Defending New Era Cuban Salsa, Cuban Critics against the world

At the time of writing, I am approaching the end of my second decade of dancing, studying, and exploring Cuban dance arts, as well as teaching them for much of that time. In recent years, I’ve been hearing more disappointed Cuban voices regarding the European Salsa scene: “You Europeans don’t dance like us Cubans,” “What are you making of Salsa? It’s just a simple street dance!” “Why are you dancing Yoruba dances to a Salsa song?” “We are defending Cuban arts!” These are expressions of a simple desire: to preserve the dance as it is, or was, in Cuba.

While I understand the desire to defend the dance’s authenticity, it feels like those critics are saying, “Your way of enjoying dance isn’t valid.”

Well, what can I say?! I am having a blast doing my thing, and I dare say: that is what dance is about.

While I can’t speak for every non-Cuban dancer, I think I am just a part of what I shall call, for the lack of a better term “New Era Cuban Salsa style”, or maybe just “Timba”, rather than “Casino”—which, to me, seems to reflect what most of us are dancing (or aspiring to dance) in Europe today.

There is so much to say about this topic, I heard so many arguments invalidating our way of dance, so apart from a few remarks, I will advance and articulate this idea through the various complaints I have heard.

Cuban Salsa is an evolving dance (and music)

At the center of all the critics below lies a single dilemma. It’s a case of defending the purity and authenticity of the dance versus the idea that it can evolve.

I like to view dances as though they were Alive and Dead arts. By alive, I mean an art form that is still lived and defined by the collective of dancers dancing it. As dancers are forever changing – so does the art. The dance evolves, morphs, and is always becoming.

A “dead” dance, on the other hand, is static. people may still be learning and performing it, but it has come to a stage where the dance is still and well-defined. To dance a “dead” dance would mean that the dancer must fit into some kind of a fixed image of the dance, and if they don’t, well…many tend to say that “they don’t really know the dance”. In my opinion, Salsa is still very much alive, its predecessor dances Son & Rumba, I would generally call “dead”.

Cubans have diverse perspectives on the evolution of Casino (For those that are not familiar, Casino is the original and authentic name of the dance). Some embrace the changes, even shaping its future, while others resist, believing that dance should remain unchanged. This resistance often manifests as protests, with three common types of protestors:

The Bailadors of today These are dancers who learn the dance informally, either in the streets or from family. They dance for fun, much like at any Latin party, often unaware of the dance’s deeper complexity or history. Their protests arise from a preference for a simple and raw dance.

The Purists are typically Bailadors who are very experienced and familiar with the dance.,but they already view the dance as “dead”. They hold strong views on how it should be danced and protest when they see deviations from their expectations.

The Bailarins are classically trained Cuban dancers, often with backgrounds in Ballet, Contemporary, Folklore, or Cabaret. Bailarins are typically engaged with “dead” dances. They revere them and dedicate years to mastering them. But this same reverence is not applied to a “living” dance like Salsa. The protest of Bailiarins is often a mix of inflexibility stemming from their studious nature and pride over a dance that is developed “by the people” rather than professional dancers.

Salsa Cubana is a dance with a strong cultural relation

What I am about to say in the rest of the article is controversial and provocative, and even I say it with a measure of unease as I do not mean it being taken in the wrong way. Salsa (Casino, Timba, and the rest of the “Cuban menu”) is a genre of music (actually more than one), and dance that originated in Cuba. The style of dance is tightly connected to the way of life, the culture, the religion, and the history of the country. Nothing I am about to say will change any of that.

I agree with critics who argue that many dancers and teachers approach salsa with little regard for its cultural heritage. I have no interest in defending those who fail to understand or respect the context from which this dance emerged.

If we want to treat the art with respect, we should view it through various lenses: the structure of the dance, the authenticity of movement, Cuba’s history, culture, and way of life…and more. I truly believe there is little chance for anyone to dance Cuban salsa well without learning the context of this dance. I have the utmost respect for the culture Casino and Timba come from.

And at the same time…

I also have respect for the process we dancers and teachers went through outside of Cuba – and I don’t see it as less legitimate.

To keep it clear: what I am about to defend, New Era Cuban Salsa, let’s say, refers to the collective ways of dancing of those outside of Cuba who invested themselves in the dance. They learned it well, and explored the heritage, and yet dance in a manner some would call less authentic. I have no business in defending dancers and teachers who did not invest in studying the dance well, and I fully understand most complaints about the phenomenon, it pains me just the same.

New Era Cuban Salsa Style? That’s cultural appropriation!

We must start by affirming our legitimacy. Let’s be honest—outside of Cuba, we dance a little differently. The core is very similar, but the flavor is different.

Casino was invented by Cuban youth in the 1950s, inspired by a blend of Cuban, European, and American Dances. By the 1970s, it had become wildly popular, maintaining its dominance in Cuba until Reggaeton overtook its popularity sometime around the 2010s. Before the 1950s, the popular dance of the era changed every decade or so. In that historical context, Timba and Casino had an unusually long reign.

If you’re not Cuban, it’s not for you to decide how Cuban Salsa is danced.

I would argue that Cuban Salsa has a certain structure, it has a temperament and style that is tightly connected to the Cuban being. But one can study it like one can become Cuban through naturalization. I don’t believe in the inherent value of competitions, but if I can win a Salsa competition in Cuba versus Cubans, maybe I dance it well enough to at least consider it Cuban? If some prestigious Cuban dancers would recognize me as a great dancer, would it be enough? We should evaluate dancers based on their dancing, and not their heritage.

I would also like to point out that there is some hypocrisy in this line of reasoning. Many Cubans dance ballet without being Italian or French; or they dance hip hop without being a part of Black American culture. Cuban youths add their own unique flavor to Reggaeton without being Puerto Rican. They dance, and innovate within the genres, and nobody complains when they do it well. Even the dances of the Yoruba evolved to be quite different from their origins, and yet some Cubans apparently feel comfortable claiming the dance for themselves without being born and raised in the area that used to be Yorubaland. Dances cross borders.

Sometimes the problem is simply just the naming. Honestly, I’d like to call Cuban salsa by a different name entirely, as dancers in the United States have done with Salsa LA or Salsa NY. These styles are subjected to relatively little judgment for their lack of authenticity (concerning the Cuban heritage). Ultimately I care about respecting the culture the dance comes from, and our dance, while a bit different in essence, is still very similar to the original. I think the true injustice would be to disconnect it from its heritage. So I keep calling it Cuban Salsa or Timba.

What’s up with Afro-Cuban fusion?! That’s a religious dance and inappropriate to be danced by someone not of the culture

I understand this concern. As I am not a Santero myself, this is the one topic where I hesitate to make bold claims.

I would say this though: even in Cuba, there is a process of taking Cuban dances as cultural heritage rather than solely religious expression. Groups like Conjunto Folklórico Nacional de Cuba and Raíces Profundas revere the dance for its artistry. While many dancers follow the religion, not all do—and it’s not an issue. The great dancers are recognized for their skill, not their piety. Many professional dancers learn to dance in famous institutions like the ISA (Instituto Superior de Arte), institutions that are predominantly academic – not religious. So, the process of separating the dance from religious exclusivity was initiated in Cuba…by Cubans.

Now, many of us non-Cuban dancers studied under those outstanding teachers. And many of those teachers don’t mind the fusion of salsa and folklore so much, and they approve of our ways. Many even dance like this themselves. So for us, dancers outside of Cuba, the question is: who should we listen to? To our revered teachers, or to some other foreign voice?

Another important point is that the music is not only asking for integrating religious elements in to the dance – it’s begging for it. There are Entire songs that talk about the Orishas (e.g Agua Pa’yemayá / Elito Revé y Su Charangon), and others have long sections of Batá (e.g Reverencia / Pablo Timba & Mayito Rivera). From a dancer’s perspective, it’s silly not to respond to the calls. Don’t you raise your hands when the song goes “Manos Arriba!”? The song asks the dancers to resonate: that is an undisputed essence of great dancing.

Of course, some dancers incorporate Yoruba movements without fully understanding them, and their execution may be lacking. But if they are making an effort to learn, why not give them some patience and guidance? Afro-Cuban dances are incredibly challenging. Instead of dismissing them outright, fostering their curiosity and encouraging deeper study could lead to more thoughtful, respectful movement. After all, telling them off too soon risks shutting down their interest in Cuban culture entirely.

What they do outside of Cuba is only commercial

A common critic is that whatever it is that is danced outside of Cuba – it is too flashy, has too much fusion, and it lost its original charm. Us non-Cubans typically respond with something along the lines of “But some amazing Cuban teacher taught me this”, to which a Cuban might reply, “That’s just commercial.”. And by “commercial” they mean either that the teachers adapted their dance to what sells, or that artists with a folklore background, for example, had to combine their arts with Salsa so that their expertise would have an audience. Whichever it is, the claim goes that even though they teach it, they would not dance like that themselves.

Well, yeah, maybe. That’s one theory, and maybe for some artists it’s true. But maybe some artists genuinely enjoy it? The teachers we’ve studied under aren’t just any Cuban dancers. They’re people who have danced Cuban dances for many, many years, and who perhaps looked for ways to spice things up. Maybe they created another form of expression that adds richness to the dance we love? Danza Cubana (or Afro contemporary as we call it in Europe) is a fusion of Modern Ballet and folklore dances, yet this fusion is widely celebrated in Cuba, despite its lack of “purity”. If this style is considered a beautiful and worthy pursuit, why should innovation within Salsa be any different?

Let’s entertain the idea that Casino’s evolution was driven by commercial considerations. Does that make it inherently bad? Commerce often fuels innovation, inspiring artists to push boundaries and create something new. Anyone who dedicates their life to the dance must also find a way to make a living from it. Salsa NewStyle by Yoyo Flow (Yoandy Villaurrutia), or Son Moderno by Danger Rodriguez & Yunaisy Farray are often criticised for exactly that. 

When I look at commercially successful dancers, what I see are great artists who enjoy dancing in their unique way – because Cuban music itself has evolved, and they find it appropriate to match their dance to the new music. Yes, they’ve built a career from it—good for them! But that doesn’t mean their creation is bad, unnatural, or inauthentic: quite the opposite. It’s their own authentic effort, attractive nature, and unique style that have resonated with dancers worldwide and allowed them to become commercial successes.

What are you doing in those Salsa schools, studying it for years? What is so complicated? I learned it all from my parents when I was 8 years old.

It’s true that in Cuba, Casino (or Salsa) is passed down from generation to generation through friends, family, and social gatherings. That’s a natural process, and perhaps it’s the reason why any Cuban can still claim that they dance Casino, even though they’re dancing differently from how their parents and grandparents did decades earlier. For us Europeans, however, there’s much more to learn. It’s not just about mastering figures; it’s about embodying the temperament, attitude, and quality of movement that makes the dance uniquely Cuban. The cultural elements that come naturally to Cubans require deliberate study and practice for those of us outside that environment. It takes time, effort, and dedication to truly internalize these aspects.

At the same time, I believe many Cubans underestimate the depth and artistry of Casino, Timba, and Salsa today. This happens, in part, because they overlook two key points. First, many are unaware that the version of Casino they dance today is already a simplified evolution of the original. Second, they often don’t realize how much the global Salsa scene has grown and developed over the years.

With the first point, I don’t mean disrespect. But if someone learns Casino at home and dances for fun with their friends and family, that doesn’t mean they have a full understanding of the dance. Cubans can be just as oblivious to their own dance culture as any other citizen of the world. Casino has many base figures and nuances that are often forgotten. By studying under the great Casineros of the era, it’s possible to become aware of the complexities of the dance. But if someone learns the dance through friends and family and doesn’t bother to explore further, they might never realize the richness of the style and the depth of the knowledge base.

As for the second point: I honestly think some Cubans just don’t get the global salsa scene. Their perspective on the dance is different, and that’s fine—if they prefer a simple, joyful, and relaxed approach, there’s nothing wrong with that. But many of us enjoy elevating the dance to make it something more sophisticated or challenging. The amount of knowledge developed over the years is immense. To study Timba or new-era Cuban Salsa – and really learn it well – takes at least three to ten years. It’s that serious! I’ve been at it for two decades and I still continuously learn more through self-exploration and through the great maestros of the era.

But why all those flashy moves? Why are you trying to hit every beat of the song? What about the simple dance of having fun between a man and a woman?

Because that’s what we enjoy – as simple as that.

Casino developed in two major social contexts in Cuba. The first was the social context. Since the dawn of time, dance has been an activity that helps people get to know each other and connect. In Cuba, this context is very dominant, so for a lot of Cubans Casino (or salsa) is primarily an opportunity to have fun, connect, and maybe even to get to know that “special someone.”

The second context for Casino’s development was the competition. Shows like “Para bailar casino” in the 1990s are a prime example: competitors pushed the dance to the limit in those times – crazy figures, a lot of style, and everything that would take the win. Many Cubans will say that the competition style should not be applied in the social context, but that very much depends on the dancer.

That’s Cuba. And that’s what Salsa means to (some) Cubanos. But we have been dancing Salsa in outside of Cuba for a few decades now; long enough to describe our own context. I “grew up” as a dancer at mass parties, idolizing top dancers instead of my parents. Many of my fellow European dancers grew up in festivals where top artists from across Europe meet and rejoice in their style, but also compare themselves to others and become eager to push further. So yes, we truly enjoy understanding and relating to the music, hitting the beats, and impressing others or ourselves with our style. We love perfecting our leading, becoming soft. We philosophize about the dance, and love silly discussions such as whether backsteps are part of Casino. We can enjoy ridiculing ourselves and connecting with our partners in ways that go beyond relaxed social dancing.

Honestly, if Casino had remained the way it was decades ago—if I had to enjoy it strictly the way most Cubans do today—I likely would have moved on after five years, seeking a new challenge or the sophistication that other dances provide. But fortunately, I discovered a different kind of bliss: what Salsa Cubana can be when approached with an open mind. And I believe my personal experience is not unique. Cuban Salsa usually survives the onslaught of Salsa Linea & Bachata predominately where there are key figures that can demonstrate Cuban Salsa in its elevated form. We European dancers do connect with our partners, we do rejoice in the music, but we do so in a different manner, and that makes sense considering the context we grew up in.

And yes, I’m sure that some great Ballet or Folklore dancer would giggle at the gringo making claims about the elevation of Salsa. But then I would point out that even Cuba’s folkloric traditions have evolved into elevated forms danced by professionals. For instance, the Conjunto Folklórico Nacional de Cuba is attempting to preserve this style and define the true “one and only” technique of the dance.  Meanwhile, I’ve been to religious ceremonies of the Santeria in Cuba, and I can say that the folklore of the people is quite different from the elevated form.  There is always a difference between the “dance of the people” and the elevated form which is danced by those who choose to invest themselves.

Last remarks about the state of Cuban arts

I think it’s worth saying, that not all Cuban arts are in the same boat. I think, with Folklore dances, Europe has a long way to go before one could make similar claims. The deep-rooted traditions and knowledge remain largely in the hands of Cubans and those who have lived through Cuba’s cultural experiences. However, this as well is gradually changing, and groups like “Cuban Dance International Company” are helping to bridge the gap. We already see initial blooms of non-Cubans doing true justice to the art, and with the years they might become the unlikely maestros.

I also think that Cuban music is not in the same state as the dance. Cuban music has rarely been done well outside the traditions of Cuba. Cuban bands are constantly pushing the limits, breaking the borders of the genre. I have not seen many foreign artists that can replicate the magic that is created in Cuban bands. So although the dance itself is evolving more dynamically outside Cuba, I believe that the development of the music is still being driven by Cuban artists.

Salsa is dying in Cuba

This is my lament to you – Salsa is dying in Cuba. The new generation may know a few moves, but their hearts lie elsewhere, drawn more to Reggaeton than to the rhythms of their ancestors. Many who still dance Casino (or Salsa) in Cuba do so for tourism and commerce rather than for the sheer love of the dance. While some claim to “defend the Cuban arts”, very few Cubans are busy defending the art of pure Casino. Many of its true defenders have left Cuba for unfortunate reasons. Of course, we can blame the socio-economic-political situation, but it is what it is – Casino, as a dance and perhaps even as a music genre, is losing its charm for Cubans. One of the latest songs of Havana D’Primera – La Carta, is a true testament to that sentiment and a shot in the dark in the hope of changing it.

In Europe, the golden times of the Cuban scene were around the 2000s and 2010s, yet the dance is very much alive. There are numerous events all around the continent, from parties to festivals. And so many dancers are pure-hearted in their desire to dance and express themselves. A few of the early European students of the dance have now emerged as artists and the idols of the new era. Local non-Cuban salsa teachers are loved by their communities for their didactics, depth of knowledge, or different view of the dance. The organizers, the artists, and the teachers are increasingly non-Cuban. The Cuban artists who do integrate into the European scene often do so because they share in this evolving vision, either as pioneers of new-era Cuban Salsa or as professionals adapting their craft to meet this growing demand.

Casino may be slowly fading in Cuba, but Salsa Cubana is alive and kicking in Europe. One can resist the change and the development of the dance, but that would only hasten the death of the dance we love. We cherish dance for its heritage, and we respect its Cuban roots, but for the dance to live on, we all need to let it develop naturally – even if that means outside of Cuba. It is an amazing art form, with deep cultural heritage like no other. It is a dance with so much freedom of expression. It is art, it is emotion, and it can be exhilarating and euphoric – if one just dares to explore it, and let it evolve. Who knows? If we’re less judgemental and rigid about it, maybe it can continue to attract younger generations of dancers.

Editorial Contribution: Kristina Gandrud