Ramiro Gigliotti's Tango Venom: You, I greet. You too. You I don't.

In the early 2000s, I ran into Ramiro Gigliotti at Salon Canning. I had met him a couple of years earlier when he came to teach in L.A. I loved his dancing, and he was very kind to me. I was already teaching in LA, and I was always looking for ways to get better in Argentine Tango.

Back in Salon Canning, he was at the bar, drinking something (I can’t remember what it was, was it a cortado?), maybe he was wearing a vest. I went to say hi. I told him I was looking for a tango partner (the quest of my entire life), and he recommended me to talk to Javier Rochwarger, who was travelling around the US alone. From that conversation, a long collaboration with Javier started..

I knew Ramiro was a reader and an intellectual of sorts. The kind that I like the most, the one that mixes pop culture in the middle of a philosophical discussion. He had a dry sense of humor, and he would keep me at the distance. 

I avidly read the publications of his anonymous short stories about the milonguero world published at El Tangauta signed by the pseudonym “Rene”. We didn’t know if the writer was a man or a woman because Rene would write from either perspective.

In 2009 the compilation Veneno de Tango (Tango Venom) was published by Tangauta. He directly gave me permission to reproduce little pieces on my blog, and I am so excited to do so here.

Greetings

You, I greet. You too. You I don’t.

That guy I used to greet, but for some time now I haven't been greeting him. That woman I greet and I ask her how’s life. You, sometimes I greet and sometimes I don’t. The guys at the table at the end of the row I greet, but from a distance. With you I shake hands.

The one I would like to start greeting is the short girl in the tiny skirt. Him I greet with a solemn embrace, “San Martin and Belgrano at Yatasto” style. The bald guy I pretend not to see because every time I greet him I get stuck talking to him for half and hour. I wink at the blonde woman. That guy from a distance, because he has BO. You I did not greet because I thought that you were a somewhat bitter woman, but now I see that I was prejudiced. You guys, who work at the bar, I greet like brothers, my pals.

I greet them with a hug, pats and a pinch on the cheek. For you a reluctant kiss because I know that in your country they’re not used to it. You, I greet if there is no choice. You because there is no choice. With her I don’t know what to do, I wonder if she remembers me?

I arrived half an hour ago. I installed myself at the bar-comfortable, at peace- and I greeted some people. (...)

Excerpted from “Tango Venom” by Ramiro Gigliotti. Published by El Tangauta. 2009. Pp 15-16

I love the description of the characters I witnessed myself in the milongas of the late 90. First, the objectified woman, surrounded by ageism (tiny skirt), the predominant male point of view that shows a world where real friendship only occurs among men. The bald guy that refers to the intrinsic loneliness of tango and the desire of being seen and heard at any cost. The BO/bad breath that we all experienced on either side of the game. Come on, don't tell me that you never went dancing after dinner and you couldn’t floss ahead of time. The stereotyped and misconstructed role of the  bitter woman. The foreigner, the other, the outsider, the one who doesn’t know enough. Finally, the bar is presented as the prestigious exclusive prime location of the so needed proficient male dancers.

I am writing this in 2020, and everything sounds very outdated. Right now binary gender distinctions are limiting, and I wonder how we kept them in place for such a long time, especially for those of us who were not being favored by that system. We would do whatever for a couple of tandas with those male dancers. No matter how good we were, it was never enough because we had to wait for them to ask, and we needed to exude some ridiculousness sex appeal that sometimes, didn’t feel true to ourselves. We would die and kill for that tanda, women would travel from all over the world for that tanda. It was very costly, and I am very happy that things are a little different now in the world of tango. I can’t wait to learn a language that is more equalitarian and inclusive than the one I have been observing lately in the world of tango.