Abstract
George Floyd’s murder at the hands of police earlier this year has catalyzed a social justice movement unlike any since the Civil Rights Movement of the 1950s and 1960s. Along with the deaths of Ahmaud Arbery and Breonna Taylor, Floyd’s murder re-awakened our collective conscience and consciousness, sparking worldwide demonstrations confronting the systemic injustices that have long plagued black communities and other communities of color. In addition to grassroots demonstrations, organizations from seemingly all corners of society spoke out in support of the ideals of racial equality. ASTA (n.d.) was among these groups, stating that our professional community would “commit to advancing the conversation, to engaging in deep reflection, and to doing the internal and external work necessary to effect change.”
This article represents a step in that conversation’s advancement. Much of this discussion may feel like a dialing-back of sorts, as I attempt to briefly describe racism conceptually. I do so for three reasons. First, my intent in spelling out a few essentials of what racism entails is to help mitigate the often-visceral impact of the term’s very utterance, and to help us better navigate the discomfort that music educators experience in direct discussions of race (Bradley 2007). Second, it is only through a well-defined understanding of racism that we can recognize its antidote: antiracism. The second part of this article will discuss ways in which we can advance antiracist policies and actions within our spheres of influence—particularly, within school orchestra settings at the secondary level.
I envision this essay as merely an entry point for continuing dialogue, the import of which extends beyond the present political moment. As members of a profession that operates within both the educational and artistic realms, we have a responsibility to the students and communities we serve to engage in career-long efforts of examining and re-examining our field and our roles within it, actively promoting antiracist ideals throughout our work.
Background
Conceptualizing Racism
The lens through which I discuss racism and antiracism is framed primarily by two pieces of recent scholarship: Robin DiAngelo’s (2018) White Fragility, and Ibram X. Kendi’s (2019) How to Be an Antiracist. These books complement each other in a way that is advantageous for our field, addressing similar themes through different emphases. DiAngelo’s work is especially focused on issues that inhibit white people from engaging in frank conversations about race. This is relevant to the string teaching profession, given the overwhelming majority of school orchestra teachers who self-identify as white (Smith, Mick, and Alexander 2018). Kendi traces historical foundations through present day to illustrate how “[r]acism is a marriage of racist policies and racist ideas that produces and normalizes racial inequities” (17). In this article, I discuss several ways in which these inequalities manifest themselves in music education contexts.
“I envision this essay as merely an entry point for continuing dialogue, the import of which extends beyond the present political moment.”
American racism is based on establishing political, social, and economic power differentials that favor the interests of whiteness. Racism seeks to establish whiteness as the superior ideal, and non-whiteness as the inferior “other.” Both DiAngelo (2018) and Kendi (2019) dive deeply into how racism serves to perpetuate white dominance by reinforcing practices and discourse that subconsciously convince each of us that to be white in America is synonymous with being quintessentially American. Therefore, to the extent that an individual does not reflect the ideal of whiteness, that person does not enjoy the same presumption of belonging within American society, or the presumption of equal access to the benefits and promises of Americanism. As both authors discuss, this broader view of socially inscribed racism is important in countering a conventional wisdom that confines racism to the intentional, hate-based actions or attitudes of individuals. Limiting the concept of racism to acts of bigoted malice ignores the harmful impacts of unconscious bias, and thus allows the practices that create those impacts to perpetuate. As DiAngelo (2018) explains, racism extends well beyond a “good/bad” binary whereby a person can consider themselves free of racism (“good”) based solely upon an absence of ill will (see especially DiAngelo’s chapter on “The Good/Bad Binary,” pp. 71–87).
Kendi (2019) devotes particular attention to the elevation of false but powerful racist ideas established over centuries. These ideas have sought to project white people as superior to people of color—whether by virtue of biology, intellect, or behavior. In one example, the author challenges the notion that the overrepresentation of black people in prison populations is somehow due to higher levels of criminality among members of the black community. In fact, Kendi traces the inequity to root causes such as sentencing practices that incarcerate black people at higher rates and for longer terms (see pp. 24–26). Kendi (2019) and DiAngelo (2018) explain that racist ideas tend to retroactively follow the establishment of racist policies, as a means of justifying those policies and the racial inequities they produce. In discussing Thomas Jefferson’s attempts to reconcile the institution of slavery with the universal equality espoused by the Declaration of Independence, DiAngelo observes that “Jefferson suggested that there were natural differences between the races and asked scientists to find them.” Gradually, racist ideas come to be internalized by all members of society, regardless of race. As DiAngelo describes, this universal acceptance occurs as part of our socialization; the ugliness of racism becomes veiled, and we unconsciously accept the constructed racial hierarchy as normal. Thus, the power structures favoring whiteness remain intact and unchallenged.
Recognizing Racism in “Musical” Training
The endurance of racist ideas is readily evident in our field, particularly in the cultural prominence we have traditionally ascribed to Western art music, which of course is rooted in European traditions. Among the most consequential artifacts of Eurocentric dominance is the near-universal focus on Western classical styles in the college-level music programs that prepared most of us for our roles. In the most typical cases, we gained entry to our music programs through required auditions that specified classical repertoire. We learned the theory, history, and performance practices relevant to a number of genres and styles within the Western domain. Our programs may have mandated a course or two in “world music,” but any such requirement likely did not account for more than a handful of credits. Our degrees and state teaching credentials show that we are highly qualified in “music,” but details specifying the cultural delimitations of our expertise are not listed; the presumption is that we have professional-level proficiency in music itself. Our status as “string specialists” is established despite the unlikelihood that we were required to study more than a single genus—with a particular emphasis of just one species—in the vast kingdom of chordophones. In this way, the dominance (cultural power) of the Western art (European, white) tradition is perpetuated as the norm (for further discussion, see Bradley 2007, 2015).
To be clear, I acknowledge that many of us actively participate and even thrive in other musical worlds; nor would I challenge the validity of our status as experts within the classical styles we studied. The racist idea in question is the socially constructed notion that our highly specific musical expertise is treated as generalized expertise. Of course, a similar critique applies to the racist ideas underlying the dominance of white composers in the recognized canon, as well as the sexist ideas underlying the fact that those composers are overwhelmingly male. Furthermore, classist ideas and policies are at work in that access to string study is exceedingly difficult for those with limited financial resources. These parallels illustrate how race, gender, and class operate as intersecting dimensions of the human experience. The inevitable overlaps highlight the broader potential social gains available once we commit ourselves to recognizing and combating racist ideas within our field.
Antiracism
The above discussion provides context necessary to understanding how we might be able to contribute to the dismantling of racism within our professional work. Since the orchestral medium is problematic precisely because of its cultural dominance, the notion that our school orchestra programs can become centers for furthering social justice within our communities may seem improbable. I remain hopeful, however, that we can transform our practice in ways that make our students, and ourselves, more cognizant of racist forces at work and the need to actively strive toward antiracism. We can maintain the presence of the classical orchestra medium within the secondary musical landscape while letting go of the assumptions and practices that reinforce the supposed superiority of our particularized genre.
Defining Antiracism
As the prefix suggests, the essential function of antiracism is to work in direct opposition to the forces of racism. As racism seeks to cast one racial group as superior to others, antiracism actively rejects any notion of racial hierarchy. This activism requires that we recognize racial inequities and dismantle the systemic policies that create those inequities. By doing so, we weaken the power of racist ideas (Kendi 2019). Kendi’s emphasis on confronting racist policies is at the heart of his guidance on How to Be an Antiracist. These policies, Kendi explains, consist of “any measure that produces or sustains racial inequity between racial groups” (18). As policies are changed, racial inequities are corrected, and the racial ideas that justified those inequities lose their currency.
Eschewing Neutral, “Non-Racist” Conceptions
Antiracist work is active; it requires that we devote intentional energy toward dismantling racism. Because the consequences of racist policies are at work by default (since racism is systemic), to claim neutrality or to consider ourselves simply “non-racist” only permits inequities to persist (DiAngelo 2018; Kendi 2019). Attitudes that claim color-blindness, while well meaning, indicate an equal blindness to the impacts that race-based policies have on people of color. The color-blind sentiment is based on a valid premise: the concept of race is scientifically illusionary, with no biological basis (see the discussion by Yudell et al. 2016). However, the human-created construct of race—what Kendi (2019) describes as a “genetic mirage” (53)—is deeply rooted in our collective consciousness and is therefore highly consequential in its impact despite its invented nature. Claims of color-blindness permit ignorance of those consequences and foreclose on motivation toward antiracist action. DiAngelo (2018) points out similar dangers in attitudes by which one presumes oneself “non-racist” because of one’s interracial associations. Examples include experience living in a foreign country; strong relationships with family, friends, or colleagues of other races; and, for educators perhaps, students of other races whom we admire and support. DiAngelo warns that these “non-racist” attitudes “ultimately function in a similar way; they . . . exempt the person from any responsibility” for addressing racial injustices, and thereby “protect the racial status quo” (78). In contrast, antiracist activism recognizes, questions, and disrupts that status quo. This includes the individual’s acknowledging their own capacity for racist behavior, no matter their experience or conscious values, and leads to needed self-reflection (DiAngelo 2018; Kendi 2019).
A liberating aspect of racism and antiracism is that neither attribute is necessarily tied to the character of the individual. As DiAngelo (2018) and Kendi (2019) each explain, at the individual level, racism and antiracism are principally located in one’s actions (or inactions) at any given time. We engage in racism to the extent that our actions (or inactions) project neutrality, support policies or ideas rooted in presumptions of white superiority, or (in Kendi’s more expansive conceptualization) suggest the superiority of some other race. We engage in antiracism through actions that challenge white-dominant systems by insisting upon revised policies that, in both design and impact, affirm the equality of all races.
Antiracist Actions
As we understand the diametrically opposed concepts of racism and antiracism, we can begin to envision ways of promoting antiracism within our teaching practice. Antiracist activity is best targeted at racist policy (Kendi 2019), and we are advantageously positioned to implement written and unwritten policies and practices that work toward socially just ends. The following reflect my thoughts on several ways we may be able model antiracist behaviors and practices, thereby inspiring our students to adopt antiracist perspectives as well.
Diversifying Our Musical Representations
When we think about antiracism and the repertoire we perform, it may be tempting to revert to a practice to which many have become accustomed: Programming music from “diverse” cultures, often found in works that incorporate non-Western folk musics or African American spirituals. However, without critical examination, this approach risks achieving unintended results. Non-critical programming “that incorporate[s] a few select traditions merely as exotic add-ons, perpetuate[s] . . . racism” (Bradley 2007, 143). A number of questions are relevant as we consider any given example: What was the original nature of the music upon which this piece is based? How is that cultural significance preserved in this setting, and what has been lost? If this work is targeted toward student orchestras, in what ways has the musical essence been altered to fit needs and limitations of students at this level, and what is the impact of these compromises on the music’s cultural authenticity? Does this piece avoid the perpetuation of racial or cultural stereotypes? Who is the composer or arranger, and what is the nature of their relationship to the underlying cultural group? What can my students and our audience gain through exposure to this piece, and how might these broader learnings be facilitated to engender cultural competency and empathy?
The final question is particularly important with respect to the selections we ultimately decide to program. Fostering intercultural understanding and antiracist thinking will require effort beyond merely rehearsing and performing. Deborah Bradley (2007), for example, describes how her choir’s preparation of a South African freedom song included in-depth discussions of apartheid. In addition to informing the eventual performance, these discussions enabled students to more clearly understand the impacts of oppressive systems and to “make their own connections to other examples of racism in society today” (154).
Another important expression of antiracist programming would be to routinely include concert works by people of color. Teachers of sufficiently advanced high school ensembles could look to works like George Walker’s well-known Lyric for Strings, as well as Samuel Coleridge-Taylor’s lesser-known Four Novelletten. Nseobong Ekpo (2015) has cataloged 379 works by black American composers—including 23 for string orchestra—that are published and available to perform. In addition, the Institute for Composer Diversity (https://www.composerdiversity.com) maintains a database that allows users to filter lists of works by composer criteria (e.g., women, LGBTQ+, Latinx), or work types (e.g., chamber orchestra). Notably, this database also includes compositions for student ensembles, with filters for various difficulty levels. As we collectively amplify an expanded orchestral canon, we create more avenues for discussion with our students as we confront the “dead white men” status quo that characterizes classical music. By regularly exposing students to music by people of color, women, and other marginalized communities, we can collectively redefine what constitutes accepted representations within our field.
Musical representation may also be better diversified in the identities of the musical role models to whom we expose our students. An antiracist practice would be to purposefully include people of color among those who visit our classrooms and auditoriums as guest performers, clinicians, and adjudicators. In doing so, we affirm the classical music landscape as an accessible space. Our students of color who see their own racial groups represented are permitted to imagine for themselves the possibility of continued participation in Western musical styles, should they choose. Furthermore, our white students gain a more concrete perspective on inclusiveness.
Diversifying Our Teacher and Student Populations
Unsurprisingly, recent research indicates that more than nine out of ten school orchestra teachers are white (Smith, Mick, and Alexander 2018), and that Latinx and especially black students continue to be underrepresented in our programs (Elpus and Abril 2019). It is fair to hope that these disparities will diminish as we pursue the kinds of antiracist efforts described above. However, recalling that the very nature of the orchestral paradigm is culturally particularized, we should also come to terms with the possibility that there are those for whom our ways of music making are simply not attractive, despite our antiracist efforts. Pendergast and Robinson (2020), for example, found comparatively little interest in large ensemble participation among secondary students whose musical involvement occurred solely outside of school. These students indicated greater interest in the prospect of music courses that would emphasize piano or guitar, composing with technology (e.g., iPads), popular music groups, and music history or theory. Furthermore, black and Latinx students, as well as students who did not participate in school groups, indicated stronger preferences for environments in which students exercised full control over repertoire selection, apart from teacher influence. These results are a vividly telling illustration of the extent to which orchestra and other typical music classes do not always match the musical interests of our student populations. By extension, these considerations can help us understand why racial underrepresentation continues as these students move into determining their adult careers. This is not to suggest that we abandon efforts to make our programs more accessible to students from underrepresented groups, including minimizing financial barriers for students from all ethnic backgrounds. Nor should we give up on reshaping our profession to attract would-be string educators of color. However, we should be open to accepting that some students will engage most deeply with music outside an orchestral setting.
Beyond the Orchestra Program
As Kendi (2019) reminds us, racial disparities indicate problems of policy. Accordingly, we can interpret the underrepresentation of racial groups as a sign that our current breadth of musical offerings is insufficient to meet the musical curiosities of all students. Responding to this reality in an antiracist way will require disciplinary humility. In recognizing that our orchestra (and band, and choir) programs do not represent the whole of student musical interest, we can become advocates for expanding our schools’ menus of musical offerings. Using the findings on preferred offerings as an example (Pendergast and Robinson 2020), we could advocate for increased ubiquity of piano and/or guitar class offerings that appeal to a wide array of musical styles. We could encourage our administrators to consider courses in music technology as avenues that enable participation for students who do not have the prior musical background usually expected in secondary band and orchestra trajectories. Offering classes in popular musical styles, as well as other styles reflected in the cultural groups present in our communities, adds relevance in connecting students’ worlds in and out of school. Of course, as discussed earlier, these disciplines require different kinds of musical expertise among the faculty. We can challenge our college and conservatory programs to reexamine their own curricula and policies—to grow the academy’s definition of what constitutes an educated musician (see Powell et al. 2020).
Conclusion
Engaging in antiracism begins with a clear understanding of what racism entails, and how it is reflected in policies and practices we have long taken for granted, including within the string education enterprise. Challenging those assumptions within our areas of professional influence must become a habit of intentional practice, because the systems we seek to dismantle are deeply entrenched. Even as we use our positions to advocate for larger scale changes to the school music landscape, I have proposed antiracist practices we can readily adopt. These include better serving our students and communities through thoughtful and inclusive repertoire selection, relevant discussion, and through having our students interact with classical artists from underrepresented groups. In formulating and pursuing these and other antiracist efforts, we will effect change in ways that draw us closer to our stated ideals of true equality within and beyond the string classroom.
Footnotes
James Ray(