It Was Just a Dance: The Paradox of Connection in Partner Dancing
- Rafael Piccolotto de Lima
- 19 hours ago
- 4 min read
A Phrase That Stayed With Me
Over the years, I occasionally came across an interesting expression in social media discussions and conversations within the forró community:
“It was just a xote.”
In other words: it was just a dance. Don’t read anything more into it.
It’s not a particularly common phrase. In fact, I’ve only heard it a handful of times. Yet it stayed with me because it seemed to capture something interesting about the way many people experience dance.
The choice of the word is not accidental.
For readers unfamiliar with forró, xote is one of the main rhythmic styles found within the music and dance tradition. The term refers to a specific rhythm, but within dance communities it often carries additional associations as well.
Although not every xote fits the same mold, it is commonly associated with slower tempos, a closer embrace, and a more relaxed atmosphere on the dance floor. Musically, xotes are often explored in ways that emphasize lyricism, emotional expression, and, in some cases, romantic themes.
As a result, many dancers associate xote not only with a particular rhythm, but with a particular kind of experience.
It is often the moment of the closest embrace, the most intimate conversations through movement, and some of the most emotionally expressive songs of the evening. Many bands even joke before playing a xote, suggesting that this is the moment to find someone to dance close to, or perhaps even steal a kiss.
But the phrase never seemed to be truly about xote itself. Xote simply serves as a symbol.
The same idea could apply to other partner dances, other musical traditions, and other communities. What the phrase is really trying to communicate is something broader:
What happened during the dance belonged to the dance.
Don’t automatically turn it into something else.
What Does “It Was Just a Xote” Actually Mean?
The expression usually appears when someone feels the need to explain that a close, connected, or particularly meaningful dance should not automatically be interpreted as a sign of romantic interest.
What has always fascinated me is that the existence of this explanation already reveals an interesting tension.
After all, it only becomes necessary because two people can experience the exact same dance and interpret it in completely different ways.
Different People, Different Interpretations
Over the years, I also realized that there is no universal agreement within the community about how to interpret this space.
I remember an evening in São Paulo when I spent much of the night dancing with a friend. We danced multiple rhythms throughout the evening without giving it much thought. But when a xote started, she casually mentioned that she didn’t particularly enjoy dancing xote.
At the time, I found the comment interesting but didn’t ask any further questions. Later on, I returned to the subject and asked why.
She explained that she disliked the kinds of dynamics that xote sometimes encourages: greater physical closeness, expectations of a more emotionally connected interaction, or the possibility that someone might interpret the dance in ways she never intended.
Her answer stood out to me because I had heard many people express exactly the opposite view.
I’ve heard dancers say that xote is their favorite part of the night precisely because they enjoy a closer, more affectionate style of dancing. I’ve also seen discussions online criticizing dancers who spend a xote doing too many turns and figures.
Those conversations are often accompanied by the argument that xote calls for something different: fewer patterns, fewer spins, and more attention to the embrace and the music itself.
What fascinates me is that both perspectives emerge from the exact same characteristic of the dance.
The very thing that makes some people avoid xote is also what makes other people love it.
Comfortable in Dance, Cautious in Life
There is another observation that has stayed with me over the years.
After more than two decades participating in partner dance communities, I have met many people who seem deeply connected while dancing. They are present, attentive, sensitive, and fully engaged in the moment. Many of them are also highly involved in the community. They volunteer at events, help newcomers, organize activities, and seem socially connected to everyone around them.
Yet that same openness does not always appear in their romantic lives.
In some cases, the impression is that they are more comfortable experiencing intimacy within dance than outside of it.
I’ve always found that curious.
After all, we’re talking about people who appear completely at ease sharing attention, presence, sensitivity, and physical closeness with another person during a song, yet often seem reluctant to pursue those same experiences when they begin pointing toward an actual relationship.
That observation strikes me as just as interesting as the phrase “it was just a xote.”
The Same Dance, Different Experiences
Perhaps that is why the expression stayed with me all these years.
Not because of xote itself.
And not because of the phrase.
But because it gives a name to something I have encountered countless times without quite knowing how to describe it.
The possibility that two people can live through the exact same dance and, when the music ends, discover that they were experiencing completely different things.
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Sobre o autor
Rafael Piccolotto de Lima é o Fundador e Diretor Educacional do Forró New York, além de compositor, arranjador e diretor musical indicado ao Latin Grammy.
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