The Type of Life I Found Through Forró
Updated: 3 days ago
Imagine having a place to go where you can arrive alone, hear music that makes you want to move, and spend an evening with people you might never have met otherwise.
You can dance, sit and talk, greet someone you recognize, or invite someone you have just noticed to share a song. There is room to be playful, to try something, to laugh when it does not quite work.
Over time, some of those people become part of your life.
That is what I found through forró.
When I first started dancing, I could not have imagined how much would grow around it. Twenty years later, I am still discovering what an evening can bring.
Some memories help explain why - and why I enjoy inviting other people into this world.
An Invitation at Canto da Ema
Recently, after performing a concert in São Paulo, I went to Canto da Ema, one of the city’s most traditional forró venues.
The room was already full. The band was playing, people were dancing everywhere, and the evening was pleasant enough, but nothing particularly memorable had happened yet.
Then a young woman appeared in front of me and invited me to dance.
I had not noticed her before. She looked sexy without seeming to try. Relaxed. Smiling. Comfortable in her own skin.
We began dancing.
The embrace felt comfortable almost immediately. Our bodies adapted naturally to each other, and the movements seemed to flow with very little effort. Every change of direction felt understood. Every musical idea seemed to find an answer.
We danced one song, then another, then another.
There is a particular pleasure in that kind of connection. You are listening to the same music, but each of you brings something different to it. A small movement becomes an invitation. The other person responds, and suddenly you are discovering something together.
There is room for improvisation, surprise, and play. You do not need to decide everything in advance.
At some point, I realized it was probably the best dance I had experienced in weeks. I wanted to ask, “Can we please dance again before the night is over?”
By the end of the evening, I remember thinking:
Meeting this person made the night worthwhile.
After all these years, an invitation from someone I had not even noticed could still change my evening.
Arriving Somewhere You Know Nobody
I found another version of that possibility while traveling in Europe.
I arrived in cities where I knew nobody and went to forró festivals without knowing who I would meet. Around me were people from different countries, speaking different languages, many of whom seemed interesting before we had even exchanged a word.
A dance gave us somewhere to begin.
Over the course of those festivals, I made numerous friends. People who had been strangers became familiar faces I could look for in the room.
One night, I shared a particularly intimate experience with someone on the dance floor. There was a closeness in the way we danced, a feeling that grew through the music and the embrace.
After the party had ended, we kissed.
I had arrived without knowing anyone. By the end of that night, I had shared something I could never have planned.
That is part of what I enjoy about traveling through this world. You can be far from home and still have a way to approach people, spend time together, and discover whether there is a connection.
Sometimes it becomes a friendship. Sometimes there is attraction. Sometimes you simply share a beautiful dance and go your separate ways.
You find out by being there.
Who You Are When You Dance
Some of the people I have met through forró come from lives very different from mine.
We have different professions, different backgrounds, and different circumstances. Yet we find ourselves enjoying the same music and wanting to spend time together.
Those differences do not disappear. They often become less important while we are sharing an evening.
For a few songs, neither person needs to be particularly impressed by what the other does outside the room. You can discover someone through their attention, their sense of humor, or the care they bring to an embrace.
I enjoy that freedom.
There is room to be creative without having to produce anything. To play with a musical phrase, try a movement, improvise a response, or laugh together when something goes differently than expected.
Some dances are wonderful. Others are awkward. Sometimes we laugh more than we dance.
Touch and affection can become part of getting to know someone, at a pace that feels comfortable to both people. An invitation creates an opportunity; what you share grows from how you respond to each other.
Occasionally, that response continues to matter long after the evening ends.
Two Years Between Dances
In 2021, I met someone through forró.
We danced once. She was still relatively new to dancing, and although I enjoyed meeting her, we did not exchange numbers or stay in touch.
For the next two years, she disappeared completely from my life.
Then, in 2023, by pure coincidence, we found ourselves at the same dance event.
The moment we recognized each other, both of us were visibly surprised. By then, she had spent a good amount of time immersed in a dance community and had become a much more experienced dancer.
I immediately invited her to dance.
As we danced, I could feel her heart racing through the embrace.
Later that evening, she told me that after our first meeting, she had made a promise to herself.
One day, she would meet me again.
And when that day came, she would be a much better dancer.
I had no idea that our first encounter had meant that much to her. For two years, life had moved on, yet neither of us had completely forgotten.
That reunion became the beginning of our relationship.
When I think about our first dance now, I think about how little we knew. We shared a song and went our separate ways. Neither of us could have known what that brief encounter would eventually mean.
The Pleasure of Being Expected
Other connections grew through seeing the same people again and again.
I began discovering that early in my journey with forró.
One evening, I arrived late to a party. As soon as I walked in, a friend came rushing toward me, asking where I had been and complaining that she had been waiting to dance with me.
Before I could answer, another friend appeared and jokingly announced that the first dance of the night belonged to her.
Neither of them was entirely serious.
Both of them were completely serious.
I do not remember which of them I danced with first. What stayed with me was realizing that they had noticed I was missing.
They were happy to see me.
They had been waiting.
That feeling had grown through evenings that, individually, might not have seemed remarkable. Another dance, another conversation, another chance to spend time together.
Gradually, we had become part of one another’s lives.
Long before the more recent encounters I have described here, I was already discovering the pleasure of having somewhere to go where my presence mattered.
A Place in Your Life
Over the years, I watched other people find their way into these communities.
People arrived without knowing anyone and, a few months later, had friends to greet when they walked in. In New York, people who had recently moved to the city began building social lives through a dance class.
I recognized something of my own experience in theirs.
That is part of what I hope to make possible when we bring people together to dance.
I want the music and the dancing to be worth coming for. I also want there to be room for conversation, curiosity, and the small moments through which people begin to feel comfortable with one another.
You might come because you want to learn forró. You might want an evening out, a chance to meet people, or something enjoyable to do with your body after a long week.
You do not need to know what it will become.
I certainly did not.
What I found was a place to dance, to be creative, to feel close to people, and to let friendships grow. That possibility has accompanied me from the beginning of my dance journey into new cities, relationships, and recent evenings that still surprise me.
If that sounds like something you would like to have in your life, come dance with us.
Bring a little curiosity. Learn enough to share your first songs. Give yourself time to recognize a few faces and let people get to know you.
Perhaps, one evening, you will arrive and find someone who has been waiting to dance with you.
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ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Rafael Piccolotto de Lima is the Founder and Educational Director of Forró New York, as well as a Latin Grammy-nominated composer, arranger, and music director.
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