The week of November 16th was a crazy time. The last week of classes before Thanksgiving break is a struggle in a normal semester, but with fall break being canceled on account of the worldwide pandemic– I’ll be honest I’d seen better days. Beyonce’s latest IVY PARK collection dropped, just in time to remind me that I’m still a broke college student who can’t afford an IVY PARK price tag; I beat my own record for how many days I could wear the same pair of leggings in a row without anyone else being the wiser; and I finally fell asleep on a zoom lecture with my camera on (the horror). As captivating as my social life has become these days in quarantine, none of this came close to my excitement around the EXCEL and DEI Intersectionality in the Arts Event which was hosted on Nov 17th.
If you weren’t able to attend, stop, and take a moment to reevaluate your priorities. Don’t worry I’ll wait. Just know that some experiences in life don’t come around every dynasty and you missed a good one… but luckily for you, I’m here to give you the highlights.
What IS intersectionality?
There are certain words that are like the literary equivalent of Franks Red Hot…
Interdisciplinary, interdepartmental, and recently intersectionality seem to have that effect (any linguists able to tell me what’s up with the prefix inter?). Throw it in a grant BAM approved. Throw it in an essay BAM A+. Throw it in a risky text BAM boo’ed up. But what does it ACTUALLY MEAN? Why does it make liberal academics sophisticatedly begin snapping, squint their eyes, and regard you with a new profound respect as the lights mysteriously dim? (no that only happens to me? Weird…)
Intersectionality is a term that developed in the late 80’s and early 90’s and comes out of Critical Race Theory. It was coined by Dr. Kimberlé Crenshaw, a black female legal scholar at Stanford University. According to the all knowing Wikipedia, “ Intersectionality is a theoretical framework for understanding how aspects of a person’s social and political identities combine to create different modes of discrimination and privilege.” It seeks to embrace the complexity of identities that make up group dynamics and not to essentialize a group’s experiences.
The approach selects different aspects of a person’s identity and then analyzes the effects of these intersecting and overlapping identities. The classic triad compares race, gender, and class but any aspect of identity can be studied: sexuality, size, nationality, caste, religion, disability, physical appearance, etc.
Need an example?
When looking at a diverse group of women, all of those women may face discrimination based on their gender, but the intersection of their other identities such as race, class, or physical appearance may complicate or alter the way they experience gender discrimination.
In her first essay “Demarginalizing the Intersection of Race and Sex,” Crenshaw looks at examples of court case where black women were uniquely disadvantaged because of their dual identity as a black woman. The law was only set up to address discrimination based off of race or gender but these women were falling through the cracks as they faced oppression based on the intersection of the two.
Intersectionality is particularly relevant in conversations around social movements which are historically founded upon identity politics to help delineate the “us” from the “other.”1 This has a nasty side-effect of at best conflating and at worst ignoring intragroup differences, a problem that unequally affects members who sit at the intersection of multiple marginalized identities.2
Dr. Naomi André, a speaker at the Intersectionality in the Arts event, discussed how one of the strongest applications of intersectional theory is in the creation of coalitions. When seeking to create social change or gather opinions on a topic organizing a group around a common cause instead of identity politics can be really effective at creating space for inclusivity and building bridges across groups who may not normally be allies.
Intersectionality seeks to reframe the way that identity and identity politics are thought about. It asks individuals and movements seeking to address one form of oppression, to incorporate other intersecting types of oppression. It asks us to acknowledge how while we may identify as oppressed in one aspect we may be an oppressor in another.
“The true force of revolutionary change is never merely the oppressive situations we seek to escape, but that piece of the oppressor which is planted deep within each of us.”
-Audre Lorde
How does this pertain to the performing arts?
The Arts + Intersectionality = LIZZO
Everyone loves Lizzo. Everyone. Dare I say that in a nation as polarized and divided as we are we can all come together around the notion that it is UNAMERICAN to not love Lizzo. (I am not above initiating a McCarthyesque witch hunt for Lizzo haters. Don’t test me.)
Why is Lizzo so dang likeable? She’s authentically and unabashedly herself. She doesn’t attempt to be an idealized media icon. She doesn’t seek to fit into the prescribed cookie cutter mold for black pop stars. She is a multi-faceted person who contains multitudes.
“Do I contradict myself? Very well then I contradict myself. I am large, I contain multitudes.”
– Walt Whitman Lizzo
She writes songs about what it’s like to be a black, body normative, sensitive, flute playing, goal setting woman. While most of her fans don’t share all those identities her confident claiming of her intersectional identities has resulted in fans forming their own coalitions around these different aspects of her identity. Fans flock to Lizzo because she loves being black, because she loves being a woman, because she loves her body as it is, because she loves her band kid nerd status (and honestly band geeks need all the street cred they can get)… She is paving the way for how music, public opinion, and social movements can espouse the values of intersectionality and build coalitions around common causes.
Looking at Lizzo’s fanbase is a great case study into how intersectionality and coalition- making, create bridges across groups that may not have otherwise been allies. By realistically portraying her unique perspective on the world due to the intersection of her different identities, Lizzo is able to create a group of fans who are united by their similarities rather than their differences. Whether you’re a band geek, Rihanna, a varsity twerk team captain, or simply a shower karaoke artist, Lizzo reminds us that focusing on intersectionality can unite us all.
Where can I find more resources about this?
Dr. Naomi André (a real life superhero). Professor of Arts and Ideas in the Humanities Program, Department of Afroamerican and African Studies, and Women’s Studies. One of the speakers at EXCEL’s intersectionality in the Arts event and a national treasure.
Dr. Marc Hannaford’s class Beyond Boundaries: radical black experimental music explores Intersectionality in Music Theory.
The class explores case studies of musical groups such as the Jazz Composers Guild and explores how the impact and power of these groups depends on one’s perspective and calls for a more nuanced and intersectional analysis than just thinking in terms of race or sexuality. Intersectional identities help shed light on the complex and overlapping meanings of various forms of identity and the ways that they filter and distribute power.
Wouldn’t it be cool if intersectionality was a lens used throughout art history, musicology, and theater history courses to study the effectiveness of art pieces or art periods, for a more inclusive and more holistic representation. Just a thought… (Sips tea)
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Intersectionality (I know I know wikipedia isn’t a credible source BUT this is a particularly well-written article and a great starting place if you want to read more about it)
This Bridge Called My Back: Writings of Radical Women of Color- Cherrie Moraga and Gloria Anzuldua
Today the EXCEL Log is featuring an EXCEL Highlight interview with the amazing Dr. Antonio C Cuyler! This interview took place on 9/30/2020 the day before the release of his first book. Make sure to check it out!
I log onto the zoom call nervously checking and double checking my interview questions, cyclically wondering if I compiled enough questions or did enough research, and then conversely wondering if I have too many questions and did too much research? What if I give off creepy stalker vibes, what if he — Dr. Cuyler logs on (Thank god).
A dapper Black man with a well trimmed beard, Dr. Cuyler has a friendly face, Black Panther artwork on his wall, and a slight southern drawl when he introduces himself that immediately puts me at ease (I realize Northern Virginia is only “technically” in the south but let me have this y’all). I try to rush through the pleasantries because I’m now convinced I do in fact have too many questions for the hour interview, but as a true southern gentleman he refuses to let me get to business before we’ve chatted about the weather, shared our life stories, and compared recipes on how to best burn down White supremacy.
Samantha Williams: Yeah, so I’m right in the middle of a quarter life crisis, I just earned my masters degree in opera performance, and also just realized that I kind of might maybe hate opera right now. So yeah, it’s fine. Everything’s fine. We’re just taking a break, it’s not an official separation but I’m definitely seeing other genres. I’m currently really pursuing my love of arts activism and exploring arts administration and trying to figure out what in the world I’m going to do with all these degrees.
Dr. Antonio Cuyler: Oh, that’s so beautiful. Because if you think about it, you’re liberated, in a way where you’re unencumbered by all of the conventions and all of the intricacies, and the idiosyncrasies of those conventions. You have the freedom to envision. You’re creating the space for yourself to really kind of sit back and go “What do I really want to do?”
SW: Absolutely. I mean, you just sold that as a lot more positive, great, and romantic than it could also be described [laughter] but I love that description, I’ll try to stay in that mindset.
AC: I think you should! Because, I think that’s what led me to where I am now because I studied voice at the undergraduate level. And so I had essentially about eight years of intensive voice studying. Before I came to the place that you’re at and I asked myself the same question. So you have these degrees in music, what do you want to do with them?
Dr. Cuyler surely made the most of his degrees. While he is “The first Black man to earn a Ph.D. in Arts Administration,” and “the first Black man to earn promotion and tenure in his discipline,” Dr. Cuyler is less concerned with achieving these types of superlatives. He cares more about the impact he has on enhancing and increasing the educational attainment of arts managers, especially those of color. He has published numerous articles researching Arts Administration Education, and Creative Justice Issues in the Cultural Sector. He earned his BM in Voice and Foreign Languages at Stetson University, his MA in Arts administration, and his Ph.D. in Arts Education/ Arts Administration from Florida State University, and is a Visiting Professor of Arts Management at UM this year.
SW: I noticed your black panther comic in the background!!
AC: Have you seen it?
SW: Yes!
AC: One of my favorite scenes in the movie is that scene where they’re in the museum, I thought it was so poignant. I believe that a recent report said that 90 to 95% of SubSaharan Africa’s cultural objects exist outside of the continent of Africa. And we have these European countries that say we’ll let you borrow your own things back, right? That’s where the importance of cultural capital and holding on to the cultural capital comes in.
For Black people, our cultural capital is the one thing that has always been there… and we have not always used our cultural capital in the same ways that the people who have exploited us for our cultural capital did. I would like to see us become more aware of our cultural capital, and to use our cultural capital in ways that dismantle White supremacy and challenge White supremacy but also give us the agency that we need to not internalize racial oppression.
SW: Do you have examples of what that might look like in an ideal world?
AC: Yeah, let’s say that an artist/ arts administrator like yourself, decided that they were going to create a collective of Black artists who focused on creating Black stories for opera. And I mean more than just those stories that basically turn our trauma into porn like police brutality. Yes, it is a very important thing, but I don’t know that I need to see another opera about police brutality. What about those common stories that show Black joy, Black love? You know, the ways in which we know that Black people exist that the rest of the population doesn’t understand.That would be a way of taking the cultural capital, being very protective of the cultural capital, but also sharing the cultural capital in ways that challenge those stories about our humanity and the quality of our humanity.
I love stories of artists like Prince, Michael Jackson, and even Millie Jackson.. where they said, this is my stuff.. And I’m going to participate in the conversation about how you use my stuff or don’t use my stuff, so that I maintain control of my stuff.
The story of Queen NZynga from Angola would make a really good opera. I was just telling my friend about this and how she participated in the slave trade. There came a point where she was negotiating with the Portuguese to limit the amount of slaves that they were taking from Angola and the Portuguese would not even provide her a seat to sit at the table. So she commanded one of her slaves to basically like get on their knees, and that slave basically served as a chair for her, to show them that you want something from me.
And the reason why I think that’s important is because we’ve seen the results of what happens when cultural objects of significant cultural value and import are taken and looted and pillaged and held in a place where they are not from.
SW: What drew you to want to be an educator in arts administration instead of going directly into arts administration yourself?
AC: At the time there were no full-time Black male faculty teaching arts administration in the country. I thought this would be a good way to kill two birds with one stone. I could teach students who look like me and other students, and help inform the way they think about arts administration.
SW: You’ve done a fair amount or research studying executive opera managers of color
AC: Yes it was the topic of my dissertation. Comparing the experiences of my BIPOC students who were trying to pursue careers and opera management with the white cisgender gay male students that I also taught.
You have to think about your proximity to power. And that’s another thing– intersectional identities! Think about it, if you had no privilege at all, like if you were gender non-conforming, trans, of color, poor, differently-abled… That’s the story that should be told in opera. The story of that person. Because we don’t know a lot about that person’s intersectional lived experiences.And the continued life of the art form is dependent upon the telling of new stories. New relevant stories to people’s lives.
SW: Ok so then why opera? It seems like much of opera’s appeal is its elitism. There is art that’s interested in being relevant and provocative, but it’s in other genres.
AC: So, you know, my gut reaction to your question is why not opera? And I say that because this is the way opera started. I think opera became what you just described in its transportation from Europe to the United States. To make opera fit within the U.S. cultural context we projected all of these ideas of elitism and who opera was for. Opera has always had the potential to be relevant to all people, but the gatekeepers are the ones who had these ideas about conventions and purism. If you were to go to France, Germany, or Italy they are pushing boundaries and making relevant art…
SW: Why do you think there’s something so redeemable about opera that it warrants you trying to change the system from within instead of going to a more inclusive art form?
AC: Those of us who have had that experience of being transported–of transcending ourselves, we know what the art form can do for people. So why in the world would you want to stop other people from experiencing that?
To be able to exclude and to hoard an experience, just for yourself and people like you is a form of White Supremacy. And so I’d like to see opera get to a point where it is actively pursuing creative justice as a form of fighting. You know, the past means of marginalization, subjugation, and oppression that it put on people kept them from being able to contribute as much creativity to the lifespan of the art form as possible.
SW: Who’s your favorite composer?
AC: I am probably the biggest fan of Puccini. Puccini wrote about stories that were relevant, like verismo opera– Hello??– is all about realism. And so we need to take that model and apply it to today
SW: In your article Steadfastly White, Female, Hetero and Able-Bodied, you said that the responsibility for any structural DEI changes and improvements will fall to a highly conscientious and overworked academic labor force and not to the institution’s themselves. That seems so problematic and sad. Why do you think that?
AC: The way colleges and universities are currently responding to the global racial reckoning is very chaotic. It’s like a bunch of chickens running around with their heads cut off. And there’s not a lot of mindful strategic action. There’s lots of discourse, lots of conversations but we as historically marginalized and oppressed groups are exhausted of discourses and conversations. Particularly because if our student populations are among the most privileged in societies across the world, who and what will compel them to care about Creative Justice, Access, Diversity, Equity, Inclusion, Interculturalism, and trans culturalism?
Faculty who personally identify with a marginalized identity are more likely to teach about diversity issues in arts administration. That was a major finding of a study I did on arts administration faculty in the US in 2017. Conversely, if faculty didn’t identify with a marginalized identity they were less likely to teach about diversity issues. I’ve heard some faculty say “I wasn’t taught how to teach an anti-racism curriculum, I’m not qualified to do that.” To say that, and particularly if you are an educator is not an excuse not to do something. You’re supposed to be modeling lifelong learning! The curriculum you receive is not an excuse to not do something.
SW: Right, pick up a book like you do for other topics you don’t know enough about. That’s what you’re supposed to do in academia, research right?
AC: Some people think that a solution to students wanting a more diverse and inclusive curriculum is to develop something like an African American composers course. That’s an option. But, why can’t you integrate African American composers into the music history course or the music theory course? Why can’t you take the whole construct or the whole concept of music history or music theory and say: who are the people who have contributed to the discussion, the scholarly and the academic discourse on music history and music theory? Why can’t we reimagine how we can have everyone participating in this conversation because there are people of diverse backgrounds who contributed to the development of music history and music theory.
And if they’re not, then I think that students need to start turning towards activism, and pushing them because, again, students are, you know, consumers of education. So, students have a lot more power than I think they know they have to compel change.
So students we have our marching orders. Make some good trouble, watch Black Panther, read Dr. Cuyler’s new book, and always remember Wakanda Forever.
Good Morning all you cool cats and kittens! Did you think Tiger King references were overused and outdated? Did you think my humor got more sophisticated with my week off? Think again. In the midst of the absolute hot mess that is November 2020, I thought we could all use some light cat therapy. I just got a kitten and as a proud cat mom just beware that one of my clever hyperlinks may or may not be an unrequested picture of M’Baku, the cutest kitten that ever lived. You’re welcome. Ok ok back to the post.
NONPROFIT NOVEMBER!
You may have heard of No Shave November, you may have even heard of No Decided President November, but today I’m here to talk about Non-Profit November [pew pew pew]!! This post is dedicated to uplifting non-profit arts organizations that are DOING THE THING when it comes to diversity, equity, and inclusion work.
1. First up, an exemplary example of the Michigan Difference (I have to be honest I still don’t really know what that is, please someone, anyone, explain it to me). Recent UM grad, Jaimie Sharp is the CEO of this outright original, outstanding opera non-profit focused on inclusion and diversity:
“Opera NexGen’s mission is to provide unparalleled operatic performances with a diverse artistic community. We seek to discover the next generation of talent with our company founded on equality, equity, inclusivity, and excellence. It is our aim to cast solely on vocal ability above all other credentials. Our goal is to ensure that opera will continue to thrive for generations to come by pioneering the scope of live virtual performance.”
Check out their Benefit Gala What Did I Miss November 21st at 5pm EST
Wanna get involved? Audition for their Virtual Cosi fan tutte Concert by December 4th. Get more information about it here.
2. Dance classes may currently be on hold cause Ms. Rona isn’t here to make friends, but that hasn’t stopped this dazzling, dedicated dance non- profit from making a difference:
“We seek to increase participation of underrepresented populations in ballet programs through organizing and arranging ballet performances, photo exhibitions, and providing resources and scholarships to assist young girls in their ballet development and training.”
Looking to get involved? Are you a dancer desperate for an internship to get your parents off your back about what you’re doing with your life in the midst of the pandemic-filled, politically charged, hot mess of a world we’re currently living in? Apply for one of their internships, they’re looking for interns with dance experience!
3. BIPOC wouldn’t be pronounceable without our integral Indigenous communities. Check out this insanely innovative, impactful, and inimitable indigenous arts non-profit:
“The Native Arts and Cultures Foundation advances equity and cultural knowledge, focusing on the power of arts and collaboration to strengthen Native communities and promote positive social change with American Indian, Native Hawaiian, and Alaska Native peoples in the United States. They provide fellowships, community engagement programs, and education resources for Native communities.
“QUEER|ART was launched in 2009 to support a generation of LGBTQ+ artists that lost mentors to the AIDS Crisis of the 1980s. By fostering the confident expression of LGBTQ+ artists’ perspectives, stories, and identities, Queer|Art amplifies the voice of a population that has been historically suppressed, disenfranchised, and often overlooked by traditional institutional and economic support systems.“
Looking to get involved? Look at their really cool mentorship program here, next round of applications are open Summer of 2021. Also look into the Eva Yaa Asantewaa Grant for Queer Women(+) Dance Artists- Dance artist funding opportunity here.
5. The conscientious, compassionate, and chic Center for Arts Activism is Clearly the non-profit for you if you’re interested in connecting arts activist research with art organizations:
“The Center for Artistic Activism trains and advises organizations, artists and activists to help them increase the efficacy and affecacy of their artistic activism. We conduct innovative research to figure out what exactly efficacy and affecacy mean when it comes to artistic activist projects. And we share our trainings and research findings broadly, to provide the broadest possible access.“
6. Does social injustice make you want to grab your upright double bass and RAGE all over those unruly strings? Understandably, the upbeat Urban Playground non-profit may be calling your name:
“Urban Playground was formed out of the urge to develop a distinctively 21st century orchestra: Collaboration amongst artists from disparate backgrounds and experiences with respect to genre, and working in non-traditional venues. That changed when Eric Garner was killed by New York City police on July 17, 2014. The orchestra felt that there had to be a musical response to the broader national conversations regarding police brutality and systems of oppression. The orchestra shifted to prioritizing the works of composers of color and female composers, in order to expand and enliven the classical canon. The thriving cultural institutions of New York City will always offer outstanding performances of music from the predominately white, male European tradition; Urban Playground’s mission is to broadcast that which has not been heard, and to give opportunity to new and dormant voices.“
7. To any of my Music Education friends who’ve felt woefully neglected by the focus of my previous posts, I’m sorry I forgot about you I didn’t forget about you. This amazing, activist arts education non- profit is lit:
“We are an experimental art school teaching Black/PoC students and allies to become agents of change through art workshops on radical Black politics and public interventions that address local community needs. With socially engaged artists, designers, and educators working at the intersections of K-12/university teaching, art, design, and activism, all TBS programming is structured around our core principles of Black Love, self-determination, and wellness.”
Based in New Orleans’ 7th Ward, The Black School has really cool merch to rival Beyonce’s latest Ivy Park release. Check it out here!
8. Do phrases like “disruption”, “intersectional storytelling”, and “investing in cultural power” get you all hot and bothered? Then I have just the wonderfully women led won-profit for you (don’t judge me alliteration is hard. Pitbull rhymed Kodak with Kodak, just remember that.):
“The Center for Cultural Power is a women of color, artist-led organization, inspiring artists and culture makers to imagine a world where power is distributed equitably and where we live in harmony with nature. We support artists through fellowships, training and opportunities for activation. We create intersectional stories and content addressing issues of migration, climate, gender and racial justice. We engage groups in cultural strategy and organize artists in issues that inspire them. Together with allies, we are co-creating a field of cultural strategy with organizations and practitioners through convenings, design teams and strategy tables.“
Looking to get involved? Apply for their Disrupters Fellowship. It has a disability cohort, undocumented/ formerly undocumented cohort, and trans and nonbinary cohort
9. Did I read three articles on why I’m bad at finishing things instead of coming up with a decent alliteration for this last non-profit? Yes yes I did. Is it because I’m a Sagittarius? Is it because my moon rising is in transition and my slight tendency for scorpiatic psychosis means that I know nothing about astrology but am willing to search anywhere for a decent excuse? Is it because my cat keeps running across my laptop? Unclear, but what is clear is that this next non-profit is changing the world one play at a time:
“Theatre of the Oppressed NYC partners with community members at local organizations to form theatre troupes. These troupes devise and perform plays based on their challenges confronting economic inequality, racism, and other social, health and human rights injustices. After each performance, actors and audiences engage in theatrical brainstorming – called Forum Theatre – with the aim of catalyzing creative change on the individual, community, and political levels.“
The power of performing arts– by Johanna Kepler (Not technically a non-profit but a UM grad and an up and coming arts leader to keep your eye on!)
Guerilla Girls inc– Are they a non profit? I don’t know but they’re really really cool! I mean who doesn’t want to dress up in a gorilla mask and dismantle the patriarchy?
Meet Myah Paden, a Masters in Music student at U of M studying voice performance. Read her fabulous op-ed on her experience starting the Thorne & Thistle podcast.
This summer I started a podcast to cope.
Now, I’m not going to lie to you; 2020 has ultimately been a pretty good year for me, all things considered. If that makes you want to immediately stop reading this, I totally get it, but if it makes you feel any better, it did not start out that way. At the start of 2020, I was officially 2 months on antidepressants to treat acute symptoms of what was quickly turning into, arguably, the worst year of my life.
I graduated from my undergraduate program in August of 2019, moved across the country from the Deep South to the suburban Midwest, lived alone for the first time in my life, and started a Masters degree. I said ‘yes’ to every opportunity which happened to be exactly too many. I became consumed in grinding, and lost my sense of self in the process. By Winter semester, I was running on the fumes of clinical perfectionism.
The news cycle was pretty dismal then, too (do you remember when just Australia was on fire?). Spring break came and went, and I considered just giving it all up, moving to a foreign country, and recreating my identity anew as an eccentric young savant. I was begging the Universe for a break.
And then the world went still.
All at once, I was completely distanced from the friendships I had just barely begun to form and the life I was beginning to build. All of that disappeared in an instant, and I was alone with my thoughts and my emotional support cat dutifully keeping me company. The first month was the most surreal. Slowly, the apocalyptic haze that settled over the world began to clear, and I, too, began to settle into what would months later become “normal”. The moment I felt like I was finally lifting the thick quarantine depression from my shoulders–it was then that I heard about George Floyd.
Peep Myah’s beautiful emotional support cat
Like most Black Americans, I have been desensitized to the brutalization of Black bodies and the apathy of white America. I am, to a degree, used to the cycle of grief that plagues my community every year or so when our trauma is a hot topic. The social media “activism” that follows and its companion of false allyship–these things are not new. Watching a Black man be unjustly murdered in front of my eyes and having distant Facebook friends perpetuate the gaslighting of the Black community under the guise of playing “devil’s advocate”–this is not new either. The crucial difference between George Floyd’s execution and the litany of Black names that flood our timelines year after year was timing.
It was the lack of ability to turn away from the screen and to move on. We had to look, and for many that was the first time bearing witness to the perverse reality of Black life in this country. For me, it was a tipping point.
To be clear, this is not an article about George Floyd. This is about identity, trauma, and healing. This is about me, and it’s about us.
I hit my breaking point watching the footage and fallout of George Floyd’s murder. I had so many emotions overflowing from me and spilling over tainting the simplest things in my life. I couldn’t cry or laugh or scream. I was numb. I only watched the video once, but I saw it played out thousands of times whenever I closed my eyes. Each time, the face of George Floyd was replaced by a Black loved one–my brother, cousin, father, myself. I could feel all of the similar traumatic moments I’d seen over the years crash into me at once. To make matters worse, I lived alone, so there was no consolation for me that wasn’t filtered through a Zoom call.
Like all good creatives do, I turned to art. I opened Audacity (free recording software) and just spoke. “Um…a lot is going on right now…,” I began.
I gave into my stream of consciousness and released the emotions I had been repressing without the expectation or desire that they would go beyond my IP address. I experienced an intense relief in the process. When I finally stopped the recording, I realized in the following silence that so much of what I was feeling was helplessness, and suddenly, I no longer felt helpless.
I am not built for protest. I have too much Anxiety to be at the frontlines of a movement.
What I have is a voice and the ADHD-given ability to present full oral dissertations to an invisible audience. With those spurring me on, I flung my story into the digital void for both no one and everyone. I released all of it, and in the face of a global pandemic, white and conservative apathy, and the worst economic downturn since the Great Depression, I felt catharsis. This was my protest.
People began to reach out and share with me their feelings as well, stories which were nuanced–colored by each individual experience. More joined and months later, what began as a digital diary entry eventually grew beyond me.
The whole experience is teaching me something pivotal: our intersectional experiences, those points of life at which the multiplicity of identity and community meet, color our pain different shades of the same color, but ultimately, we are connected in the sharing of grief and hope.
So, that was June.
Since then, I decided to take a leave from school for a year. I started therapy for the first time since moving from Georgia, and I’ve started feeling my sense of self return to me after being lost for the last year and a half.
I have connected and shared conversation with truly amazing people through my growing platform like non-binary music artist and producer, London Beck, and internationally acclaimed biracial classical singer, Julia Bullock. I have deepened connections with friends and induced connections with strangers. In healing my own spirit and sharing my story, I have gained the platform to share the stories of others and facilitate empathy and healing together.
This has become the mission of my podcast Thorn & Thistle and my reason to continue: Cutting through the thorns and navigating a path through the complex griefs, joys, and experiences of life with the understanding that everyone’s path is unique. Some are steeper or more treacherous than others. All paths lead forward.
No doubt, this year has more in store for us. As a Black, neurodivergent, lesbian woman with a Bachelor’s degree in Music, I am sure to have plenty of content to keep my podcasting career afloat. I don’t mean to boast, but in the four months my show has been running, I’ve racked up a whopping four whole dollars. I guess you could say I’ve made it.
As voting rights are expressed and suppressed throughout the country, there is something intense and probably disappointing on the horizon no matter your political alignment.
Unfortunately, there really is no inspiring takeaway in this article. My story isn’t altogether profound, but it is honest.
I thought about how to write this in so many ways. I wondered if I should tell you all of my experience meeting and chatting with Julia Bullock who is one of my favorite living classical artists of the modern age. I could type my fingers numb expounding on the guiding philosophical principles which are, in some part, foundationally responsible for the creation of Thorn & Thistle (for the record: Womanism and Intersectional Feminism). I could write a very poignant piece on the plight of the Black Woman in America™ or on queering the classical space. I could talk about a lot of things because that’s what I’m good at, but to be perfectly honest, that’s what my show is for.
At its core, my podcast exists as a kind of group therapy session for BIPOC and LGBTQ+ people. I no longer create mission trip-esque content for white, cis, and/or heteronormative audiences to attempt to absolve guilt by deigning to listen whilst oggling at the natives like ravenous spectators at a human zoo.
However, on this platform, I wanted to share a story that shows me as I am: a person wrapped in complexity which uniquely colors my experience. A person attempting to do something good in a world where those in power profit from our helplessness and fear. A curious mind with a passion for storytelling and nurturing the connective tissue between myself and you.
I invite you to fearlessly follow your voice through the chaotic, thorn-covered bramble of the state of the world we’re in. Maybe you’ll find new connections or refresh old ones. Maybe you’ll start a podcast. Or maybe you’ll find, like I did, that we are never truly helpless.
-Myah Paden
EXCEL Highlights is a series where we feature students and faculty at UM that are changing the world and creating dope art! Make sure to look for the next post an interview with the amazing Arts in Color dance group. If you’d like to see your project featured, and get some free publicity, send an email to srosew@umich.edu!
Welcome to It’s Over, It’s Done, It’s Canceled part 2! If you read part 1 skip this section, if you missed it I talked about the history of canceling and how it has the potential to create a more inclusive society and elevate the voices of marginalized identities, but it also has the power to be incredibly punitive and dangerous if used frivolously. We looked at the 7 tropes of toxic canceling and I hypothesized that through intention and awareness of our actions, it might be possible to maximize canceling’s societal benefits and minimize the negative effects.
Part 2
Because I’m unimpressed with hypothetical musings that can’t be clearly disseminated to real life and actionable items, this post is dedicated to wrestling with the real life canceling cases of R Kelly, Kanye West, and Wagner. What does intentional and responsible canceling look like? Are there times when it IS morally right to condemn a person? Is there a line that an artist can cross that justifies demonization of the person, and not just the act? And what about artists who live somewhere in the nebulous gray area of morality? Artists who allegedly did truly atrocious things, but are 6 feet under– is it simply virtue-signaling to boycott their art today (Wagner, Michael Jackson…)? What about artists who haven’t directly harmed anyone but say things that conflict with my moral and ethical code? How does mental health factor into the equation? Is it possible to separate the artist from the art?
I have questions and I need answers because if it turns out that I have to stop listening to the Jackson 5, then I’m going to need to schedule some extra therapy sessions yesterday. So let’s begin (cause therapy is expensive y’all and I’m trying to save my coins)!
R Kelly- Are there times when it IS morally right to condemn a person?
Spoiler alert. YES!!! The #MuteRKelly Campaign was founded by Kenyette Barnes and Oronike Odeleye to expose and halt R Kelly’s abuse and exploitation of young black girls.1 It was quickly folded into the #metoo movement and became a public reference for cancel culture, as a social media campaign focused on deplatforming, defunding, and ending a famous artist’s career.2 The intent of the #MuteRKelly movement and his subsequent canceling was definitely not about rehabilitation. It sought to condemn a man – not just his actions or his art – something that was heavily criticized by ContraPoints in my last post. And yet it seems morally sound? Why is that? Let’s explore– where is the line that demarcates when it is morally right to condemn a person?
The 3 reasons why I believe that the #MuteRKelly movement was morally sound.
1.Clear and Transparent Organizers
It was fleshed out, organized, the leaders were known, they had a website, and were established organizers.3 This way people could check out who the organizers were and see if they had any ulterior motives.
2. They had a clear goal/ desired outcome and mission statement.
They called for a financial boycott of R Kelly’s music because they wanted him to have a fair trial and his fortune was circumventing that. R Kelly was repeatedly using his fortune to bribe, silence, and intimidate potential witnesses and their families in an effort to keep them from testifying against him.4
“R Kelly dragged out one case for 6 years, until the victim ran out of resources and dropped the case. He is able, time and time again, to use his money to get him out of a conviction. It’s not for lack of court cases against him. When families discover what’s happened, they do what they’re supposed to do. They call the police. It is the court system that is failing them and we the people that are failing them.”5
They wanted to spread awareness to how people were unknowingly supporting R Kelly’s ability to flout justice for crimes against the black community, by continuing to listen to his music.
“by financially supporting the career of a known sexual predator, they help maintain and perpetuate a system of sexual abuse against young black women. Every radio spin of his record helps him to continue to book shows, to make new music, and to amass a wealth that has insulated him from the consequences of his crimes. It’s time to take a stand on the side of justice and end any and all associations that the radio station has with him, his music and his brand.”6
Clear and specific ask from participants with rationale as to how that contributes to the cause!
3. Their ultimate goal was a fair trial in the legal sphere– not just condemning him in the court of public opinion.
They weren’t seeking judgement and execution in the public sector, but rather sought sharing the concerning pile of evidence and allegations against R Kelly with the public.7 If people were similarly concerned, they were welcome to join this movement calling for a fair trial.
They consistently provided a terrifying amount of EVIDENCE (not screenshots from people’s twitter feed), videos, witness testimonies, marriage documents, indictments, NDA’s that show that R Kelly was systematically preying on minors! This is completely different then an argument about intention from a phrase pulled out of context from a twitter thread.
The legal system failed to protect black girls (not exactly shocking), 2 black women organized to find solutions to circumvent R Kelly’s privilege and get him a fair trial, with indicting information a marginalized community who had exhausted every other option for legal recourse, made an intentional decision to boycott R Kelly’s music so that they weren’t actively aiding R Kelly evade justice by funding his career. This is restorative justice, this is seeking accountability, this is canceling at its best. I can’t say the same about the cancel Kanye movement.
Why are we canceling Kanye?
Now before I begin, I would like to note that I think it is negligent to discuss canceling Kanye without giving proper due to how Bipolar Disorder plays into this equation, but that being said it’s 2020 and we have the collective attention span of a gnat so unfortunately I don’t have the space to go into that as much as I would like. But I encourage anyone who’s interested to look at some of the resources linked at the end about Bipolar Disorder.
While R Kelly strikes me as an example of seeking restorative justice and accountability, I genuinely have so many questions about the purpose of canceling Kanye. Now part of my confusion can easily be attributed to the fact that Kanye is a known Provocateur and as such there have been numerous overlapping cancel Kanye campaigns. The most recent and arguably visible8 canceling of Kanye happened after the infamous TMZ interview where he said “when you hear about slavery for 400 years, 400 years? That sounds like a choice.”
Words do have consequences as Van Lathan the TMZ worker so eloquently put it
Let’s be clear Kanye isn’t the only person to say egregious things about slavery, and he isn’t even the worst offender. Remember when McGraw-Hill Education, one of the biggest publishing companies, printed in Texas Textbooks that the Atlantic slave trade was a “pattern of immigration” that “brought millions of [immigrant] workers to work on agricultural plantations”9?!?! Unlike Kanye, McGraw is actually charged with educating the masses, and we didn’t cancel that whole company. We simply asked them to fix their mistake.10 So why wasn’t an apology enough for Kanye?
What’s the focus of the movement? Why are we actually canceling Kanye? Is it for the slavery comment? He apologized for that. And while his comment was wild, completely unfounded, and hurtful to many– that’s been Kanye’s brand since day one. People cheered when he blurted out that “George Bush doesn’t care about black people.” People cackled and made memes when he told Taylor Swift she could never rival Beyonce (WHERE IS THE LIE??? And don’t @ me T Swift fans, I said what I said). It’s hard for me to believe that the movement to cancel Kanye is because he’s a loose cannon– that’s old news.
Literally take your pic of scandals
So is it because he recently started wearing MAGA hats and championing conservative politicians?11 Unpopular opinion: He is actually allowed to like Trump if he wants. I’m not comfortable saying I only want to listen to artists whose politics I agree with. Are you? Am I canceling him simply because I don’t agree with him and pretending it’s about something else? In Part 1 I called that Pseudo-Moralism and discussed the dangers of “disguising unflattering motivations between the guise of righteous indignation.”12
That being said, Kanye is not an example of the under resourced, marginalized identity who ContraPoints was concerned with, who will become vulnerable if they lose their internet community from cancelation. Yes the cancel Kanye twitter storm and the media’s continual mocking and denouncement of him must weigh on his mental and emotional health (to what degree I can only imagine)… but… Kanye isA BILLIONAIRE. As such, he’s insulated from losing the physical, financial, and community safety nets that might occur if he wasn’t a celebrity. If the goal is to defund, deplatform, or end Kanye’s career, his career can weather this cancelation and the fiftyleven times he says something foolish in the future. If the goal is to rehabilitate him, to ask him to repent– he already apologized.13 So what do we want? What’s the point? What has to happen for us to feel appeased?
What am I trying to say about Kanye?
Mental health aside, which again I do think should be a part of the conversation here, I think there’s something fundamentally disturbing in the canceling Kanye movement. If I don’t know what canceling Kanye even means, or why I’m doing it, how can I possibly know if I agree with it? What does it mean if we’re comfortable with canceling Kanye for the wrong reasons? What does it mean if we normalize publicly throwing our support behind ideals we can’t explain, nebulous concepts we don’t fully understand, and organizers we can’t name? What type of societal norms are we creating?
Have y’all seen this Black Mirror episode “Hated in the Nation”??? I’m just saying Black Mirror has nothing on the current events of 2020 so maybe we should be paying attention.
The reason matters. Publicly canceling someone because you’re trying to fit in with everyone else is irresponsible. Posting a black square on your instagram story without reading a single article from a news source outside of your social media feed about BLM protests is irresponsible. Becoming a mindless cog in the machine is irresponsible! Make the decision for yourself! Make sure your decisions align with your moral code, hold yourself accountable. Do it because you have thought it through and decided to, not because it’s easy to click share and get some more likes.In an example like Kanye’s, canceling’s negative effects may be limited but maybe what’s more concerning is the way in which we contribute to it without taking responsibility for our actions.
Point of Clarification
I’m not saying you have to like Kanye and I’m not saying you have to listen to his music. I don’t even know how I feel about Kanye at the moment. If you enjoyed listening to Kanye’s music because it made you feel relaxed and understood, and now his recent actions make it a negative experience for you, then by all means stop listening to that music. BUT There’s something different in choosing to stop listening to Kanye because it personally distresses you, and publicly adding to this canceling movement because it’s the in thing to do, particularly if you’re not clear on if you agree that he deserves to be canceled.
Which brings me to my last example -Wagner.
Should we be canceling Wagner and what could it look like?
Ok so for those who don’t know– Wagner in a nutshell. Wickedly talented composer in Germany in the 1800’s.14 Was really inspired by mythology15, popularized the term Gesamtkunstwerk, “a total art experience,” in opera, and innovated many of the elements that are foundational to current performance practice.16 He wanted to create a transportational, immersive, theater experience. Really cool right?
Yeah but…
He was also an anti-semite and published the article Judaism in Music in 1850 where he explained how Jews only option for redemption was what some argue translates as “assimilate” and others translate as “destruction”17 (Yikes). Wagner was anti-semitic, AND his music (which may or may not have had racist undertones) was co-opted by the Nazi movement,18 AND he made incredible innovations to theater and performance practice,19 AND he wrote some of the best operas of the classical canon. So what do we do with that?
Do we cancel Wagner and his art? Do we cancel him but save the art? Do we forgive him for being a product of his time and try to salvage the man alongside his art?
While I do think it is possible to condemn the artist and salvage the art, I think there is a responsible and intentional approach that can be taken and an irresponsible one. It seems negligent to close our eyes to the historical and modern impact of his music on our society at large. How can we actively address the change we want to see? What might intentional canceling look like?
He’s dead and I’m not worried that listening to his music now will encourage a swell in Aryan German Nazi propaganda and a new Hitler rising to power (no that might happen from xenophobia much closer to home…) but regardless, unlike with R Kelly, boycotting Wagner’s music isn’t helping fight anti-semitism in any tangible way. But what if we sought to recontextualize or reclaim his music?
What if the Met decided to donate a percentage of all proceeds from Wagner performances to the Holocaust Museum or Anti-Xenophobic non-profits? That way we’re acknowledging the impact of these works and also making positive societal change!
Final Thoughts and Musings
I’m personally past cancelling artists who are dead. I’m not actively contributing to immoral behaviors, but I don’t think that means I shouldn’t think about their impact or legacy. I’m interested in exploring how we can reallocate proceeds to address issues of restorative justice. What if all the royalties for listening to Michael Jackson’s music go towards survivors of sexual assault non profits? Then I could feel ok listening to ABC and knowing I was subverting the negative aspects of Michael Jackson’s legacy. Let’s pressure arts organizations and artists’ estates to adopt these types of policies!
It’s hard to be an artist. There’s a demand for artists to always be authentic but then to also be ideal role models, and responsible wielders of their platforms. Inherently we should realize that means artists are going to fall short, they’re going to make mistakes, because all humans do, just maybe less publicly. We as a society could afford to lend more grace and understanding. If we’re seeking rehabilitation, and growth I think it’s important to allow for the time it would take all of us to lower our defenses, listen, learn, grow, and seriously reflect on what we may have done. That can take days, or weeks, months, or even generations (I’m still waiting for my 40 acres and a mule)…
So now for the final question…
…is it possible to separate the artist from the art?
*Disclaimer #1: I’m not an expert. I’ve spent ~19 hours doing intensive google searching, 3 hours debating with friends, and most of my life thinking about what does and doesn’t sit right with me. I value experts and their opinions and so I’ve tried to include as many resources and quotes that I thought were relevant to give you the opportunity to investigate on your own (though I of course did curate the list so there’s some bias there I can’t do much about). I encourage you to disagree with me, educate me, question me, change my mind, and help me to grow. PLEASE write your thoughts in the comment section and I’ll do my best to engage with all of your ideas. I genuinely think this a deeply complex topic and I’m not done exploring it, but I have a deadline so this is what I have, please come on this journey with me!
*Disclaimer #2: I am aware of the precedent where people hide racist and hateful rhetoric behind the guise of critiquing “cancel culture” and advocating for free speech. I personally think that’s deplorable, and this is not that (I would love to be able to reclaim free speech as a less polarized topic, but that’s another post for another day).
*Disclaimer #3: I’m also aware that the internet is all about condensing context and finding sound bites and quotes that are inflammatory and controversial. I realize that I have no control over how people quote or condense this post, and that talking about any controversial issues increases the opportunity for nuance to be lost in favor of sensationalism. This is a post about nuance so to be quite honest I’m terrified of being misquoted but I think that this conversation needs to be had so I’m trusting you all to step into the abyss with me (Can you tell that I’m a performance major? The drama right?).
Cancel It
I don’t remember exactly when it happened, but one day my college career was forever changed when my friends and I discovered Joanne the Scammer. For those who haven’t seen Caucasian Living, this will be a much-needed brain break from your regularly programmed lives.
In this viral video, Joanne the Scammer sneaks into someone’s mansion, the epitome of “Caucasian Living” and gives a tour pretending that she lives there. This hilarious video had some of the most iconic quotes of my college experience. Shakespeare, Goethe, Adiche, couldn’t compete with the literary prowess that went into “welcome to my Caucasian household.” But the quote that we latched onto above all the rest was the infamous “It’s over, it’s done, it’s canceled.”
You see, when Joanne flippantly “canceled” a fancy espresso machine that refused to work, she inadvertently gave me and my friends the power to cancel anything we set our minds to. Thus commenced months of our college career where you could find us huddled together at a table, cackling loudly, as we canceled– our homework, any teachers who assigned too much reading, racism, ableism, stubbing our toes, being ghosted on dating apps (I mean who in their right minds would ghost us, their phones must have spontaneously combusted… only possibility), the word moist. Literally, any and everything was up for canceling, and we would laugh ourselves into fits finding the most ridiculous and mundane parts of life to cancel.
Short History of Canceling
Like many good things that start off on black twitter, it was only a matter of time until it got ruined…
…sigh (is there a term for twitter terminology gentrification? If not there should be).
While “canceling” was only intended to be a flippant and humorous phrase without any associated behavior or moral code, it quickly spread from black twitter to the internet at large and merged with “call-out culture”. Once the two were melded together “cancel culture” was supposedly born– where people on the internet, publicly shame, ostracize, and distance themselves from an individual who has done something deemed as socially or morally reprehensible.1
Cancel Culture. What does it even mean?
Between now and then “Cancel Culture” has become an incredibly politicized term with arguments ranging from it endangers democracy to “it doesn’t exist.”2
The Daily tackled cancel culture and described it as “a suitcase term, people will end up packing a whole variety of completely disparate terms and ideas into this one phrase,”3 this makes discussions about cancel culture incredibly frustrating at best and impossible at worst. How can one possibly know what elements are being referenced when cancel culture has been used to refer to calling people out online, boycotting celebrities, cyber bullying, the “very definition of totalitarianism”4, mob rule, the powerless seeking accountability from the powerful, doxing, swatting, seeking long-overdue accountability, educating people on places for growth interchangeably, and more. If a term can mean so many vastly different things and there’s no way to deduce someone’s intentions or an audience’s associated connotations, then from a practical perspective the word is rendered meaningless.5
So I find myself faced with a problem of trying to discuss a topic that’s riddled with confusing and charged language.
Option 1: Follow in the footsteps of famous writers and simply make up a new word to fit my own selfish purposes( I’m not saying I’m of the same caliber of Dickens or Carroll but there is a precedent).
Option 2: Stand in solidarity with my black twitter ancestors and demand reparations for this verbal gentrification. Use this platform, foolishly entrusted to me, to set out to do what no man has done before– reclaim the term “canceling.”
Needless to say I’m choosing Option 2.
So from here on out I’m talking about canceling the negative association with “cancel culture.” Any association with doxing, swatting, or the end of democracy– is over, it’s done, it’s cancelled, forget her name. I’m optimistic we can all agree that that’s less than ideal behavior and should not be condoned. The ends simply do not justify the means.
I’m interested in looking at what responsibility we have to respond to artists, living and dead, that have created art that we enjoy and have also committed acts that go against our moral codes and values. I’m interested in looking at what that response would look like in an intentional and responsible world. I’m interested in exploring how we might use “canceling,” hereby and henceforth defined as public awareness, public pressure, boycotts, shaming, and or fundraising, for good.
Benefits of Canceling
While at first glance promoting my newly reclaimed term “canceling” may seem like a shoddy euphemism for internet vigilante justice, the distinctions are important and noteworthy. First, canceling artists in terms of raising public awareness, building public pressure, establishing boycotts, and shaming has been present in human society since humans had two pennies to rub together and spend on art.
“Henceforth and forevermore ye canceled!”
While the internet and particularly social media have acted as a catalyst for the speed and reach of canceling movements, using the power of public opinion to shape society is timeless, and not inherently bad.
1. Community Growth
In a truly incredible article by Chi Luu, a computational linguist who investigates cancel culture, she writes of the societal benefits of canceling (It’s really taking all of my self-control not to copy and paste the entire article here so please, please, PLEASE check it out for yourself if you have a minute, she’s amazing!). She argues that groups calling out unacceptable behavior and publicly discussing what will and won’t be allowed is critical to community building and growth. “Public call outs may not be always what a community wants to hear. It’s certainly not nice, but it’s what needs to be said for the same values to be debated, formed, shared, and upheld by everyone who belongs to the group.”6 She even goes on to discuss how dangerous using language like “mobs, witch hunts, and vigilante justice” for groups that seek to call out or change the status quo can be.
Coded language like mobs, sends connotations that the group’s beliefs are irrational, criminal, or anti-democratic, often justifying the use of government force to suppress them. And while “no one could argue that it’s pleasant to be the bottom of a pile on, virtual or not. It’s true that people can band together for the wrong reasons, but, funnily enough, they can also band together for very good reasons.”7 Case in point: The March on Washington, The Boston Tea Party, The Women’s Suffrage Movement. All examples of rational, logical, pro-democratic groups of people banding together to use the power of public opinion to reshape society, who could easily have been labeled mobs and vigilantes.
Vigilante justice never looked so hot
2. A Platform for Marginalized Voices
One of the strongest arguments in its defense highlights how canceling gives power to the otherwise powerless — people from marginalized communities. Social media has allowed individuals from marginalized communities to influence societal norms and to directly address problematic behaviors from people whose privilege previously protected them from public critique.8 Social media undercuts gatekeeping tactics from traditional outlets of power and allows for BIPOC people to have a seat at the proverbial table. And while some argue that “canceling” has a puritanical silencing effect on public figures,9othersargue that–
“When people who believe cancel culture is a problem speak out about its supposed silencing effect… instead of reckoning with the reasons I might find certain actions or jokes dehumanizing, I’m led to one conclusion: they’d prefer I was powerless against my own oppression.”
“Cancel Culture is Not Real- At Least Not in the Way People Think” Time Magazine by Sarah Hagi
I think it is applaudable that many in our society seek to denounce racist, transphobic, ableist, sexist, and bigoted behavior, and I don’t think that would be the case if it wasn’t for canceling and social media’s ability to highlight the voices of marginalized identities.
So if canceling has such incredible potential, why does it so often go wrong? What pitfalls have given it such a bad reputation? Is there a way to learn from them so we can keep the good effects and lose the bad?
The Dangers of Canceling
Natalie Wynn is a social commentator with degrees in philosophy from Georgetown and Northwestern, who created the youtube channel ContraPoints. In ContraPoints, Natalie uses philosophy, her own life experiences, and witty humor to produce extremely nuanced, critical, and darkly humorous video essays on race, politics, gender, ethics, and other controversial topics. Wynn, a trans woman, was canceled in 2019 for a twitter controversy where she was accused of being a transmedicalist10 and made an EPIC (I use that in the literal meaning of the world), GROUNDBREAKING video on canceling in response.
It’s almost 2 hours long so while you should definitely watch it, maybe save it for date night this weekend, it will spice up your relationship and definitely give you all something to talk about beyond how your day was (I mean we’re in quarantine all of our days are the same, I know you’re desperate for something new to talk to each other about. You’re welcome).
In this sundance worthy film, which you are so going to watch later, Natalie talks about how as someone who is committed to anti-racism and anti-transphobia she is deeply concerned and increasingly disillusioned with the way canceling on social media is used to “escalate conflict instead of promote understanding,” and by how it’s “weaponized to destroy people who have made mistakes, but maybe don’t deserve to be destroyed.” She meticulously researches various examples of canceling that went wrong. Where individuals who may have made a mistake were demonized, ostracized, punished, and denied an opportunity for rehabilitation. There’s a difference between criticism and condemnation.
Natalie goes on to note that the impact of canceling, rarely has long-term effects on celebrities’ lives. Assuming that this is an example where the individual didn’t break the law but rather broke socially acceptable actions, people with privilege usually have a short period of discomfort and then their careers survive to be canceled another day. However, canceling in actuality has the most damning effects on individuals from marginalized communities who may not have any other resources when they’re canceled from their community. Natalie shares stories of sex workers and BIPOC and LGBTQIA+ people who relied on internet communities for support, whether emotional or material, and were canceled to tragic effect.
The feeling of being canceled as a vulnerable identity is described as–
“…making you feel that your very existence is inimical to the movement and that nothing can change this short of ceasing to exist. These feelings are reinforced when you are isolated from your friends as they become convinced that their association with you is similarly inimical to the Movement and to themselves. Any support of you will taint them. Eventually all your colleagues join in a chorus of condemnation which cannot be silenced, and you are reduced to a mere parody of your previous self.”
Trashing by Jo Freeman
Luckily, Natalie is a goddess come to earth in human form to show us the way (join the fan club yes we have T-shirts), so she deduces the 7 traits that define toxic and counterproductive canceling. I, as a hopeless romantic and eternal optimist, hope that if we can be aware of and avoid these problematic pitfalls, we can through intention and awareness of our actions, maximize canceling’s societal benefits and minimize the negative effects.
The 7 Destructive Tropes of Canceling
1. Presumption of Guilt
–When canceling weaponizes the progressive slogan “believe victims,” it abuses a well intentioned model that can allow the dichotomy of victim and abuser to be placed on situations that don’t warrant it. Additionally because canceling isn’t a legal proceeding, accusations can be equated to truth with little to no proof, and in the world of twitter, often zero context.
We all know no one is the victim here!
2. Abstraction
-“Abstraction replaces the specific, concrete details of a claim with a more generic statement.”-Natalie Wynn
–Social media and internet culture lend themselves to a constant collapse of context as information is shared so that the original specifics and intention are often lost as information is shared. Thus one line of a tweet, pulled from a larger thread, can be abstracted from what it literally says, into someone’s interpretation of that line’s intention.
“Girl he LOOKED at me. So you can start planning the wedding now!”
3. Essentialism
–Essentialism is when we go from criticizing a person’s actions to criticizing the person themselves. We’re not just saying they did bad things. We’re saying they’re a bad person.” – Natalie Wynn
He’s a failure!
4. Pseudo-Moralism or Pseudo-Intellectualism
–Providing a phony pretext for the call–out designed to make people feel justified in their harmful actions, and less guilty.
–The point is Pseudo-moralism is that it often disguises an intent of unflattering motivations, behind the guise of righteous indignation to be more palatable to a wider audience, a dangerous combination.
“I know slavery sucks but it’s God’s will for you all.” (*sigh* Shall we create a drinking game for every time the bible is problematically used to oppress people? Too far? I’m a pastor’s kid, do I get a free pass? What if we drink communion wine? Ok ok I take it back)
5. No Forgiveness
–What is the point of canceling again? To hold people accountable? To educate people with privilege on how their ignorance is “dehumanizing” to others’ existence? So then the ultimate goal would logically be an apology and changed behavior in the future.
–However Natalie describes dangerous trope number 5 where apologies are dismissed as insincere, whether convincingly written or delivered, and past mistakes are compounded together while ignoring any growth or apologies.
6. Transitive Property of Cancellation
–“Cancellation is infectious. If you associate with a canceled person, the cancellation rubs off. It’s like gonorrhea, except doxycycline won’t save you this time sweetie.” – Natalie Wynn
Do you all remember how upset people got when Chance the Rapper tried to support his friend Kanye through rough times? People tried to cancel Chance! Chance!?!? He has a heart of gold, he wrote a song about how much he loves his grandma! But the transitive property of canceling says he must be thrown in the trash as well.
7. Dualism
–Binary thinking means people are either good or bad. We should “interpret that [any mistake made] as the mask slipping, as a momentary glimpse of their essential wickedness.”
–“All bad people are equally bad.” so associating with someone who was cancelled is as bad as having done the action yourself.
Sometimes people aren’t all good or all bad. Adam Driver I am LIVING for your shades of gray!
If you disagree, have questions with, or want to discuss any of these tropes. WATCH THE VIDEO. This post is already way too long and my fingers are tired so I can’t get anymore into it but here is the link again (wink, wink, hint, hint, nudge, nudge. Watch it for yourself)!
But What Does It All Mean?
So maybe the frivolous canceling of my teachers, my homework, my hinge dates, has to give way to a more responsible model. But what does that look like concretely? I have questions! Are there times when it IS morally right to condemn a person? Is there a line that an artist can cross that justifies demonization of the person, and not just the act (I’m looking at you R Kelly)? Do I have to stop listening to Michael Jackson and boycott any Met productions of Wagner’s ring cycle even though they’re dead? Is it possible to separate the artist from the art?
Stay tuned for Part 2 where I will answer all these questions or die trying (cue nervous laughter, good thing I never bite off more than I can chew. As a grad student and a supposed adult I’m really glad I learned how to stop overpromising, otherwise these next two weeks could be really stressful for me).
If somehow you made it to the end of this incredibly long post and still want more (you go glen coco), here are all the articles I referenced and a bunch of articles I wasn’t able to fit into this post but had really interesting points to add to this discussion. Check them out!
This summer was a lot. That may be the understatement of the year. Between George Floyd, BLM, Covid, and Killer Hornets, my social media feeds were POPPING. Almost overnight I found myself surrounded by the term Anti-Racist. Angela Davis’ “In a racist society, it is not enough to be non-racist, we must be antiracist,” was suddenly the hashtag in everybody’s insta stories; articles in the NYT described the best anti-racist training programs; my inbox was flooded with anti-racist art events and talks, and I looked up and realized that I didn’t know what anti-racist meant and had no clue what anti-racist art entailed.
As a black woman and a self-proclaimed activist I was horrified and ashamed by this realization. Was I exempt just by being a black female? Was this something only for my well-meaning white friends? Was this another social media fad like the instagram blackout that didn’t really mean anything in actuality and would burn out after 24 hours? And what in the world was Anti-Racist Art?
So as a good millennial who is crippled by fear at the notion of having to ask a real live person something, I turned to the internet. I googled “What is anti-racist art” and the all-knowing search engine that has 431 million results for “why can’t I own a Canadian” had nothing. The results kept linking me to large arts organizations’ statements of support of diversity and inclusion, but nothing about the art itself.
So I bit the bullet. I girded my loins, put on my big girl pants, and picked up my phone and called someone other than my mom for help. Just kidding I sent an email, do you think I’m a boomer or something! I asked the EXCEL team 2 questions about anti-racist art and they blew my mind with their responses. God I love my job.
What does Anti-Racist Art mean to you?
Anti-racist art confronts racism head on, challenges accepted norms, and centers on BIPOC artists and their stories.-Caitlin
It sounds great for arts administrators, composers and those who plan to make their own works: just pick more art that focuses on BIPOC stories and artists. But for many of us, we don’t have much control over the content of the art we got hired to make. What does confronting racism head on look like for a violinist who signs a contract with the Detroit Symphony Orchestra? What about a latinx actress who keeps getting TypeCaste (see what I did there) as maid roles?
The reality for many of us is that while a career in the arts may have “freed” us to follow our passions, many of us feel “bound” to the will of casting agents, artistic directors, conductors, and the incredibly eurocentric focus of classical art. So what does anti-racist art mean for the rest of us?
To me, anti-racist art means creating work that strives to be inclusive and seeks to challenge the audience to think deeper about their own anti-racist agendas. -Kayla
To me, anti-racist art is art that takes into consideration the responsibility we all have to stand up for the equality of people of all races, particularly Black people and artists in present day America. Anti-racist art tells stories that the artist can genuinely tell from their own experiences and heritage (i.e., the art does not appropriate another person’s culture). Anti-racist art considers accessibility and audience from a position of equity: Who is this work for? Who will it affect, positively or negatively? How can audiences/viewers access this art (e.g., physically, financially, etc.)? Anti-racist art uplifts those fighting for equity, and this can occur in many ways, from direct storytelling to promotional materials. -Gala
This focus on audience strikes me as a really important and often missed opportunity. I know as a perpetually overbooked and sleep-deprived student myself, that sometimes in our attempt to simply get everything technically ready and learned, we skip considering audience engagement. But taking steps to diversify the audience base of performances we are a part of is something that we can all do. We have more agency than we allow ourselves. Whether that’s putting pressure on the organizations we are a part of to prioritize outreach and accessibility or taking it into our own hands and using social media and emails to publicize events in more inclusive circles, we have options. And while the most elitist organizations may not take those steps themselves, if we reach out as individual artists and create connections and partnerships with targeted communities, I can’t imagine any theater or hall turning their nose up at additional ticket sales.
2. Do you think art has a responsibility to be socially responsible or is it ok for it to simply entertain?
I don’t think art has to have a responsibility to be socially responsible, unless the intent of the work is to do so.- Kayla
I don’t know that art itself necessarily has a responsibility, but I believe that artists should always be mindful of the impact that their work can have. I also believe that art can serve multiple purposes at once and may be entertainment for some, but meaningful and purposeful on a larger scale for others. -Melissa
Art has power. There’a a reason art is targeted in almost all dictatorships and countries trying to suppress dissent. With power comes great responsibility but what is art responsible to? Art can be used to cause great harm. Jeffrey Mason talks about this power of art within the context of theater and fiction and he says that,
“Both myth and theater create fictions that can displace the actualities– the putative referents– that inspire them. Any fictional process, through selection and interpretation, both obscures and reveals its subject… Thus, the actor [artist] is a virtual mythmaker, one who can either reinforce or challenge the fictions that the audience cherishes.”
That’s a lot of responsibility. I wish more artists thought about their role in creating, perpetrating, or challenging the narratives they’re apart of.
Art DOES have the responsibility to be socially responsible, especially in this day and age. As artists, we have an opportunity and responsibility to use our voice to be a part of the conversation: the change. Not making the effort to learn nor understand the extremity of the state of the world and call to anti-racist action puts you on the side of the oppressor, neutrality is oppression. Knowledge IS power, speak up and speak loud, generally AND artistically. -Karen
Once we start explicitly adding ideology to art, the line between art and propaganda begins to blur. While of course we can attempt to influence people towards beneficial outcomes, what does it mean to try to persuade an audience? How do we hold ourselves accountable? Those seem to be important questions to have answers to before we jump in headfirst (Do I get a sticker for talking about propaganda and not bringing up the Nazi’s? I mean that would have been a perfect opportunity to drop a Bertolt Brecht reference but I restrained myself).
While the revolutionary possibilities are exactly what calls me to art, I don’t know that I feel comfortable “requiring” all artists to follow suit (I have no power to require anything anyways so I’m not sure what I’m concerned about lol). What about beauty? What about art that tries to capture and reflect nature and emotions? What about art that makes us laugh? That matters too.
We all need art in our lives for individual reasons, which we should recognize will fluctuate over time and content. Sometimes I want to delve into “serious” art, and sometimes I need to escape through “entertainment.” And of course, art-making can achieve both ends at once — so much powerful, socially-driven work can also be compellingly engaging, and yes, even fun (see my recommendations below)! And yet, in my view, just because a work of art can be aimed at escapism doesn’t mean we can excuse artistic creators from the social responsibilities in the context of that expression, whether we are talking about representation, racial inequity, or any other social issue that is relevant to the story. I also personally think the “escapist” stories that do justice to real-life contexts often are more compelling stories and, perhaps, more likely to resonate with audiences not just in terms of niche interest, but in the broadest sense. -Jonathan
Exactly! What do we do when art that’s seen as “feel good” entertainment, perpetuates violence on marginalized communities (I’m looking at you Porgy and Bess)? Escapism and entertainment is necessary, but does that give a free pass on being socially conscious?
I don’t think these two categories are mutually exclusive! I think socially responsible art definitely can be entertaining and enjoyable. However, the downside to a work originating only from the desire to have it entertain would be that perhaps the creator is not conscious of when a trope or joke is at the expense of a marginalized group, or how the production of the art could be insensitive or harmful. So I guess as I’m typing this, I’m realizing that my true hope is that all art be created from a caring, questioning, intentional perspective. And the result of that reflection is going to look different to different artists. A quote by Nina Simone comes to mind here: “An artist’s duty, as far as I’m concerned, is to reflect the times.” -Gala
What Do I Think?
So what do I think? I hope that all artists try to be good stewards of the power of art. I think that great art does reflect the times, that it’s a reflection of society, but if our polarized world tells us anything, it tells us that we all have very different views of what that looks like. I think all humans have a responsibility to protect and care for each other, and I think we need to continually push ourselves to see who we are labeling as “other” and thus not our responsibility. I think if we see anti-racism as helping us to better care for each other, and we happen to also identify as artists, than we have a responsibility to be mindful that the art we create aligns with our own values and moral codes. We need to be aware of and feel comfortable standing behind the ideology inherent in our art. I’m not saying we have to be perfect or all knowing. Times change, people grow, opinions shift, and I once thought denim on denim was chic, but we should be willing to engage, discuss, learn, and push ourselves out of our comfort zones. I think I now have way more questions than answers, but maybe just maybe as I investigate these topics in this series I’ll find some more clarity. Stay Tuned!
Want to do more exploring? Here are the EXCEL Team’s recommendations for our favorite artists creating anti-racist art or at least what it means to us.
Pianist, scholar, and educator, Dr. Leah Claiborne, promotes diversity in the arts by championing piano music by Black composers in her performances, research, and teaching. Dr. Claiborne received her undergraduate degree from Manhattan School of Music where she received the Josephine C. Whitford graduation award. She received her Masters of Music and Doctorate of Musical Arts degrees from the University of Michigan. Dr. Claiborne currently teaches piano and Music of the African Diaspora at the University of the District of Columbia
Sydnie L. Mosley is an artist-activist and educator who works in communities to organize for gender and racial justice through experiential dance performance with her dance-theater collective Sydnie L. Mosley Dances. She is a Bessie Award-winning performer who danced with Christal Brown’s INSPIRIT, improvises with the skeleton architecture collective, and continues to appear as a guest artist with the Brooklyn Ballet. Among her recognitions and funding, she received a special citation from Mayor Bill de Blasio and First Lady Chirlane McCray for using her talents in dance to fuel social change. An advocate for the field, she sits on the Dance/NYC Advisory Committee.
From Leah:
Breaking Points, Breakthroughs
Every person has a breaking point. These are the moments in your life where you make a decision that you will no longer continue to accept the current state of events. One of those breaking points for me came at an unusual time in my academic career, but nonetheless, it became the most pivotal and perfect time for reaching a breaking point, or should I say, breakthrough.
In 2015, I began the DMA program at the University of Michigan in piano performance and pedagogy. It was also the same year that Freddy Grey was murdered in Baltimore. Baltimore: my family’s pride and joy of a city. Freddy Grey was murdered for being Black in Baltimore. This truly “hit home” for me, and although I was outraged and wanted to join my friends in protests, I had to take a moment of pause to ask myself, “what abilities do I even possess to effect some form of change to address the racial disparities of Black people in America?” My breaking point with toiling with the challenge of how to create impactful change became my breakthrough.
For me, I knew I had to focus my time and talents on uplifting the next generation of Black youth through a vehicle that was true to me- music. More specifically, piano pedagogy. Through the wonderful support of my advisor, Dr. John Ellis who was Dean of partnerships and the mentorship of Dr. Willis Patterson, founder of Our Own Thing Music Program, I created a community piano program that allowed youth in Ypsilanti and Ann Arbor to come to the University of Michigan SMTD to study classical piano music for free each week while also learning about the important contributions that African American composers have had in the field of classical music.
At the time, I felt that I wanted to give whatever talents I possessed to make an impactful change in the community that I currently lived in- and I believe that absolutely happened. Students in this program grew and expressed themselves each week in some of the most powerful ways that solidified my quest for becoming a pedagogue.
Now looking back, I realize what I actually was doing was creating a space and a world for the next generation that did not exist for me.
I never grew up having teachers who looked like me, nor did I study music by composers who looked like me. While attending the University of Michigan with all of its wonderful faculty, not a single faculty member for any of my classes was Black, nor were there any other Black students enrolled in the classical piano department during my six years of study at this institution. I desperately needed to allow the next generation to know that there are people who look like you who have done incredible life changing work in this field of classical piano music. I needed these students to know every week that they belonged in this space, at this school, in this community, in this world. Finally, I needed these children to know that whatever rooms they walk in throughout their lives, they have a beautiful voice that deserves to be heard.
When I think about the word “Visionary” I believe it is a term we all have the ability to possess. For me, a visionary is someone who can see a brighter future and acts in the present as if that future is now. We all must take our talents and gifts and act now because America has passed its breaking point. I believe what we are experiencing right now in this country is the realization that America has reached its breaking point, or dare I say, breakthrough. What an incredibly pivotal and perfect time for all visionaries to act- and we must act now.
From Sydnie:
Sydnie L. Mosley Dances (SLMDances), the dance-theater collective I founded and run, found our footing in our art-making practice creating community-engaged and accountable works. Our mission — to work in communities to organize for gender and racial justice through experiential dance performance — began to manifest in 2011 when we started developing The Window Sex Project. Born out of my own desire to walk down the street and not feel like I was being “window shopped” like a mannequin or other sexual object on display, I used my dance-making practice to organize amongst young adult women in my Harlem neighborhood to create space to share our stories, celebrate our bodies, and offer one another resources and strategies to assert our humanity and liberation in public space.
Since developing The Window Sex Project, I have embarked on an ongoing journey of deepening my practice as a community-accountable artist. Here are five points of consideration that I follow when moving from idea to action with any community-engaged art project, along with some resources that have helped me think more deeply about each.
ONE: An Invitation
adrienne maree brown teaches us that “Relationships are everything.” SLMDances only considers art-making in communities that we have a personal stake in, or where we have been explicitly offered an invitation to collaborate. We understand ourselves in relationship to those various communities that we are rooted in; we nurture and remain accountable to them through collaboration. Any community we engage with is involved at every level of process. We believe that mutually beneficial partnerships are the mode to serve and uplift the needs and wants of all those involved.
“Deep listening is a whole body process. It is a type of fact gathering that requires cultural organizers commit to a community’s cultural practices for an extended period of time. Deep listening requires multiple conversations, community walks, interviews, meditation, and cultural participation without judgment, recommendation, evaluation or expectation.”
As a movement artist, I have developed a physical practice so that I know what it means in my pores and nerve-endings to listen to community with my whole body. When you are a community artist, it is as if you are navigating your collaboration with eyes closed. You don’t move until the community moves you; until you feel their touch, nudge, pull, push. You are in total consideration of their needs and concerns. Based on your participatory listening, what do you know they want and need? Sometimes community will move in a way that you hadn’t planned for or in a way you were not interested in going. You can follow the impulse and see where the work takes you. If it’s not for your leadership and skill set, pass the work onto others who are better equipped to follow community needs/requests and be in dialogue about how/when/why your collaboration with the community needs to transition.
As artists, part of what allows us to create is who is in our networks and the resources we share with one another. This way in which artists often function can model a utopia of mutual care and aid for our communities. Working from a place of abundance, we already have everything we need.
We understand that money is not the only resource. If you consider what resources you REALLY need, you might come to discover you don’t need money for event space rental, when in fact a collaborator has access to event space and can offer it to you free of charge.
We understand that those who hold positions of leadership in formal structures (i.e. the Executive Director of an organization) might not be the most important stakeholder or person who holds the most power to get your work done (i.e. the custodian with the keys to let you in the building).
As an art maker, it is also urgent to consider how your skills in your practice lend itself to working on this particular project. As a dancer, I am always asking: How is this work embodied? What tools do I have as a mover that may be essential to this work? How can dances do the things we need them to do? How can my dance practice not just present a problem, but creatively solve a problem?
Mapping your assets and engaging in ongoing processes to exchange resources is essential to meeting the needs of all collaborators. Check out this resource for Asset Mapping by Diane Dorfman.
FOUR: Collaboration in Project Design and Execution
It is essential to define shared values, objectives, and communication practices when relationship building with community members. This means defining and clearly articulating your own values before entering into conversations with collaborators to see where your values intersect. SLMDances begins all of our work with an articulation of our values: Dreaming, Humanity, Community, Activism, Learning, and Transparency. We have found that naming our values upfront helps us to engage in healthy collaborations more frequently. Shared values often leads to clearly defining shared objectives to fulfill mutual missions.
Next, no partnership is functional without the definition of roles and clear communication. How do you make decisions? How is everyone involved in the making? How is feedback facilitated? What are your boundaries? One of my favorite rules of thumb is that everyone has a job. There is space for everyone to contribute and in fact, the work will be better when we are working collectively. Defining the processes for working together as a collective are just as important, if not more important, than executing the project itself.
How have you and your collaborators defined success? What is the life of the project beyond its first iteration? What are your plans for evaluation and assessment? How are you documenting the process throughout? How will you maintain an archive of your documentation? These are just a few questions to consider for the sustainability of your work.
For SLMDances, the projects we choose to engage in are long term — whether it is responding to sexual harassment in public spaces with The Window Sex Project, or addressing economic justice in the NYC dance field through our work BodyBusiness. We are clear that sustained, responsive creative practice for the socio-political issues we are invested in will strategically move our communities toward a more liberated and just world for us all.
Katherine Banks is a Midwest based actor and educator. Last season, she reprised her role as Joanne in Mindhunter (Netflix) directed by David Fincher. She performed Every Brilliant Thing at Tipping Point Theatre(Wilde Award – Best Performance in a One Person Show). In Chicago, Katherine appeared in the Jeff Award winning Men Should Weep with Griffin Theatre and in the sold-out production of She Kills Monsters at the Steppenwolf Garage. Katherine teaches at Greenhills Middle School in Ann Arbor and works as a freelance corporate spokesperson and communication trainer. She is a proud graduate of the University of Michigan.
Bill Kalinkos, clarinetist, has been called “a powerhouse” (San Francisco Chronicle), “a superb performer” (San Jose Mercury News), and his playing has been lauded as “ethereal, yet grounded” (Oakland Tribune). His performance of Aaron Copland’s Concerto was praised in the Oakland Tribune: “Kalinkos played casually, with the mysterious ease one hears in an accomplished musician.” Bill enjoys a diverse musical career as a member of critically acclaimed groups such as Alarm Will Sound, Ensemble Signal, Deviant Septet, Eco Ensemble, and Splinter Reeds. Recognized by the Washington Post as a “notable contemporary music specialist,” he has been fortunate enough to work with and premiere pieces by many renowned composers. Bill was most recently featured on the New York Philharmonic’s “Nightcap” series performing Yann Robin’s “Art of Metal II” for solo contrabass clarinet and electronics. As an orchestral player, he is the principal clarinetist of the Oakland Symphony, a member of both IRIS Orchestra and the New Hampshire Music Festival Orchestra, and he has performed with The Philadelphia Orchestra, The Cleveland Orchestra, and the Kansas City Symphony. Bill has served on the faculties of the University of Missouri and the University of California at Santa Cruz and Berkeley. As a recording artist, he can be heard on the Cantaloupe, Nonesuch, Euroarts, Naxos, Mode, Orange Mountain, Albany Records, Deutsche Gramophon, and Harmonia Mundi labels.
From Katherine:
When I was a BFA acting major at the University of Michigan, I received many pieces of great advice that I still reflect upon when thinking about my craft and my career, but today, I’d like to share the most questionable piece of advice a professor ever gave me: “If you can do anything else, anything at all, then go do that thing, because acting is so, so hard.” I understand the good intentions behind this sentiment. (I really do.) Acting teachers seek to instill a reverence for the craft, to nurture a seriousness of purpose, and to prepare students for the challenges of a career that not only requires you to expose your most vulnerable self in order to make art but also asks casting directors, agents, and critics to place a value on your raw, naked self. Also, there aren’t a lot of jobs. Totally! Acting is difficult, but I also think that the all in or bust model is outdated and ultimately does not help a young person fully expand into their unique self. It denies the actor’s identity as an entrepreneur, as a family member, and as a complex artist with multiple channels available for expression. All in or bust sets you up for a single path towards success, but that path does not work for every person, and as we’ve seen in the last few months the path can quickly disappear.
Let me clarify: I’m all in for you following your dreams. Please do add “make Broadway debut” and “star in episodic” to your vision board, but what happens when Broadway shuts down for a year? What happens when the TV industry isn’t making space for your gifts? Well, here’s what I don’t want to happen: I don’t want you to quit because your career doesn’t currently look like you had planned five years ago. I don’t want you to quit because your career doesn’t look like somebody else’s. I don’t want you to devalue yourself or dim your brilliance. My advice to you: Don’t quit, but do re-define what it is that you were thinking about quitting in the first place. Broaden your identity from actor to artist,then figure out how you (unique and glorious YOU) can be that.
There isn’t one right way to frame a portfolio of artistic pursuits. (Have you figured out that no single right way is a personal favorite of mine?). You might spend time crafting an artist’s statement or a values list that provides clues as to how you want to spend your time and energy. You might come up with an umbrella theme or line of inquiry. You can try on identities and collect those that are true to you and support your mission and reject those that don’t serve you in this moment.
I am an artist. That can be broken down into actor, educator, and communications specialist, and further broken down into theatre actor, on-camera actor, voiceover artist, classroom teacher, teaching artist, drama teacher, dance teacher, writing tutor, corporate trainer, corporate presenter, and speech coach. Through all of these jobs, I’ve found a web of interconnected ways to work that help me explore my changing lines of artistic inquiry. How do we strive toward clarity and specificity in expression? How is an individual able to reveal their unique point of view in service of an ensemble or greater community? These guiding questions help me when I’m designing curriculum for a preschool ballet class and they help me when I’m coaching a sales representative on how to make connections with customers.
In cataloguing the actors I know who work a great deal in theatre and film, I find a career coach, an event planner, a sommelier, a home stager, a web designer and video editor, and multiple arts organization administrators and fundraisers. Of these people, none of them refer to their non-traditional acting work as a 9-to-5 or a survival job because that’s not what it is to them. They are artists who have been able to find a wide array of channels for their creativity.
It is certainly a challenging time to explore how you want to relate to the world as an artist when many of the aforementioned channels for creativity have been temporarily shut off or limited. I was watching a webinar recently in which an actor expressed fear about aging out of certain parts that she wanted to play before the pandemic is over and another actor discussed his grief at losing all of the positive momentum he had gained before productions shut down. For actors, there was so little in our control before the pandemic and now there’s even less. It stinks and I’m sorry.
In pondering what I can control right now, I’ve been thinking a great deal about starting at the end of my now. Educators will be familiar with backwards design, the approach to curriculum creation that asks teachers to consider desired learning outcomes first and then work backwards to choose instructional methods. Similarly, many theatre artists are familiar with the text Backwards & Forwards, which teaches you how to read a play starting at the end and working backwards to understand how it can be shaped onstage. As a classroom drama teacher who had to transfer my instruction to the remote sphere, my goals for my students didn’t change, but the instructional methods certainly did. As a theatre artist, perhaps performing in stageplays is your endgame, but I encourage you to find a deeper objective. Why do you want to do theatre in the first place and how do you fulfill that desire right now? Art is still happening, so how are you going to go about exploring the human condition even when we can’t gather in the same room?
So many questions, so few answers, but I would like to leave you with two things:
What am I going to do now? That is a question that has frequently occupied my mind since I played my last live, in-person concert on February 29th in Berkeley, California. I have spent most of my adult life building a unique career in music that, in turn, has shaped my life – where I’ve lived, where I’ve traveled, who I’ve collaborated with. In the past few years, it was not uncommon for me to spend somewhere between a third to half of the year on the road. I left a university teaching position I had occupied for two years and turned down another tenure-track teaching position that was offered to me. Instead, I spent the next year traveling from gig to gig, not even needing to pay rent. Now, there are no gigs. What am I going to do now?
My portfolio career began to develop organically during my undergraduate studies. A breakthrough moment playing a piece by Xenakis in the new music ensemble opened my eyes and ears to the existence of sound worlds previously unknown to me. Enthusiastically embracing these sound worlds led to collaboration with so many inspiring musicians and composers, many of whom I am fortunate enough to call my friends and colleagues today. Alarm Will Sound, Splinter Reeds, Deviant Septet, Oakland Symphony, IRIS Orchestra, New Hampshire Music Festival – these are a few of my musical homes. They are places that embrace adaptability and musical openness. I am happiest when playing live music with these folks and others in as many different scenarios as possible. But now, how do we play live music together? What are we going to do now?
We’re going to figure out ways to continue sharing music with whomever will listen to us. We are digging through our archives to find music to share with our followers. We are creating silly music videos that we had been talking about making for years but now finally have the time to do so. We are attempting to raise money so that we can continue to commission works from people whose work we admire. We are figuring out how to get every member of an 18-person band set up at home with decent audio gear and attempting to play music together, in real time. As someone who is technologically averse, absent on social media, and dislikes looking at screens, making music during Covid times has been challenging for me. I will continue to try to adapt. I know that I can rely on my collaborators to push me in the right direction.
On May 17th, my wife and I welcomed our daughter Amelia into the world. She is our first child and has made these few months in lockdown not just bearable, but incredibly enjoyable. Being stuck at home with nothing else to do is probably the best time to have a newborn. Life has slowed down and become much simpler. Having the space to focus solely on life’s essentials is a joy. For instance, not traveling to play in a festival in July means being able to tend to the garden in the backyard. Doing some volunteer work in the past few weeks has me thinking about ways to become more involved in the community where I live. What am I going to do now? In actuality, that question has always occupied my mind; it has shaped the career which has shaped my life. So I will continue to do what I have always tried to do: see what the future has in store for us, adapt as needed, and move forward with lots of help from my friends.
Currently serving as Composer-in-Residence with the storied Philadelphia Orchestra and included in the Washington Post’s list of the 35 most significant women composers in history, identity has always been at the center of composer/pianist Gabriela Lena Frank‘s music. Born in Berkeley, California (September, 1972), to a mother of mixed Peruvian/Chinese ancestry and a father of Lithuanian/Jewish descent, Gabriela explores her multicultural American heritage through her compositions. In 2017, Gabriela founded the award-winning Gabriela Lena Frank Creative Academy of Music, a non-profit training institution held on her two rural properties in Boonville, CA for emerging composers from a vast array of demographics and aesthetics.
It began in a practice room
If ever there was a time for social activism, this would be it: Thus far, 2020 has birthed a planet-wide pandemic, cataclysmic economic decline, and a chilling reckoning with historically-embedded racial violence. In my native California, we also face a predicted worse-than-usual fire season, already made hellish these past three years from climate crisis which ominously predicts more pandemics in the future.
Yet, it wasn’t until last week when my husband and I buried Beau, our canine companion and surrogate son of eleven years, that I finally lost it. Digging a spot on our mountainous property and burying our gentle giant, a golden-hued Pyrenees mix with an impossibly worried brow, I cried so much that I gave myself hives. At my age, that’s a particularly demoralizing first. And one that somehow elicited a weak chuckle: Now 2020 is taking our boy, too. What else can go wrong?
While embers may burn in our civic psyche, it may take large and unmistakable events symptomatic of unbelievable times to stir one to change life habits. I am seeing this in beloved friends, spurred by recent social unrest, chagrined to realize how indebted their safety and overall good fortune are to white privilege set at our nation’s founding. When inequity hums along at an insidiously quieter pace, however, and criminality is not in plain view, social activism may, too, burn privately, witnessed only by a few.
My first day as a freshman music composition major proved that to me with an early painful lesson that seared into my soul. I was seventeen, blessed to enroll at a music conservatory, having only discovered that such institutions even existed the year before. Thrilled, I spent the morning wandering the practice halls of a brand new state-of-the-art building (They built this just for me!) before selecting a room with a Steinway and a view. After warming up, I placed Ravel’s Jeux d’eau on the stand, beginning on page three with the perilously wide black-note arpeggios that only flow if anchored by a relaxed thumb.
I was mesmerized, so much so that when the door flew open to reveal a scolding faculty piano professor, my brain wasn’t able to immediately skip track —“What are you doing here? What are you doing on that instrument? I’ll be talking to your supervisor!” Dumbfounded, I realized he’d seen me through the small window in the door, and mistook me for cleaning staff, one of the largely Mexican workers who flitted in the backdrop of the school as shadows. My skin color and build has always carried the imprint of Latin America, from which my mother hails, and which didn’t pass the professor’s litmus test for inclusion.
I was calm. And I explained. He apologized, angry. I thought, And would it be so bad if I were indeed a cleaning lady, enchanted by the instrument?
Decades have passed since that initiation by fire when I learned that simply by existing, I might be a phenomenon. It took some years to realize that by moving beyond existing to excelling, I was doing the work of activism, rare as Latinas were who brought their heritage into a western classical canon while, say, quietly volunteering at a men’s prison with a considerable Latino population. Yet more years passed before I learned that widely impactful activism, affecting people beyond my small sphere, meant doing the work on as public a stage as possible, and, crucially, paying it forward to other artist-citizens — Three years ago, I formed a music academy that supports emerging composers from a vast array of demographics and aesthetics while offering an urgently healthier way to approach Mother Earth. It has been a transformative experience, more than equal to my professional successes.
Activism, for me? It began in a practice room and stretches into 2020, a simply unbelievable year, one for the history books. My internal compass tells me the work isn’t done (Why, you think struggle is for the past?) and as I’ve stepped into the second half of my life, I’m resolved to retain my humor and joy through it all. It is the best possible work, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.
EXCEL Log 