Partner dances generally require two distinct roles: leaders and followers. Traditionally, men learn how to lead, and women learn how to follow. Most new dancers learn roles according to tradition. So did I when I first got into Salsa and Bachata dancing. At the time, it was the obvious choice. It made my inner feminist a little uneasy, though. In the time that I’ve spent in the social dance community, I’ve discovered that there are many traditionalists who definitely want to stick with the traditional gender roles in partner dance.
I also discovered that, on the other hand, there are many open-minded, progressive people who believe that dance is for everyone and a role is just a role, not a gender identity. People should dance with the same as well as the opposite gender (and obviously non-gender-conforming people as well) while being able to pick any role they want. They can even switch roles in the middle of the dance through stealing or giving moves, a concept known as role rotation. I found two really cool teachers, both women, who teach role rotation, and even when they don’t rotate, they do their best to avoid normalization of traditional gender roles. I’ve started Bachata role rotation classes, which also means I started learning how to follow. It’s a lot to learn, and I’m still very much a beginner at it, but seeing Bachata from both sides has given me a much better insight into the dance rather than just learning one half of it. I can definitely recommend it. This text is written for people of all genders who have started dancing the traditional role and want to learn the other role, but especially men who wish to learn how to follow and hesitate for some reason.
In practice, at Salsa and Bachata socials, I’ve observed that the vast majority of dancers are in hetero couples that stick to the traditional roles. The second most common dance couple is two women, where obviously one of them is leading or they’re rotating. It’s a much rarer sight to see two men dancing with each other or a woman leading a man. I’ve also had the impression that Salsa is more traditional, whereas you see more women leading in Bachata, but that may be an attribute of my local scene (which includes people like the teachers I mentioned before) and not a global phenomenon.
Women leaders are more common than men followers. My theory is that many women don’t start leading because of some abstract idea that they want to understand the dance from both sides. They go to social events with their female friends and then want to dance with those friends as well, and not just with men they meet at the party. It is something that rarely happens with men. Partner dance isn’t sexual, but it is an activity that involves closeness, emotional connection, and physical touch in a soft and sensual manner. Men tend to avoid such activities among them due to some fear that it is gay and not manly. In theory, I’d say that such sentiments are problematic; they hold men back and might contribute to male loneliness, but I have to admit that, even with this assessment, I must acknowledge they are real, and I have observed them within myself. As a side note: ironically, these sentiments appear to be negatively correlated with homophobia in society. The more a society accepts homosexuality, the more straight men need to demonstrate they’re straight. Women may have some form of this as well, but from everything I’ve heard, read, and observed, women feel much closer to their same-gender friends, both physically and emotionally.
The idea that men lead and women follow isn’t a random assignment because the inventors of dancing had to pick one and threw a coin. It reflects how many people think about masculinity and femininity, where masculinity is considered active and dominant and femininity is considered passive and submissive. You will see people talking about masculine and feminine energy. And we’re seeing another difference between men and women: society is much more open to women taking on men’s roles than it is to men taking on what was traditionally a woman’s role. Feminism and the women’s movements that fought hard (and still fight) to end the discrimination of women established the idea that women are just as capable as men. The masculine is often seen as higher status than the feminine. A woman acting like a man is elevating herself, whereas a man acting like a woman is degrading himself. This should explain, at least partly, why we see more women lead in partner dances than men follow.
I haven’t grappled too hard with the idea that I shouldn’t follow because I’m a man. However, I have been worried that I’m subconsciously interested in an easier option to participate in the dance or that I’m trying to learn following to make up for a lack of leading skills. If you have similar thoughts, I think it’s important to clarify that following isn’t necessarily easier than leading. Yes, leading and following have different learning curves, and, especially in the beginning, you need to practice more before you can enjoy leading a dance. But as a follower, you are co-creating the dance as well, and that’s a skill you need to learn and practice. You don’t want the leader dragging you around without you understanding what happens; you want to be able to understand cues early so you can help build the flow that makes the dance smooth and enjoyable. Also, just because you intend to learn how to follow, you still want to become a better leader, right? And guess what? Following helps you understand good leading, and dancing with a good leader will give you a motivation boost to match their skills. So if nothing else, consider becoming a follower just for that; think of it as a training ground. And if you’re a follower already, learning to lead helps you better understand the difficulties that leaders might have.
If you are eager to learn the non-traditional role, you have to get comfortable dancing with people of the same gender. As I’ve mentioned before, this is probably harder for men. However, it’s not too bad; you get used to it. Dancing with random women in a class—standing in close embrace with a stranger you’ve just met—took some time to get used to as well (which is something I want to write about some other time). I think the hardest part for me wasn’t being uncomfortable dancing with another man; it was noticing a man being visibly uncomfortable dancing with me, probably because I’m a man. Once, a class partner made a joke in which he asked me to confirm my gender identity to him. This, however, has only made me realize how important it is that we normalize two (straight) men dancing with each other. It also shows that it’s essential that the teachers and the overall community are supportive of dancers in non-traditional roles and encourage you, whatever role you pick, so that people know their choice is accepted.
I think it’s also valid to say that, as a man, even though you are comfortable dancing with another man, you prefer to dance with women. I admit it as well. In role rotation classes, the participants are often dancers who are already experienced in one role and want to improve their weaker role. While you may also dance with men in those classes—the point being able to dance with everyone regardless of gender—you will have more partners who are women. At parties and social events, you can ask whoever you want to dance, so you can also exclusively ask women for dances. Although, as I’ve said earlier, it would be good to at least occasionally dance with men just to normalize it. The numbers are in your favor, as there are more women leaders. And, also based on my earlier observations, women who know how to lead mostly use their skills on their female friends. Most men who ask them to dance are defaulting to the traditional roles. If you, as a man, ask a woman to dance but tell her you’d like to be the follower, you’ll be met with surprise, but in a good way. In my experience, many women enjoy an opportunity to lead a man. I’ve only had positive feedback from women. Also, I’d always recommend remaining an active dancer in both roles so you don’t limit your options at social events.
If you know me, you know that I’m a person who tends to avoid stereotypical descriptions and using gender as an explanation as much as possible. Dancing, however, has shown me that many stereotypes are true to at least some extent. Besides the ones I already mentioned, I want to share another: in my experience, many women tend to underestimate and undersell their skills. They’ll tell you they’re a beginner and then lead flawlessly. Some men, on the other hand, tend to overestimate themselves, and they will also mansplain the dance moves to you while not getting them right either.
Here’s another, final thought. Partner dances require physical touch and proximity, but there’s a sliding scale of closeness between partners, depending on what you’re comfortable with. Both partners can influence it, but the leader has more control over it, as they pick their moves. For women, having this control as a leader can be an advantage. For men, especially those who tend to worry about accidentally crossing boundaries, following a woman and, hence, giving her control, is a discreet way of finding out the level of closeness she’s comfortable with you without asking directly. Your results may vary, but I’ve been surprised, because I’ve had the most physically close dances when a woman has been leading me. It’s not what I expected, but it was another positive experience.
To close, I hope you found my writing useful, and you’re now motivated to try out a new role as a social dancer. I’ll see you on the dance floor.