Diego Herrera

My parents danced salsa in the kitchen every Friday, whether there was music playing or not. I pretended it was embarrassing until I moved out and realized I knew all the steps.

Now I push my couch against the wall and teach the way they taught me: no mirrors, no perfect lines, lots of repetition and laughter. We begin by counting. By the third song, everyone has stopped. Come alone; most people do.

I make a playlist for every gathering and take the sequencing far too seriously.