[Photo Credit: Sora]

💡 You’ve heard the story: tango was born in Buenos Aires brothels. This week, we dig into why that myth stuck — and what the real origin reveals about culture, class, and connection.

Ask someone where tango began, and they’ll likely say: “In the brothels of Buenos Aires.”
But while brothels were part of tango’s early environment, they weren’t the birthplace of the dance — not even close. The truth is far more layered, and much more human.

🎵 The Afro-Argentine Foundation

Before tango was tango, there was candombe — a music and dance tradition brought by enslaved Africans and their descendants. In the 1800s, Buenos Aires had a significant Afro-Argentine population, and candombe was a core part of urban festivals, parades, and neighborhood gatherings.

These communities developed communal, rhythmic, body-led dances using drums and percussion, with emphasis on improvisation, call-and-response, and expressive movement. These stylistic roots carried over into early tango — not just rhythmically, but in tango's culture of musicality, mutual listening, and physical dialogue.

But as Argentina pursued a “white European” national identity and promoted mass immigration in the late 19th century, Afro-Argentine contributions were systematically erased from public life, including tango history. That erasure doesn’t change the fact: without Afro-Argentine influence, tango would not exist.

⚖️ Why Were So Many Men Dancing With Each Other?

Between 1880 and 1910, Argentina welcomed millions of immigrants, primarily from Italy and Spain. These immigrants were mostly young men, seeking work in agriculture, ports, and factories — with dreams of sending money home or returning once successful.

The result: neighborhoods in Buenos Aires with 4 or 5 men for every woman. Social life in these male-dominated environments was limited — especially if you wanted to dance.

In this overwhelmingly male context, men began to dance with each other — not as a romantic act, but as practice and social training. If you wanted to impress a woman at a public dance, you had to know how to lead well — and that meant practicing with other men.

Now, in both Italian and Spanish traditions, there was a precedent for men dancing together:

• In Spain, dances like flamenco or sevillanas were sometimes practiced or performed in all-male groups.

• In Italy, especially among lower classes, folk dances and festive street performances often included same-gender participation.

So while it wasn’t necessarily commonplace for men to pair off socially in a romantic dance, the idea of men practicing dance movements together — especially in a competitive or performative context — wasn’t entirely alien.

But in Buenos Aires, it became a social necessity. If you wanted to dance with a woman at a public gathering (a milonga or baile), you had to be good — and the only way to improve was to practice. So men danced with each other to develop skill, master lead-follow technique, and gain musical sensitivity.

It wasn’t about performance or flirtation — it was about training, often done in courtyards, street corners, or cheap cafés. Think of it like sparring in boxing or practicing drills in soccer: it was serious, often silent, and full of unspoken rules.

💃 What Happened When More Women Entered the Scene?

As female immigration increased, and tango began to climb the social ladder from the streets to cafés and dance salons, a new dynamic emerged — one governed by propriety, performance, and social codes.

Enter the chaperoned dance hall.

In middle- and upper-class Argentine society, women were expected to be modest, guarded, and accompanied. Social dances were held in structured settings where:

• Women sat along one side of the room, escorted by family or companions.

• Men sat across or circulated.

• Dances were offered through the cabeceo — a subtle nod or glance — to preserve dignity and avoid public rejection.

• Rules of etiquette were created to manage contact, closeness, and social reputation.

The energy shifted: from male training to heterosexual courtship, from improvisational street dancing to codified social ritual. Tango began to take on more sensual, stylized characteristics, influenced by changing gender dynamics and the growing presence of women in the dance scene.

Yet the DNA of tango — its improvisation, its intense listening, and its quiet tension on dusty courtyards and café floors — still carries traces of those early male-male training sessions in the margins of Buenos Aires.

🏠 And the Brothels?

In late 19th-century Buenos Aires, brothels were part of the broader entertainment economy in working-class neighborhoods — along with bars, gambling halls, and informal dance venues. These spaces, sometimes called casas de tolerancia, catered to a male-heavy immigrant population looking for relief, intimacy, and escape.

And yes — tango was danced in brothels.

But in those settings, it served a functional and atmospheric role:

• It was used to set a mood or create allure between sex workers and their clients.

• Musicians played tango to entertain guests waiting their turn.

• Dancers sometimes performed to draw in customers or keep them engaged longer.

However, these brothel performances were not where tango was invented, nor were they the main site for its development as a social partner dance.

Most serious dancers and musicians honed their skills elsewhere — in the conventillos (shared tenement housing), street corners, and later in dance halls and cafés cantantes. These spaces were full of experimentation, improvisation, and male-male practice — the real crucibles of tango’s formation.

So why does the myth persist?

💄 The Appeal of the Brothel Narrative

When tango began to spread to Europe in the early 20th century — especially to Paris — it carried with it an exotic and risqué reputation. Tango promoters, writers, and even some musicians leaned into this image to market tango as sensual, dangerous, and foreign.

A dance born in brothels? It was scandalous — and scandal sells.

🎙️ Whether tango is inherently sensual or just something we project onto it is a question that sparks plenty of debate. We shared our thoughts in this episode — but we’d love to hear yours too. Watch or listen here →

It worked — but it also distorted the truth. Tango may have passed through the brothel, but it wasn’t born there.

Tango was born in improvisation.

In resilience.

In rhythm.

And in the embrace — between immigrants, outsiders, and eventually, everyone else.

Tags: Tango Nugget, Tango History, Afro-Argentine Influence, Tango Origins, Gender in Tango, Immigration and Tango, Tango Myths, Buenos Aires Culture, Early Tango, Candombe, Tango and Identity

Written by Amanda Garley, co-founder of Vienna Tango School.

Learn more about our mission →