A series on exhaustion, congruence, and what comes next
Part 1
This is the beginning of a series.
Not a manifesto.
Not a set of final answers.
But an ongoing reflection on what it really means to teach bachata in the years ahead.
For a long time, I believed that the decline of the influencer era was something mostly happening in the United States or Europe. I assumed Latin America was different. That numbers still meant authority. That visibility still translated into credibility.
But over the past months, something started to feel off.
As I’ve been reading more about digital consumption and cultural shifts, one pattern keeps repeating across industries and regions: people are tired.
Not angry.
Not reactive.
Just tired.
Tired of messages that don’t hold up.
Tired of experts who only exist on camera.
Tired of performance without substance.
When exhaustion doesn’t make noise
Cultural exhaustion rarely arrives with controversy.
It arrives quietly.
It shows up when people leave without announcements.
When they stop engaging.
When they stop trusting.
When they simply don’t come back.
This is exactly what recent reports are now documenting in Latin America: a steady decline in trust toward traditional influencers, alongside a growing preference for real voices, lived experience, and proximity.
Reading this, it was impossible not to think about bachata.
Bachata is not immune to this shift
Over the last few years, especially in the United States, dancers have openly shared why they stepped away from bachata.
Not because they stopped loving it, but because:
- they got injured
- they experienced abuse of power
- classes lacked structure
- competitions felt confusing or empty
- the culture stopped making sense to them
Many say it plainly:
“I just don’t consume that anymore.”
That raises an unavoidable question:
If bachata was shaped by the influencer era, why wouldn’t it also experience the exhaustion that era leaves behind?
From influencer to de-influencer
In other industries, a concept has started to gain traction: de-influencing.
It’s not anti-content.
It’s not anti-visibility.
It’s a rejection of authority based solely on image.
Something similar appears to be emerging in bachata.
A new figure is quietly taking shape, even if it doesn’t yet have a clear name: the teacher who doesn’t need to perform.
The congruent teacher.
The teacher that will matter in 2026
It likely won’t be the most viral.
Or the loudest.
Or the one with the biggest catalog of figures.
It will be the teacher who:
- lives what they teach
- protects their students’ bodies
- understands the “why,” not just the “what”
- has structure, not just charisma
- remains consistent on and off camera
In an overstimulated environment, congruence begins to outweigh exposure.
This is not the end of bachata
This is not a crisis.
It’s a transition.
Bachata isn’t losing strength.
It’s asking for clarity.
As with any cultural shift, some will resist, some will adapt, and a few will quietly lead the change without needing to announce it.
This series going forward
This first piece is simply about naming something many already feel.
The next articles in this series will explore:
- technique and long-term body care
- competition, criteria, and responsibility
- teaching ethics and power dynamics
- structure vs. accumulation of figures
- what congruence actually looks like in daily practice
This series is not about nostalgia or blame.
It’s about paying attention.
So I’ll leave it here with a question that will guide everything that follows:
Have you also felt that something no longer fully adds up?
If so, this series is for you.
About this series
How to Be a Bachata Teacher in 2026 is an ongoing exploration. Each entry builds on the last — not toward a fixed conclusion, but toward clearer questions and more responsible practice.
English