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“Rosalind knew she was right, knew there was something even deeper that prevented her from going back. Since she began something had always bothered her about tango: she still had no idea how people knew what the hell they were doing. The dance had no agreed upon formula, no designated rules, just collectively shared sequences that a leader could use interchangeably. It was a conversation, not a speech. This was what was so allegedly wonderful about it: it was an improvisation, a negotiation between two people. No choreography, no predetermined pattern, just endless unpredictable new formations. One couldn't dominate the other. It was--if not historically, at least ideally--a dance of equals. This struck her a lovely in principle and crazy-making in practice. How do you know what to do? "The man will lead you," her teachers told her. What if his lead doesn't make sense? "It will. Practice," Mariela had instructed brightly, unhelpfully.” — Jennifer Vandever