When a misstep occurs in Argentine tango (and, I imagine, in other social dances), regardless of how it occurs, it's become commonplace for the man to take responsibility by saying "it's always the leader's fault." Even though I understand that leaders have only the most gracious and gentlemanly intentions when they say this, every time a man says this to me while we're dancing, I can feel the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.
As a follower, I have spent six years searching for the place on my partner's back that will produce the greatest amount of mutual comfort and communication when I rest my hand there. Searching for the place on the floor that matches the size of the step he's proposing, and the part of my foot that will create stability for me and transparency for him when I move onto it. For the position of my spine that will allow me to remain present and alive to his intentions without burdening him with the weight of my upper body. For a way to salute my favorite moment in that magical tango by Canaro when the bandoneón says this and the piano answers that - but without derailing the intentions of my partner - and for the stillness of mind that awakens me to the spontaneous possibility of each moment, never presuming to know what my partner will ask of me, but trusting that it will move me through and through.
Six years in, I am still searching. And if you think nothing ever goes wrong with that endeavor, you're crazy.
If the message a leader sends is murky, lacks confidence, or contradicts itself, then certainly he's at fault: if you don't lead it, I can't follow it. Leaders are also responsible for gauging the level of skill of their partners. If you take a follower into territory that she obviously lacks the skill level to navigate, then you are to blame when she doesn't respond as you had hoped. But to say that "it's always the leader's fault" is to undermine the importance and sophistication of the follower's task.
I know you don't mean to, but when you say "it's always the leader's fault", you underestimate my potential to detract from the dance - and, by extension, my potential to add to it. In essence you're implying that what I do doesn't matter, which renders me irrelevant, just a hapless, passive vessel for your intentions rather than a co-creator of our shared experience on the dance floor.
Moreover, it's disingenuous. We've all led the Compulsive Ocho-er, the Great Anticipator, and the follower who is so much the master of her fate, the captain of her soul, that - try as we might - we cannot settle her down into the state of interdependence that the dance thrives on. Surely at some point, it's reasonable to expect her to assume some responsibility. As we say in the States, "it takes two to tango". Convincing ourselves that it's always the leader's fault has the potential to breed lazy, entitled followers, and who wants to dance with one of those?
At the risk of reading too much into this whole thing, I think it stems from the relative value that society assigns to speaking and listening. We tend to associate action and subjecthood with the act of speaking or sending a message; inaction and objecthood to the act of listening or receiving a message. In fact, in life just as in tango, the art of active listening is extraordinarily challenging. It's a skill that tango followers must master early on, and in my experience the best leaders are the ones who cultivate it as well.
So, leaders, the next time you feel tempted to take responsibility for a follower's error, instead take her at her word that she did something she wishes she had danced differently. Engage her as an equal partner with strengths, aspirations and vulnerabilities worthy of your respect and recognition. You'll both be the better for it.
