughs]"

— Mikael

"NW: What is one moment that encapsulates why you dance tango?

PL: I want to say it's when I was dancing with this older lady in Argentina. I think it was a combination of not expecting an Argentinian in Buenos Aires to be interested in and accept my dance—to want to dance with me, because she actually mirada-ed me. It defied a lot of that assumption of, oh, she only wants to dance with men. She only wants to dance with an Argentinian who dances a traditional style. When we danced, the way she was so present with me influenced how I was with her.

We were so present with each other, and I could feel—maybe I'm projecting—but it's like I could feel all the stories and experiences in her body, and there was a lot of acceptance of me for who I am, there was such an embrace of each other, of who we are at that moment. I forgot what I was doing. It wasn't about any movement anymore. It was just about being present with each other. It was one of the most lovely and memorable dances and I think ultimately to me, that is tango."

— Phi Lee

"NW: What do you think makes for a good organizer of queer tango events?

PL: I think it's important to recognize your own ignorance and to always reach out to members of the community who share very different experiences based on their gender, age, coloring, ethnicity—to be aware of all the different experiences. There's no way we can fully understand, but I think we need to at least do a little bit of research and be open to all these voices and let that inform the choices that we make for an event. It's a fine balance of what we want to create and also, what are the voices that have not been heard? Who are the people who are invisible? How can we balance it without losing our own integrity?"

— Phi Lee

"NW: How has your queerness impacted how you relate to tango?

PL: Well, in the beginning I kind of kept it in a box. I boxed up my queerness. I was reinforcing this sense of shame that I had, which was not the explicit shame, but rather the very, very deep, deep, deep sense of shame. In the beginning, when I was rejected by dancers, for me that rejection felt, or I perceived it as, a rejection of my sexuality. So it hit me really hard and deep. So since the beginning, I had this chant that I would go to a straight tango space and say, “I'm not here to fuck you, I'm just here to dance tango [both laugh]. I'm not interested in you. I'm only here for tango. It's all about the dance, it's all about the dance, it's all about the dance.”

So that became—I embodied that. It was all about the dance, and I didn't realize the effect of it, of how I was restricting and limiting myself, until I was at the Miami queer tango festival two or three years ago, and Mariana Docampo talked about how even though she was able to dance with women in the straight milongas, she felt that it was necessary for her to organize queer tango because it allowed her to express her sexuality. When I heard it, it was one of those moments that was like a bell, that rang really loudly, resonated so loud. I was like, what do you mean, explore your sexuality?

And I did. I mean, I didn't really know what it meant, but when I was dancing with her, I allowed myself to feel this...almost like a sexual intimacy, or allowed my attraction for women to be present in my body.

At the same time, I was invited to perform in Miami with a queer dancer for the first time. I had never performed with another queer dancer before in the past, so it sort of—I started questioning what it is that I want to show in a performance. What does it mean to me? What does the dance mean to me? And [my dance partner for the performance] Diana was very open about how she didn't care about how she looked. She just wanted to show that she's who she is, and she's proud to be who she is, and so that gave me the license or the motivation to also explore that.

Since then, this is when I started going to all the queer festivals in Europe, because before that, I was too intimidated. I was too afraid. It was a huge change, a huge juncture in my tango life, where I first fully accepted my queerness within myself, and I started to also accept the way that I move. Before, I was very self-conscious about not being able to conform to a certain style. I felt like it wasn't really dancing tango, because people didn't recognize that oh, this is a salon style, this is a milonguero style. I wasn't overly preoccupied, but I was self-conscious about it. But then when I started accepting my queerness as part of my—or including that, and just allowing all of that to co-exist in the dance, suddenly I was like, all right, this is the way I dance. The very dramatic gestures that you see at the end of a dance, or certain parts of the dance where the male dancer is doing very typical tango poses—I started to use them more. For me, it's fun to see how I can adopt it, not to replicate the gender dynamic, but to queer it up [laughs]."

— Phi Lee

"NW: Have you felt differently about yourself since you started to dance tango?

PL: Oh, yes. I used to be a lot more introverted, very reserved. I've gained a lot of self-confidence. I've gained a lot of insight into myself and especially my queer identity and sexuality. It's still a process in undoing my perception of it because of where I grew up and how I was raised. There's so much—the roots are deep and not visible, but it comes up at times. You realize how—I realize I'm experiencing the branches of it. It goes so deep that there are moments where it comes up and I think tango has allowed me to go through this process exploring that."

— Phi Lee

"NW: Has tango impacted how you think about community?

PL: I think it has expanded my sense of what it means to participate, to be a part of a community.

NW: In what sense has it expanded your idea of participation?

PL: I think for me, participation always took on a more active form of like, okay, I have to be contributing in some ways, whereas now I think the mere presence of a person—and the acceptance of everyone is who they are and how they participate, whether it's in a very quiet, non-participatory way, but just being present is participation. I think tango is a social space where you can be not social."

— Phi Lee

"NW: How did you start dancing tango?

I started learning tango in 2014. I got interested in tango when I visited a queer tango Milonga in Buenos Aires in 2012 but I was living in the countryside, so I didn't actually start then, but I knew I wanted to learn queer tango. When I moved back to New York in 2014 I registered for my first tango class.

NW: Was that your first exposure to tango?

PL: No, that was my first exposure to queer tango. My first exposure to tango was back in 2010 in straight milongas. I wasn't really interested at the time because it fit the stereotype of the red dress, etc—the roles were still very gendered. I don't remember seeing any same gender dancing, and I don't remember seeing any switch of roles. So it didn't interest me at the time at all. I just thought it was cool.

NW: But then you went to the one in Buenos Aires in 2012.

PL: Yep. And I saw Mariana Docampo, who's the host, and Soledad Nani switching roles on the dance floor. That was when I became interested—the moment I saw the switch I knew I wanted to do that. Also it was a lot more intimate. It wasn't a lot of leg kicks and very stagey tango. I like that intimacy that I witnessed.

Back in 2012 I said I was going to learn tango the moment I moved to a city and I did. It was there in my head the whole time. The moment I moved back, I went online and looked for queer tango."

— Phi Lee

"NW: Why do you continue to dance?

PL: It's changed over time. In the very beginning, it was partly a distraction, a little bit of an escape from the realities and the hardship of New York life, but the most significant experience for me was how it broke down my barrier with the male gender. I always had difficulty relating to men, cis men, not of any bad experience, but just—they felt like a completely different species to me and dancing tango, that intimacy somehow crumbled this wall that I had, and I was able to feel the humanity of that person I was dancing with and be able to experience and see the person for who they are, and not assign assumptions about them based on their gender. Gradually I also discovered that it's almost like a spiritual practice at times where you get to discover—if you are open to it, and if you ask the questions—a lot about yourself. You can find a lot of parallels and metaphors of how you are in the dance, and you can take that and relate it to every aspect of how you are in life. Later on, for me, it was also a really interesting way to navigate some trauma and recognize what is safe touch and what is not."

— Phi Lee

"NW: What does it feel like to dance tango?

PL: It always feels like a meditation and a journey into everything that you hate about yourself [laughs]. No, I mean it can illuminate a lot of what is present for you at the moment, whether it's being able to be present with the other person or feeling disconnected from the body, and then it's like you don't know how to dance, or feeling protective of yourself…All this becomes more apparent, because when you're moving with the other person, you have…Why is it that today I move a certain way with today and tomorrow I move a certain way? Because there are all these experiences and emotions and feelings that are present that affect the way we are."

— Phi Lee

"NW: Why do you organize queer tango events?

PL: I went through two phases of organizing queer tango. The first was with Tim. And for me, we were doing that because I realized there were more gay men who just didn't feel comfortable dancing at the straight milongas. That was 10 years ago, but the moment that made me want to come back to organizing queer tango was going to Europe and the Paris or Valencia queer tango festival, probably. I was going to all these queer tango festivals in Europe, one after another, and it's hard to say one particular experience. It was a period of experiences, because I got to compare the different queer tango events that I went to, and I realized there are certain similarities and there's certain differences. And that helped me to define the kind of queer tango event I wanted to create.

NW: What would you say is the kind of queer tango event that you want to create?

PL: I would say the grand idea is that it can be a transformative experience…Hope!

NW: Hope. That's what you want for your events?

PL: Yeah. For people to walk away feeling charged with hope."

— Phi Lee

"NW: Does tango have something particular to offer queer people?

PL: First of all, it really connects people on a very fundamental, human level. It's hard because it can backfire very easily, you know? You can either have a very transformative experience or you can have a very traumatic experience. It's that very, very fine line, but I do feel that it can be a very, very transformative experience in how we perceive ourselves and how we can empower and accept ourselves in a very deep way and with deep meaning. There's all this..it's nuanced, who we are as humans. We are contradictory. So tango allows that contact with another human being that can bring up a lot of questions about 'I thought this is the way I felt, this is the way I think about myself. This is my identity. But yet…' This experience with this person can bring up some contrasting experiences and ideas, and I think that always, it expands the way we perceive our identity."

— Phi Lee

"There are many people that go just for the steps and the whole show part and the longer you stay, the more you start to understand that everything that surrounds tango, which is the part about connecting with people, having a group, belonging, feeling that you have a place to be yourself with your people—that’s what’s most important."

— Leo

"Why I dance tango. I think that for me tango was my sense of belonging. I was always out of the box for everyone. I didn’t fit in with the boys my age, I didn’t fit in with the role that I was expected to play socially. So you always feel like the black sheep because you didn’t fit in any of the categories. Also at the time I was much chubbier and I wore very thick glasses and so my appearance wasn’t very popular in primary or secondary school. Tango gave me a place to be accepted without regard to how I was, how I looked—it didn’t matter and that made me feel good, like okay, I can belong. Because from a very young age I had always felt like I didn’t belong and tango gave me belonging, that feeling that I can be part of something. That’s what makes me keep dancing: being part of."

— Leo

"If I don’t feel represented, often I don’t feel welcome…my comfort exists within variety."

— Leo

"NW: What is the most gratifying part of organizing?

LS: For me it’s seeing how people find their place. There are students that used to come to classes on Saturdays that are now starting to open their own classes, just like it all began for me 20 years back. I started taking classes, later I started to teach classes, and now I’m here. I’m here, and that happened because there was someone who offered me that space. Because of that I’m always grateful to Augusto because he—without knowing it, because he didn’t do it for me, but at the same time he did do it for me [laughs]. La Marshall in its time for me was—-I remember that La Marshall happened on Wednesdays and it ended at 2am. I used to work at 6am on Thursdays, and I didn’t live in the capital, I lived further out. I had to take the bus 2 hours to get home. So I would get home at 4 or 4:30am and at 6am I had to work. But I did it for the feeling of going and being with all those people that were like me and what we danced and shared."

— Leo

"I believe that tango taught me—or dance taught me—how I can relate better…and to read people, because when you dance you feel the energy. So we know that there are people who are more calm, people who are more energetic, etc. and all of this gives you information that helps you to relate to each person. I say that the best way to get to know someone is to dance a tango. Because you have all the information. You know how they listen, how they move, how they react. Much of the information is there. Because you can change everything except your personality. And you dance how you are. So for me that’s what it is—dance taught me how to relate to people."

— Leo

"NW: How has tango affected the way you relate to friends, if it has?

LS: Tango gave me friends, which I didn’t have. When I say that tango gave me a place to belong and a place where I could be myself, it’s about finding people that felt the same way I did at the time. For me, tango gave me friends and taught me to be able to accept. It helped me understand this need to be part of. For me tango taught me what friendship is, what friendship can generate, how you can communicate and everything."

— Leo

"NW: ¿How has tango affected your relationship with yourself?

LS: Tango allowed me to accept myself. I was eight years old and I had a lot of things I kept suppressed. Things like: Why am I like this? Why can’t I like soccer? Why can’t I dress a certain way? Why can’t I act a certain way? Why don’t I speak a certain way? With tango I’m accepted, I can play, I have friends. Tango told me, you’re good as you are. I don’t care about your weight, your glasses, what colors you wear, how you move—you are welcome. Tango let me be."

— Leo

"NW: Does tango have something particular to offer queer people?

LS: Yes, tango gives queer people this not pretending, this being how one is. Queer tango accepts us and embraces us and gives us a place. Whatever our sexual orientation, our race, our class, our education, tango doesn’t discriminate. Tango accepts you, embraces you, and that’s that. You don’t have to pretend in queer tango. In queer tango you are how you are and that’s what’s good about it—that freedom—there aren’t a lot of places where you can just be like that."

— Leo

"I would love…for each new generation to change and put its own spin and color on it, so that queer tango doesn’t disappear or become diminished—so that queer tango spaces don’t close."

— Leo

"So that the festivals don’t disappear. That they change, transform, grow, but that there are more spaces and more possibilities for the queer community to grow and that hopefully one day they can reach the same level as the traditional tango community and are just as strong, just as consistent, everywhere."

— Leo

"NW: How did you start dancing tango?

LS: I started dancing tango in primary school because I had the luck that there was a teacher that was giving children who didn’t like to do sports class the option to replace it with a dance class for Argentinian dances, which were tango and folklore. When the teacher offered that option obviously I took it in order to avoid going to sport class. In Argentina if you are (or are considered to be) of the masculine gender, the only sport option is that they throw you a ball and you play soccer for an hour.

Having been gay for as long as I can remember, I hated soccer. At that time it was very difficult to spend that hour in sport class without feeling…in a space that you didn’t have to be and being mocked and that sort of thing. The type of discrimination that one experiences in Argentina from a very young age: if you don’t play soccer, then you’re gay, and you’re stigmatized. When they added that dance class, obviously it was a place where I could feel comfortable, express myself, and not feel the pressure and reluctance I had always felt about having to take sports class. Thanks to that teacher, not only did I have the opportunity to spend primary school pleasantly enough because I didn’t have to attend sport class, I also found my place where the people I related with accepted me. Additionally, tango ended up being what I chose to make my career."

— Leo

"NW: Why do you continue to dance?

LS: I always tell students when they start their first class that tango is like entering a labyrinth and it’s a path that has only an entrance. It’s a labyrinth because you never exit. It isn’t a labyrinth that’s a burden—you enjoy it. And every step and every change that you make—because tango is never a straight path—it’s always changing. And you have moments where you’re good, moments when you’re bad, lows and highs. Because of this I consider it a labyrinth, because you never know where you’re going to end up. If this moment of your tango is happy, is sad…it’s like life. Tango accompanies you and matures along with you. Sometimes if you’re feeling bad it makes you feel better and sometimes if you’re feeling good it makes you feel worse, but that’s just how it is—that’s what happens. I always find in tango that way of being myself, of dancing. It’s not having to have anyone’s label put on you. When you’re dancing, when you’re performing or dancing socially with someone, it’s like you don’t have anything. It’s entering without any labels, without any prejudgements, nothing. It’s like “look, this is what I am.” and that freedom is something that I love. In fact, I also studied for a career in psychology, but dance was always what I wanted to do, so that’s what I did."

— Leo

"NW: What does it feel like to dance tango?

LS: For me it’s a moment with myself and a disconnection. It’s a way to extract whatever is inside and let it go in the dance. A way to transport and relax myself. It also fluctuates because it changes in each embrace. It depends on who you’re dancing with. There are friends where you don’t see them for ages and suddenly you connect and dance and it brings you those memories from those times when you were with them and what happened in those moments when you used to dance with them…it’s a return. And when you dance with new people it’s like you’re driving a new car and you don’t know how it drives—less or more? You have to be more attentive. Or dancing with the person you always dance with and it’s like coming home—”boom.” I don’t need to think; I move, we move together and everything flows. That’s the magic of tango. It’s always interesting because it changes. It changes in every embrace because what you feel when you dance is one thing, and another thing is what they make you feel, because sometimes you listen to the music and say “ah, this is the tango I want” and “pum!” It changes for you because the other person’s energy makes everything change. That’s when the magic really happens. For better or for worse, but it changes."

— Leo

"NW: Why do you organize queer tango events?

LS:To create that space that I needed and that, if I hadn’t had it, I don’t know what would have happened. Because queer tango gave me that feeling of belonging. Not just tango, but queer tango specifically, because in traditional tango I had to create a persona to be able to go to tango. You had to put on a suit and tie to go to traditional tango spaces and in queer tango I could go dressed as I wished. I can wear whatever I want, I can move however I want, it’s that freedom. It’s like coming home. Coming to the milonga, coming home, it’s the same sensation of peace, of not having to put on an act, not having to be what someone else wants you to be. We understood this need. We knew that there were people who needed to have this space and that’s why we decided to start NY Queer Tango Weekend.

NW: Could you describe one or two moments that encapsulate for you why you organize queer tango?

LS: Once we were talking with various tango organizers and we asked ourselves—why are we organizing? Because by that time you could dance queer tango at regular milongas. So many traditional organizers said ‘why do you organize queer tango if here at my milonga everyone can dance how they want to?’ And I told them “It’s not the same.” That sensation of coming home and feeling at home only happens in queer spaces. You always feel that stare on the back of your neck when you go to a traditional milonga and dance queer tango. As much as you know everything’s fine, it’s never the case that everything is really fine. There’s always someone, some comment, some look, something that makes you feel that thing in your gut, that “unh!"

It has also happened to me in traditional milongas in Argentina, where I went out dancing with a friend, and the organizer approached me and asked me to leave the milonga. When I asked why, they said, "No, we dance traditionally here." So I remember responding, "But I am dancing traditionally, I'm dancing in the line of dance, in a close embrace, I'm not lifting my legs, I'm not doing kicks, my tango is traditional. What part of my tango is not traditional that you don't like?" Then they said, "No, guys, you understand, I'll give you your money back." I didn't want the money. I paid for the entrance, I'm dancing traditionally, I'm going to stay at the milonga dancing. So, even though I felt incredibly uncomfortable, I stayed until it closed.

While I also stayed simply to say, "Here we are, this is who we are, we can coexist in the milonga with everyone without causing any harm," other than what someone might have in their own mind—and we can't do anything about that—well, that's the way it is. So, those kinds of things make me want to organize spaces where that doesn't happen. Because he, as an organizer, perhaps has the right to say who can or cannot be there, but anyway, that's what mostly motivates me to keep creating these spaces."

— Leo

"NW: Does tango have something in particular to offer queer people?

LS: I believe so. Tango, the embrace, tango is everything. Because it’s understanding and really creating space to welcome someone to be close to you. And it’s the embrace and feeling embraced. What the majority of us need is acceptance. It’s saying, “Okay, I had a horrible day” but it doesn’t matter because in that moment your head goes quiet. We embrace and the head goes “poof” and that’s it—the problems of the day, of the week, for those two minutes of dancing tango they’re cured. The embrace in tango is everything, and it’s about working on that. Working on allowing another person to arrive, on opening yourself for another person, on learning to receive, and also if you’re following the act of giving yourself. Making yourself available, knowing how to embrace, knowing how to arrive. It’s…communication for me is essential."

— Leo

"With Lucía [Conde de Ben] what I encountered was.. First, her youth and—fresh take, deconstruction of what a role is and the function of each role. I really valued that she danced both roles, that she took charge of it all and that beyond that, she would always teach you both roles, regardless of your role. She was helping me in my training as a leader and she told me “There are things that you need to learn that are of the follower’s role.” Another concept that I liked a lot and that really opened my mind was that she told me that as a leader, I wanted to control everything that she did as a follower, which is what I had always been taught to do as a leader. So when she told me that it was like seeing tango from a new perspective."

— Mati

"In reality I believe that in the spaces that we create, decisions should be made collectively, not just by the person who is organizing. The way I see it, as the person organizing, I’m the one who sets the date and opens the doors, but after that, everyone there is in charge of generating the space."

— Mati

"I remember the first time a man invited me to dance. I felt very nervous. He invited me to dance in a public space—in a milonga. I had danced with men in classes and such, because I had practiced both roles, but the truth is I felt very nervous and very uncomfortable. So that was an opening to say, well, this thing that we think is all resolved, of: I’m a gay man and whatever, when I have to show myself dancing with a man publicly, it generates discomfort. So I think that tango made me question and soften..that perspective, which I think was tied to how I was perceived by others.

I think queer tango taught me to break with the role and question roles a lot more than I had before. And beyond that, to personally question something that I thought was resolved; being a gay man, I didn’t expect that dancing with a man would make me uncomfortable, and in that moment I realized that it did. So that was an opportunity for me to say, look, there are things to work on here…It was also a catalyst to connect with queer tango because up until that moment, while I practiced both roles, socially I didn’t expose myself to that situation. So I think that tango, through that proposal, invited me to investigate or discover what was happening with my queerness in its totality."

— Mati

"It’s something that happens as you get older, but I do notice greater corporeal consciousness—of noticing what is happening in my body. Also a greater consciousness of how my mood can affect the way I dance or express myself."

— Mati

"I started to relate to people of a very wide variety of ages through tango. Without a doubt that changes you a lot. I think that in Montevideo the variety expands more in age and here it expands more in queerness. These factors have absolutely changed how I socialize, especially in the way of accepting people who are different and sharing space with people who are different, but who share that passion for tango."

— Mati

"Tango has been my connection with the community and with my community. Tango is the father of my community. It has done everything for my concepts and constructs of what a community is and how to make it. So it’s absolutely super important as something that builds community."

— Mati

"NW: How did you start dancing tango?

MD: I started when I was in my second to last year of liceo [high school]. I’m from a small town called Sauce in Canelones [in Uruguay] and there was a cultural center—it doesn’t exist anymore—that started offering tango classes on Saturdays and a friend invited me to go with her and that was the reason I joined and started dancing—because of my friend’s invitation.

NW: Did you have an idea, before this, of dancing tango or another dance form, or was it just the invitation?

MD: No, I had never taken dance classes. I always really enjoyed dancing at social events or alone, but I had never started a learning process of how to dance and on a certain rhythm, but in general every opportunity I had to dance, I danced. It wasn’t foreign to me. I danced other latin rhythms—more so cumbia, reguetón, etc."

— Mati

"NW: Why do you continue to dance?

MD: Well, first because I enjoy dancing a lot—without a doubt. And second, because for me it’s a social space where I know a lot of people and in which I feel that every day I learn a lot. I’m not taking a lot of classes anymore, although it’s not that I believe that I don’t need them. I believe that one can always keep learning. But my learning right now in tango is how to share with the people that generate it and at the same time create new spaces to try and generate something different from what already exists and that adapts more to my possibilities, to my search, and to what people that share interests with me are searching for too.

NW: In what sense?

MD: I feel that the people I connect with the most aren’t the people that are most accepted in traditional spaces. So I feel the need to share with these people and at the same time create spaces where these people and I feel better or more included."

— Mati

"NW: What does it feel like to dance tango?

MD: You feel a lot of things…Sometimes it’s a bit difficult to put in words, but I think that you feel your state of mind, you feel how comfortable you are in the space you’re in, you feel the same, but for the person you’re dancing with, and also you feel an opportunity, like I said earlier, to connect with other people through an unspoken, corporal language."

— Mati

"NW: Why do you organize queer tango events?

MD:First and foremost because those are the spaces where I feel most comfortable. There are many other reasons, but in reality it’s a space where I want to be. So it’s a bit selfish, but at the same time I’m proud.

NW: Could you describe one or two moments that encapsulate for you why you organize queer tango?

MD:There are two things that come to mind. One is recognizing that queer spaces are the spaces where I’m invited to participate as an organizer. The first opportunity I had to dj here in New York was in a queer space. The first opportunity I had to give a class here was in a queer space. So I feel that the queer community is where I belong, so it’s the community that I have—that I have to and that I want to construct and collaborate with. Apart from the fact that it’s where I feel most comfortable.

And then I think a super important moment for me was at Miranda [the práctica] the day after Trump won the elections. While I had always thought of the práctica as something nontraditional in which alternative things could happen, in that moment the need arose to—the people who were there wanted to talk about how they felt and how things had happened. The fact that we could say “Okay, we’re going to stop the music, stop dancing, and we’re going to talk about what we’re feeling” felt unique to me. It seems like that’s something that can only happen in queer spaces."

— Mati

"NW: Does tango have something in particular to offer queer people?

MD: Yes, without a doubt. Being a person that—I don’t really enjoy the search for the perfect word and the perfect way to write things because I feel that there are things that can’t really be put in words and sometimes we overexert ourselves trying to give them an explanation. I believe that when we dance tango what happens is what is felt and…without words. I believe that for me it’s a good way to connect without using words. It seems to me that when we dance, we communicate what we feel, how we are, what we want. It’s a body language that escapes words, that for me in particular surpasses words."

— Mati

"[Tiny Práctica] started when my partner and two very close friends expressed to me their worry or stress at the milongas, of “People don’t ask me to dance much. I don’t feel secure. I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how to navigate the space.”"

— Norma

"NW: What are the greatest obstacles you face as a queer tango organizer?

NL:...I believe every space a queer woman gains, has been fought for and those women’s credibility has almost always rested on having to demonstrate a lot of potential, a lot of consistency, a very high bar for talent, over and over again..."

— Norma

"NW: What makes a good queer tango organizer?

Two things. One: the capacity to work in a team because I believe that no one can organize something without the help of others, right? Even if there’s only one name there or only one person recognized, there’s always a team. Or there’s someone making their life easier or making things easier for them. So, I think that being capable of working in a team and recognizing your team makes for a good queer tango organizer. On the other hand, I think that, keeping in mind that the personal is political, it’s about how you are as well. You can organize wonderful events but if your personality—or if personally you are discriminating or hiding part of the queer community, your event could be the most beautiful and powerful and whatever, but I won’t care about it."

— Norma

"What I feel dancing tango and the experience I have while I dance tango I don’t have in anything else and it’s total happiness, total devotion—it’s very powerful, very very very powerful—in a way that perhaps I can’t explain. And now since I’ve been dancing queer tango, it’s even more so."

— Norma

"NW: How has tango affected your relationship with yourself?

NL: It’s completely therapeutic, renewing, powerful, like they say, “empowering.” I don’t like that word—I’m using it now, but I hate it. I hate the word resilience as well, but tango also makes me resilient. In moments where I’m sad or depressed, dancing tango takes me completely from the most dense, depressive states—it immediately takes me out of those states. It’s a coping mechanism for me as well [laughs]."

— Norma

"Being so close to different bodies gives you a confidence, I think, with people."

— Norma

"NW: Does tango have something in particular to offer queer people?

NL: Yes, so much. The emotions, mind, body, communication, listening, connection, embodiment, belonging. A thousand things to offer."

— Norma

"When I came out of the closet and it was public, my relationship to tango was very different because everything changed. Many people no longer wanted to dance with me and that changed my experience. It limited my experience profoundly. But since dancing within the queer community it’s incredible because it’s given me a confidence, a personal experience that has helped my confidence, my self-esteem, that I can be a queer person and still dance and that people want to dance with me. That has made me feel better about myself…It has solidified my experience in tango a lot. Right now, queerness is what makes tango worth dancing."

— Norma

"NW: What is the most gratifying part of organizing?

NL: Gratifying. I think it’s seeing it grow. It happens in every encounter. It’s like finding your chosen family. Even if you don’t know the people, you know that when you go there, people like you will be there. You’ll enter a place where you belong, even if it’s your first time there. It’s precious. In my case, if someone comes for the first time to Tiny Práctica, I want them to feel like they’ve always belonged. You just arrived, but you’ve always belonged—I think that’s the most beautiful part."

— Norma

"NW: Do you think there are particular elements that distinguish queer tango events from conventional/mainstream tango events?

NL: Yes, I think that the greatest difference is that the majority of people at queer tango events have have had experiences in common: of discrimination, abandonment, rejection, a ton of things. I think that all of us, at some point, have had to confess that we were gay or trans or whatever. Even if we aren’t talking about it, that fact makes these spaces very different and makes the space and the energy and what moves there different.

Also, the fact that we dance freely without established roles, right? That we can play freely and flow between roles makes queer tango unique and different. I think that now many traditional milongas are taking that from our spaces. Now they are seeing what we do and doing it themselves without being gay. They’re including it in their spaces and that’s a contribution from our community.

NW: What aspects do you think conventional spaces are taking?

NL: Changing roles, for example, respecting pronouns—I’ve heard certain organizers using they/them, that sort of thing..to me that was like “wow.” Right? I’ve started to see many women that no longer wear heels, that dance in pants. Or seeing men follow, which they used to do in classes, but not at a milonga. Now they’re following at milongas and it’s great and often you see two heterosexual people dancing in different roles and it’s incredible to see. I think that these are things that we’ve contributed."

— Norma

"NW: How did you start dancing tango?

NL: I started because of the music. I started playing and at some point we performed a montage of modern Latin American music. We played various pieces, among them Piazzolla and from there I became very interested in tango, the history, its cultural impact, and later I became interested in the dance when I saw it. Then it was like “okay, let’s go, let’s do it.” That’s when I started my experience with the dance first and foremost.

NW: You already touched on it a little, but what inspired your first experience with tango as a dance?

NL: I think I was very interested from what I read, from what I understood from the music, from all of the different elements that tango includes. It seemed really interesting to me from an intellectual and musical standpoint and I’ve always loved to dance. So then I also wanted to take this experience to the body more than the mind and the musical interpretation. That was my greatest motivation because I connect a lot from the body."

— Norma

"NW: Why do you continue to dance?

NL: I stopped when I came to New York. I stopped for a long time. I didn’t feel called to continue dancing just at traditional milongas. I think I said “I want to find a queer space.” When I finally found one, I think that’s what called me to dance again. Like, that is the way I want to dance and these are the people I want to dance with. Despite the fact that I still go to traditional or regular milongas and enjoy them a lot, I think that the queer tango scene caught my attention as a way to find my place as a human in tango."

— Norma

"NW: What does it feel like to dance tango?

NL: Total plenitude. Plenitude and…like what someone who can fly would feel. Or, if I want to be vulgar: it’s like an orgasm that lasts for three minutes [laughs]. It also depends on who you’re dancing with, to what song, and everything, but when you get to dance with someone with whom you connect really well it’s like that. And it’s not sexual at all. Or, it could be; if you’re interested in the person you’re dancing with, then it will be a bit more pleasurable. There’s a certain, I’m not sure how to explain it—-spiritually, mentally, corporally. Yeah, I feel something that is orgasmic, volcanic perhaps. It’s incredible."

— Norma

"NW: Why do you organize queer tango events?

NL: It seems to me, and I always try to emphasize this, that sometimes we feel good and more comfortable when we're learning, when we're sharing with people who understand our experience, right? In one way or another, some experience connects us…and sometimes we feel similar things. I think that's it: being with people who understand your experience and knowing that there are people who have more experience in tango, but that this person understands your experience and wants to share it with you. "Come, come, I'll help you. Look, I've already been through that. Come, I'll tell you how it went for me and what might work for you. Or at least I'll share it with you." I think that's very beautiful. I mean, I've received that. I've received it from female leaders who are teaching me right now, and I receive that information completely differently than I receive it from an excellent male teacher or even a heterosexual woman. I think it's very different. That's why I think it's important to add it and always emphasize it."

— Norma

"NW: Could you describe one or two moments that encapsulate for you why you organize queer tango?

NL: In the last Tiny Práctica session we had, there was a moment when, while the teacher was reviewing music, or a video, I don't remember, I just stood there watching how the others were dancing and how they were interacting and practicing. It seemed so romantic and so sweet and so beautiful, and I felt so happy to see it, and I forgot I was in a class; I just stood there like an idiot watching them. I think I said to myself, "This is worth it, right?" There's another beautiful thing: sometimes we're not even dancing, sometimes we're simply talking and sharing, someone wants to say something or someone shares something, and a beautiful conversation unfolds. That's everything to me, not even the dancing itself, but that: being there, talking, just being, and being able to share. That's beautiful."

— Norma

"NW: Does tango have something in particular to offer queer people?

NL: Yes, because it’s absolute conscience of your body and mind but also a vote of responsibility with other beings, and I believe that’s how life is, right? In life you have to be conscious of your mind, your body—of how you walk down the street. You can’t walk down the street hitting and pushing past people; you have to dodge, you have to…right? And in this case you have another person in front of you, regardless of whether you’re following or leading. So it’s an awareness, a self-awareness and an awareness that someone else is there and you have to take care of that person and give them the best possible experience. And that person is also conscious of the fact that I’m here, they’re listening to me, validating me, following me or proposing to me. I believe that if we approach life the way tango works, it will be much more fun and more beautiful."

— Norma