[Photo Credit: Multiple sources]

When we think of tango’s golden age, most of us imagine a stage filled with men: bandoneonistas, violinists, sharp-suited crooners. Women, if present, are often dancers in heels or wistful voices singing of heartbreak. But that image, as iconic as it may seem, leaves out a truth that’s far more complex—and far more compelling.

Women have always been part of tango. They just haven’t always been visible.

Where Were the Women?

Tango was born in a tough, male-dominated world—Buenos Aires ports, brothels, working-class bars.

Explore this history more in our blog The Tango Brother Myth

Respectable women were discouraged from participating in nightlife, let alone playing bandoneón onstage. As tango professionalized in the 1930s and ’40s, it got worse. Industry gatekeepers insisted tango lyrics were “male stories” and that women’s voices didn’t suit the genre [1]. Even once female singers gained popularity, female instrumentalists and composers were nearly erased. The most celebrated era of tango music—the one we still dance to at milongas—is also the one where women were most excluded.

But here’s the thing: some women played anyway.

The Ones Who Broke Through

The women below are just a handful of the many who defied tango’s gender barriers—artists who made space for themselves in an industry that rarely welcomed them. Even these descriptions are just snapshots, trimmed for the sake of article length. Each of these women lived a story worth digging into. If one catches your ear, let that curiosity lead you—you’ll find even more depth, complexity, and brilliance waiting just below the surface.

In the 1920s, Paquita Bernardo defied norms by becoming the first female bandoneonista in tango, earning her the nickname La Mujer Bandoneón. Also fondly known as La Flor de Villa Crespo, she led her own orchestra, mentored a young Osvaldo Pugliese. Though she died tragically young, her compositions were recorded by leading artists of the time, including Carlos Gardel. [2]

Around the same time, singers like Rosita Quiroga and Azucena Maizani brought a raw, urban voice to tango’s early recordings. Rosita was one of the first female voices to record tango songs on disc and became known as “the most authentic interpreter of arrabal tango”, bringing the flavor of the streets into her singing [2]. Azucena often performed in male attire—fedora, suit, swagger—and helped normalize the idea of women singing tango’s gritty narratives [1]. She wrote and composed many songs including Pero Yo Sé (most popular recording by Angel D'Agostino) and worked with icons like Carlos Gardel, becoming one of the defining voices of tango’s early radio and film era [3].

Then came Ada Falcón, whose haunting vocals with Francisco Canaro made her a superstar in the 1930s. Her recording of “Yo no sé qué me han hecho tus ojos” is still considered one of the most emotionally charged valses in tango history. She walked away from it all in 1942, retreating to a convent and leaving behind an air of myth. Her absence itself spoke volumes about the costs women often paid in show business back then. [2]

Another towering figure of the era was Mercedes Simone, often called La Dama del Tango for her refined presence and expressive clarity. Simone was not only a celebrated singer but also a composer, writing her own lyrics and music at a time when few women were credited for either. With over 240 recordings and a career that spanned radio, live tours, and international acclaim, she helped bring tango canción to a wider audience across Latin America and Europe. [4]

In 1950s Uruguay, Nina Miranda became the leading voice of Donato Racciatti’s orchestra—a rare case of a woman fronting a typical tango orquesta during the Golden Age. Her version of “Maula” was a massive hit. [5]

And there was Libertad Lamarque, who not only recorded over 2,000 songs but became a silver-screen legend across Latin America. Exiled to Mexico after a clash with Eva Perón, she turned her career global, taking tango with her. [6]

Nelly Omar, another iconic voice, was banned in Argentina for her Peronist sympathies but returned to the stage in her 90s. She lived and sang to 102—her voice a testament to tango’s enduring spirit. [2]

By the late 1960s, tango had begun to fade in popularity, but Susana Rinaldi brought it roaring back—on her own terms. She sang classic tangos originally written for male voices, often without changing the lyrics, forcing audiences to hear those stories in a new, sometimes jarring, light. She gave voice to contemporary female composers like Eladia Blázquez, whose poetry expanded tango’s emotional vocabulary. [7]

The Modern Resurgence and Why It Matters

For decades, the industry’s bias kept women out of the orquesta pit. Even as late as the 2000s, women made up less than 15% of featured performers in tango festivals. But today, things are shifting [8].

New all-women ensembles like China Cruel [9], Orquesta Mujeres (Camila Arriva) [10], and La Empoderada Orquesta Atipica [11] are reclaiming space on the stage. They perform music written by women—past and present—and sometimes rewrite old lyrics to challenge tango’s misogynistic legacy.

Fun fact: The podcast episode on Camila Arriva [10] was produced by Liz Sabatiuk, a beloved former DMV tanguera now based in Spain. Though she’s moved away, her presence is still felt in our community.

Groups like China Cruel don’t just cover classics—they write songs about femicide, street harassment, and love on their own terms [12]. Their music is raw, witty, fierce. And above all—tango.

Tango is a feeling. A sound. A story we live in every time we embrace on the dance floor. But for too long, those stories were told by only half the population. When women step into the orquesta—whether singing, playing, or composing—they’re not just filling a gap. They’re expanding tango’s soul.

So next time you hear that bandoneón cry, ask yourself: whose voice is still missing? And what do we gain when we finally listen?

🎧 P.S. Looking to explore more women shaping tango today? Check out Heyni Solera, a talented DC-based bandoneonista, composer, and podcaster. She’s one of the few women in the U.S. carving space in the tango instrumental world, and her podcast Tango Unwind dives deep into the art, culture, and personal stories behind the music.
👉 heynisolera.com

Sources:

[1] 1920 – 1945 Azucena Maizani – Drag King History (Blog)

[2] Pioneras del Tango | Buenos Aires Ciudad - Gobierno de la Ciudad Autónoma de Buenos Aires (Article)

[3] Biography of Azucena Maizani (Todotango)

[4] Biography of Mercedes Simone (Todotango)

[5] Nina Miranda (Tango Singer) (Blog)

[6] Libertad Lamarque; Legendary Latin American Actress, Singer (LA Times Article)

[7] Biography of Susana Rinaldi (Todotango)

[8] All-women Argentina tango festival calls for end to machismo | Women's Rights News (Al Jazeera Article)

[9] Asado Y Tango - China Cruel (Blog)

[10] Humans of Tango - Camila Arriva (Podcast)

[11] We want more feminists to listen to tango (Pagina 12 Article)

[12] The other tango: feminist, with reversed roles and a gender perspective (Perfil Article)

Written by Vienna Tango School with drafting support from ChatGPT-4.5 model, using a combination of peer-reviewed studies, psychological research, and community insights to explore the emotional and neurological effects of Argentine tango.
Written by Vienna Tango School with drafting support from ChatGPT-4.5 model, using a combination of peer-reviewed studies, psychological research, and community insights to explore the emotional and neurological effects of Argentine tango.