How dancing tango helped me deal with rejection

But here’s where rejection comes into play: in the Tango world, not everybody dances with everybody. Typically, you dance with someone for about 15 minutes, take a short break, and then switch partners. Because of this, people really want to ensure they have a great partner. As a beginner, it’s unlikely that you’ll be dancing with the professionals, or at least with people who have been dancing for a long time—unless you’re friends or there’s some other connection.

In some places, there are different cultural influences, but where I began, it was pretty much the norm.

When the music starts, people are asked to dance through eye contact. If someone doesn’t return your eye contact with a nod or a smile, it means they’ve declined to dance with you.

When I first entered this world, I found it horrific that not everyone danced with everyone. I said yes to absolutely anyone who asked, which is ideal when learning. But what I began to realise was that the more experienced dancers, including my friends, or my then boyfriend’s friends, often didn’t want to dance with me because I was a beginner.

Even when we were all sitting at the same table, they would dance among themselves, but I wouldn’t be invited. This was painful AF—I really didn’t understand how I could be sitting and socialising with these men, these friends, and yet be ignored when it came to dancing.

Eventually, I moved to Buenos Aires to study even more Tango, dedicating myself to seven days a week of dancing. This experience amplified everything even more. The ratio of women to men was huge, so I was already at a disadvantage.

Time after time, I faced rejection, even when my friends were dancing all around me. It became part of growing some very thick skin. This pushed me to learn more, cultivate my life around Tango, and work deeply with the concept of rejection.

I had to learn not to take it personally when my friends didn’t want to dance with me or when they chose someone else. Even now, after all these years, it can still feel a bit painful, but I’ve built a muscle to handle it better—and it’s a much rarer occurrence.

But here’s the thing: when we point the finger or feel like a victim, it’s important to consider how we might also be rejecting others. My shadow work teacher put it, "one finger pointing outwards has three pointing right back at you." As the years went on, I too became selective about who I danced with, especially as I advanced.

If I didn’t have a personal relationship or reason, I wasn’t looking to dance with men who were beginners. It’s not personal—it’s just that sometimes I want to rest or have a good conversation, and with each set of dances, I too wanted to express myself fully and choose who to dance with so I could dance well.

So, rejection doesn’t have to be personal, and accepting it with grace is a beautiful mission in life.

Also, I learned so deeply, giving rejection can always be done with politeness and a smile.

What I can say is that what we resist persists, right? I spent a lot of my life trying to resist rejection. Now, when I find myself doing this, I just allow it—I allow myself to feel rejected and respond with as much grace as I can. And yes, this can also be a work in progress. :)

(Or at least try!)

Here are some practical steps that Tango—and life—have taught me about handling rejection:

Rejection is part of the dance of life. Whether it’s in relationships, careers, or even hobbies like Tango, we all face it. The key is learning to move through it with grace, using it as fuel for growth rather than a reason to shrink back.

So, what small step can you take today to face rejection with grace?

Reach out to me on Instagram or Pinterest and share how you’re working through rejection in your own life. Let’s keep growing together.