Why we built our foundation this way

 

A dance journey shaped by food, family, and the need for something more Dominican

​

Something Missing in the Room

​

When I stepped deeper into the bachata scene in New York, I felt a gap I couldn’t ignore. The socials were full, the music was loud, dancers filled the floor — but something Dominican was missing.

​

The playlists leaned modern, the teaching leaned on routines, and while it worked for some, it didn’t reflect the bachata I grew up with. At family gatherings, cousins danced in the living room. At house parties, the kitchen doubled as a dance floor. Bachata wasn’t something we “learned” — it was something we lived.

​

I owe a lot to the teachers and organizers who came before me. Without them, there wouldn’t even be a Dominican bachata scene to build on. But I also saw space to grow. More rooms that reflected the sound and feeling I knew in my bones.

​

That’s where Tres Golpes began. At first, it was about the genres themselves. If you learned to move with los tres Dominican rhythms — bachata, merengue, and dembow — you carried that Dominican flow naturally. The brand was literally called Bailando con los Tres Golpes. My thought was simple: if I couldn’t always find it, I’d build it.

​

Over time, the meaning expanded. The food gave me the name. The teaching gave it structure. And the culture gave it purpose.

​

Building from Mangú

​

Every Dominican knows mangú con los tres golpes. Mashed plantains with salami, queso frito, and fried egg. It’s more than a meal — it’s memory.

​

At family gatherings, my mother, my aunts, and my grandmother would make sure the mangú was already on the table before the rest of us woke up. The smell carried through the house, and by the time we stumbled into the kitchen, the plate was waiting. On some Saturdays, my father brought it home from the Dominican spot by our house. That plate is etched into my memory: warm, heavy, unmistakably Dominican.

 

That plate became the metaphor for how I teach. Mangú is the foundation series — the base that holds everything together. Without mangú, there’s no plate. Without fundamentals, there’s no Dominican bachata.

 

The Foundation Series is where you learn rhythm, confidence, and the cultural roots of the music. If you take nothing else, you should still be able to step into any social and feel at home in the music.

 

Once you have the base, you can add the toppings. That’s where Los Tres Golpes comes in.

 

Los Tres in Class: Musicality, Connection, Creativity

 

Musicality
Bachata isn’t just a “1-2-3-tap.” It’s layered, alive, and built from multiple voices. The requinto (lead guitar) carries the melody. The segunda builds rhythm and harmony. The bass grounds the sound. Layer in the güira and bongos, and you get a conversation happening inside every song.

​

The music itself shifts through moods:

• Derecho — smooth and steady, a place to settle in.

• Majao — syncopated, heavier, pulling tension into the step.

• Mambo — the release, where the song bursts open and energy rises.

​

And behind it all, bachata carries the DNA of bolero, son, and merengue. Bolero gave it romance, son gave it structure, merengue gave it drive. That mix is what created bachata — a sound once dismissed as “low-class,” too tied to the campo to be played on national radio during the Trujillo years. Knowing that history, and the amargue (bitterness) that lives inside the lyrics, gives you context for how the dance should feel. You’re not just stepping to counts; you’re carrying the story of the song.

​

Connection

Musicality is how you hear the music. Connection is how you share it with someone else.

​

Connection starts with frame — the physical structure — but it goes deeper. It’s how you show up, the energy you bring, and whether your partner trusts you in those first steps.

​

A lead’s job isn’t control; it’s responsibility. Protecting the space, listening to the song, and matching your partner’s style. A dance is a conversation, not a lecture. When both people are heard, every dance feels unique. That’s what makes a social floor come alive — not big tricks, but small choices that bring out the best in each other.

​

Creativity

A lot of dancers hit a wall. They feel like bachata is repetitive, or they get stuck chasing endless new moves. But real creativity doesn’t come from memorizing more — it comes from mastering the basics until they’re second nature.

​

That’s when you stop thinking and start playing. The same basic step feels different every time when you let the music lead.

​

It’s like the pottery story: one class was told to make a single perfect pot by the end of the semester, the other was told to make a pot every day. The group that practiced daily ended up more creative and more skilled. Dance is the same. Consistency creates freedom.

​

That’s why Los Tres in class means musicality, connection, and creativity. They’re not extras — they’re the heart of how every dance becomes personal, free, and alive.

​

Los Tres in the Brand: Culture, Connection, Community

​

The same idea shaped what I wanted this project to bring into the dance scene.

 

Culture through classes.

I wanted to create spaces that taught Dominican fundamentals — rhythm, history, context. The kind of foundation that makes people feel confident and capable on the floor. Not choreography, not routines, but real tools that let you step into any song and hold your own.

​

Connection through socials.

New York has bachata socials, but not enough that reflect the Dominican feel I grew up with. My vision was to create gatherings that feel like family nights — the kind where people dance, talk, and laugh without needing performances or overproduction. A space for the music to breathe, for the community to actually connect.

​

Community through our online hub.

Bachata is global now, but Dominican bachata still feels scattered. I wanted a place where dancers anywhere could come together, share resources, and grow alongside each other. Skool.com became that hub — not as a replacement for the local scene, but as an extension of it.

​

Those three — culture, connection, and community — are what I wanted to bring into this space. Together, they’re the way to make New York the biggest home for Dominican bachata outside the island.

​

Why It Matters

​

Mangú y los Tres Golpes isn’t just a clever name. It ties the brand to something every Dominican knows, while giving the structure to grow — in New York and beyond.

​

The foundation is mangú. The layers are Los Tres. And together, they create a plate that feels both familiar and new.

​

I didn’t want to just show up and eat. This is my way of bringing more to the table, so the feast can grow, feed more people, and inspire others to bring their own plates too.

​