Anahí Viladrichand behind a young-looking blond tango amateur (whom I baptized
the “Little Prince”) I found, and protected, an undocumented teen-
ager who was working as an apprentice in the tough construction
world of Queens.
Today I returned to Milonga X after a while of being away from
this world, so close and estranged to me. To them (my tango pals)
I am a confidante, an ally, a witness to their attempts to succeed,
an equal. But we are different, of course. I am the anthropologist,
as everybody is proud of introducing me, as if I bring a token
of academia into the tango floor. Fortunately, I have been careful
enough to build up my reputation as someone who keeps people’s
information confidential. I ask about their lives; I listen; I guide
them through their own dilemmas and experiences. Above all, I
am another Argentine they can relate to and trust. (Tango notes,
November 30, 2001)
Like the lone lemonade maker under the hot desert sun, I secretly
profited from the emotional needs of my tango friends. I took advan-
tage of their eagerness to be listened to and taken care of, while serv-
ing as the emotional reservoir of their unsolved troubled lives. After
all, almost everybody at the milonga is there to dance, to be seen, to
show off, to grip the stage and make the world a dance floor for their
own fancy square of rehearsed steps. There I was a patient voyeur,
waiting for my captive informants to return to their seats, hoping to
turn their confusing storytelling into logically framed life narratives.
After many years of being involved with ethnographic studies, more
than learning how to improve my research skills, I have learned the
craft of listening (something that clinical psychologists take for granted)
and the techniques of indirect questioning. No matter how difficult
or embarrassing a topic might be, people will openly talk about any
delicate issues, following a syncopated structure (a spontaneous plot
that follows a logic) of life events (see Denzin 1989 , 1999 ), as long as
they feel comfortable and safe. I have often sat and stood in the hazy
corners of the tango salon, indiscernible and visible at the same time,
mysterious and familiar, needed and ignored, subject to the contra-
dictory roles that have become my unique tango persona.