When Community Becomes a Clique

A Warning from the Dance Floor

Dance communities can be beautiful things.

They give people a sense of belonging. They create friendships, introduce dancers to new music and encourage people who might otherwise be hesitant to step onto the dance floor. A strong group can support instructors, DJs, promoters and venues. It can help an entire dance style grow.

However, there is another side that we do not discuss often enough.

A community can gradually become a clique. Loyalty can turn into groupthink. Support can become pressure. Before long, people are no longer forming their own opinions. They are simply reacting according to what the group has decided.

I learned this lesson through an experience that had a lasting effect on me.


How It Started

Years ago, a DJ who had no real connection to the salsa and bachata community was hired to provide music for an event at a club. Because he needed help reaching dancers from that community, he asked me to DJ one of the nights and assist him with spreading the word.

This was during a period when bachata was beginning to grow considerably in popularity. Groups of bachata dancers would sometimes appear together at salsa-oriented events. They wanted more bachata played at those events, and they were also working to create greater support for bachata-only parties.

There was nothing inherently wrong with that. Every dance community needs people who are passionate enough to advocate for it.

Wanting to help the event, I contacted a woman whom I considered a good friend. She was connected to one of the larger bachata groups at the time. I offered her $100 to help cover the group’s drinks if she could encourage them to attend.

They came to the event, danced for a while, enjoyed a few drinks and eventually left. Everything appeared to have gone well.

There was no argument. There was no disagreement. There was no reason for me to believe that anyone had been offended.

Then came the following day.


A Meme and a Misunderstanding

While scrolling through Facebook, I came across a humorous meme. It showed two people dancing bachata with the familiar red prohibition symbol placed over the image. The accompanying words read:

“No Bachata. Go Get a Room!”

I laughed and shared it.

That was all there was to it. I did not create the meme. I was not thinking about the previous night. I was not targeting anyone, and I certainly was not trying to insult the people whom I had personally invited and paid to support the event.

Nevertheless, the reaction was immediate.

The person I had contacted shared my post with members of the bachata community and added the comment:

“I have never felt so offended.”

At first, I did not understand what had happened. I later realized that she must have interpreted the meme as an attack on her group after seeing them dance bachata at the party.

Nothing could have been further from the truth.

I explained that there was no connection between the meme and their appearance at the event. Unfortunately, by that point, the explanation no longer mattered. The first interpretation had already been accepted, repeated and amplified.

Other bachata dancers joined the discussion. Many of them had not spoken to me. Some probably did not know me personally. They had heard one version of the story from someone within their circle, and that was apparently enough.

Very quickly, I had been cast as some kind of anti-bachata villain.


When Loyalty Replaces Independent Thought

The situation did not remain an online misunderstanding. Members of the group openly encouraged people to boycott my events and other events for which I had been hired.

In today’s language, people would probably say that they were attempting to “cancel” me. This happened long before the expression cancel culture became part of our everyday vocabulary.

What disturbed me most was not that people disliked a meme. People are free to find something funny, unfunny, tasteful or offensive.

What disturbed me was how few people appeared willing to ask a simple question:

“What did you mean by this?”

Instead, an accusation was made, the group rallied around it and the punishment began.

That is one of the dangers of a clique. The members may believe they are protecting one another, but they can also surrender their individual judgment. They begin to inherit each other’s disagreements. Someone else’s interpretation becomes their interpretation. Someone else’s enemy becomes their enemy.

Facts become less important than loyalty.


The Professional Consequences

Perhaps the most painful consequence involved a dance studio where I had been the resident DJ for its socials.

The studio specialized in mambo—salsa On2. Ironically, the first time I DJ’d one of its socials, I played a bachata song. One of the owners rushed toward the DJ booth, made the familiar throat-cutting gesture with his hand and told me not to play bachata.

Afterward, I explained that I believed some musical variety was important. Eventually, he agreed.

In other words, I had been playing bachata at that social before bachata had reached the level of popularity it enjoys today. I had defended its inclusion in a setting where the people in charge initially did not want it played.

Nevertheless, after the controversy, the studio stopped hiring me.

I cannot claim to know every conversation that took place behind the scenes. However, the timing was impossible for me to ignore. The narrative that I was somehow against bachata had traveled farther than my explanation ever did.

That is another lesson about cliques: a group can damage someone’s reputation without ever examining the full history of that person’s actions.

The accusation was that I disliked bachata. The reality was that I had advocated for playing it.


The Effect It Had on Me

I would like to say that I immediately rose above the situation and continued as if nothing had happened.

That would not be honest.

The experience left a very bad taste in my mouth. It did not make me dislike bachata as music or as a dance, but it did make me stop trying to understand it as deeply as I understood salsa and mambo.

Instead of studying the genre, learning more about its artists and becoming better at programming it, I often relied on playlists and recommendations I found online.

Looking back, I recognize that I was reflecting some of the same negative energy that I felt had been directed toward me. A part of me had concluded, perhaps unfairly, that if members of the bachata community were determined to see me as an enemy, there was little reason for me to invest more of myself in serving them.

That was not my best response.

It was understandable, but it was not productive.

The attempt to cancel me ultimately failed. I continued working. I concentrated more heavily on salsa and mambo, the music I knew best, and continued building my own events and reputation.

Still, something valuable had been lost. A misunderstanding that could have been resolved through one direct conversation created years of unnecessary distance.


Why I Am Revisiting Bachata

Today, I am once again making a deliberate effort to play the best and most danceable bachata I can find.

Anyone who visits one of my events should be able to recognize that effort. I want bachata dancers to feel that their part of the evening has been programmed with care, not treated as an obligation or an interruption between salsa songs.

I am listening more carefully. I am paying attention to what works on the dance floor. I am learning which songs connect with experienced bachateros and which ones invite newer dancers to participate.

I cannot change what happened, but I can decide what I do with the lesson.

I do not want an old conflict to determine the quality of what I present today.


Belonging Should Not Require Blind Loyalty

This article is not an argument against dance groups.

Groups can be extremely positive. They can encourage shy dancers, help newcomers feel welcome and create collective energy at an event. They can support local instructors and expose people to music and traditions they might never have discovered independently.

The danger begins when belonging requires blind loyalty.

Being part of a bachata, salsa, mambo, kizomba, stepping or any other dance group should not mean that another person decides whom you must support, whom you must avoid or what you are permitted to think.

Before joining a boycott, ask what actually happened.

Before repeating an accusation, speak to the person being accused.

Before deciding that someone is against your dance community, examine that person’s complete record rather than one post, one joke or one secondhand interpretation.

Do not allow a group to turn another human being into a character in a story that may not be true.


Social Media Makes the Problem Worse

Social media rewards immediate reactions.

A person can post an accusation in seconds. Other people can share it without context. By the time the person being accused becomes aware of the situation, a complete narrative may already have been constructed.

Explanations rarely travel as quickly as outrage.

This is why responsibility matters. Having a platform—even a small one—means understanding that our words can influence how others treat someone.

There is a difference between saying, “This post offended me,” and saying, “This person is against our entire community.”

There is also a difference between supporting a friend emotionally and automatically accepting every conclusion that friend has reached.

A real friend can say:

“I understand why you are upset, but have you spoken to him?”

That question might have prevented everything that followed in my situation.


A Healthy Community Can Withstand Questions

Healthy dance communities do not demand uniformity. They do not punish people simply for asking questions, having different musical preferences or making a joke that falls flat.

They communicate.

They allow room for context.

They understand that intent does not automatically erase impact, but they also understand that perceived impact does not automatically prove malicious intent.

Both sides deserve to be heard.

A strong community does not need villains in order to remain united. It does not grow by tearing down DJs, instructors, promoters or dancers who are imperfect. It grows by correcting misunderstandings, creating opportunities and holding people accountable in proportion to what actually occurred.


Keep Your Own Mind

Enjoy your group. Support your friends. Celebrate the music and dance style that you love.

But keep your own mind.

Do not allow a clique to hand you a list of people you are expected to dislike. Do not boycott an event simply because someone else had a disagreement with the organizer. Do not participate in damaging someone’s name without first making a sincere effort to understand the facts.

The person being targeted may have made a mistake.

The person making the accusation may also be mistaken.

Sometimes both people have contributed to the conflict. Sometimes neither intended for the situation to become what it became.

The only way to know is to communicate honestly.

The dance floor should be a place where people come together through music, culture and movement. It should not become another battleground where groups compete for control and punish anyone who is believed to be on the wrong side.

Community is powerful.

That power can be used to welcome people, support artists and build something lasting. It can also be used to isolate, intimidate and destroy opportunities.

The difference depends on whether we are building a genuine community—or merely protecting a clique.

- El Caobo

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