Abstract

Definitions hold power. They reflect the values, priorities, and beliefs of those who write them, and language holds considerable power to define what is considered normative and what is considered alternative. Scholars have repeatedly called for music educators to examine the language we use to describe our field because those words matter (Bradley 2006; Hess 2017). Such is the case with the language that the field of string education uses to separate Western classical art music from everything else: “alternative” strings. When we position Western classical art music apart from every other musical style, we force all non-Western musics into the margins, reinforcing the power structure of Western domination over all Others (Hess 2015). As a field, we have thus presented Western classical art music as central, essential—and anything and everything else as additive, optional, and alternative.
And so, the question is posed: how do we change? How do we transform the field? How can we authentically manifest progressive string programs that subvert the harms of Western supremacy in favor of artistry, expression, and meaningful, lifelong musicianship for all students? The purpose of this article is to present some ideas about colonialism and decolonization and then connect them to practical ideas aligned with postcolonial theory for transforming our practice by changing what we teach, how we teach, and why we teach.
Colonization
Broadly speaking, colonization refers to the domination of Western culture in many forms over that of indigenous populations. Bradley (2012, 428) argues that “music education colonizes when it implies, however inadvertently, that only some music genres have educative value.” Students who may have existing musical skills, competencies, and expertise outside of Western classical art music may feel inferior because their lived musical experiences are not valued in a string classroom that centers Western music played on Western string instruments (Bradley 2012; Shaw 2012). Regardless of our intentions as educators, our choices in the classroom can reinforce colonial power structures that lead talented, musical students to walk away from a musical life because they feel inferior, undervalued, and worthless (Shaw 2012). No teacher wants that for their students, so let’s begin by reassessing what we teach.
What We Teach
The “what” of teaching alternative styles often comes down to repertoire (Farrar-Royce 2006; Lieberman 2004; Rotjan 2018). Many string pedagogues have addressed different approaches to selecting repertoire, including selecting repertoire that does not appropriate musics of other cultures or turn them into stereotyped caricatures (Lysaker 2021; Thomas 2020). For the purposes of this paper, repertoire will be discussed in terms of how it colonizes or decolonizes the string learning space. Remember that colonizing action and decolonizing action are the only two available options—inaction is a political choice that reinforces colonization and oppressive power structures.
Repertoire that functions as colonizer could present in different ways. Authenticity is a significant topic of conversation when discussing cultural representation in repertoire (Abril 2006). A composer taking on another cultural identity for the purposes of selling and profiting from counterfeit cultural artifacts is a colonizing act, as is programming and performing it without researching its origins. Colonization through repertoire also happens when composers give pieces generic titles like “Indian Chant” or “Seminole Song” that include rhythm patterns or pentatonic sequences that aurally impersonate an amalgamated “Native American” culture (Abril 2006; Lysaker 2021; Thomas 2020).
Thoroughly researching repertoire as we prepare concert programs is an essential step toward decolonizing our repertoire choices. Confirm that the repertoire your students perform originates in the culture indicated by the composer or publisher, and avoid generic, stereotyped presentations of non-Western musics. Rather than thinking of such pieces as “added” to a conventional concert program, consider designing concert series centered around a variety of playing styles to explore multiple ways of string-playing.
As programming just one or two “other” styles in the fall concert alongside the “core” group of pieces from the established canon only reinforces colonization in the string classroom, we can improve our practice by redefining what a performance can be. Consider opening up the program to local composers, to student composers, to improvised sets, and to “informances” which present musicking-in-progress instead of polished final products (Nowmos 2010). Treat musicking as a form of sharing and ask your students (and yourself): what do you want to share?
Let’s also consider technique as Euro-centric colonialist values can also inadvertently influence what technical skills we choose to teach and prioritize. Lieberman (2004) identifies five basic parameters that are fundamental to string playing regardless of style: pressure, speed, duration, method of entry, and method of departure (Lieberman 2004, 19–20). Lieberman’s parameters may be useful in considering the potential for separating technical skill from cultural content as they have general applications across multiple styles of playing; however, attempting to sever music from its cultural and sociopolitical contexts does not advance decolonization because colonialist power relations go unchallenged.
“We can improve our practice by redefining what a performance can be. Consider opening up the program to local composers, to student composers, to improvised sets, and to “informances,” which present musicking-in-progress instead of polished final products.”
Teaching standards of performance for both performer and audience presents another opportunity to reconsider the ubiquity of European and American models of behavior. Requiring students and audiences to sit still and remain silent while listening reflects Western expectations of behavior, whereas plenty of other performance settings involve audience participation. These expectations also reflect behavior that benefits neurotypical people, whereas neurodiverse audience members with autism, attention deficit hyperactivity disorder (ADHD), and similar neurotypes might need to move while listening to self-regulate (Shiloh and LaGasse 2014). Decolonizing practices then involve aligning the style of performance with the style of music, providing options for moving while playing and listening, reading from non-Western or student-designed notation, and allowing students to dress expressively, based on community standards of formality.
When Curriculum Colonizes
Curricula can be forces of colonization when they center Western music and marginalize musics of any other cultures. Words like “alternative” imply a binary between “West and the rest” (Bradley 2015, 410) although they are not used with prejudiced intent. If using specific language allows us to identify systems of oppression and begin decolonizing our practice (Hess 2017), developing a clear understanding of what exactly the term “alternative strings” means may be useful.
The terms “alternative styles” and “eclectic styles” refer to a body of playing styles that in some way deviate from the conventions of string playing in Western classical art music (Farrar-Royce 2006; Lieberman 2004; Rotjan 2018). Each of these styles is distinct from one other, yet by being marginalized in one broad category labeled “alternative,” they are all defined by what they are not: they are not Western classical art music. Often, the inclusion of alternative styles in “multicultural” units “reinforces dominant power relations” (Hess 2015, 337) between the colonized and the colonizers (Bradley 2006, 2007). Previous critiques of multiculturalism in music education point to this phenomenon of reinforcing colonial Western supremacy by including occasional ventures into “Other” musics, even as teachers intend to provide comprehensive multicultural music education in good faith (Bradley 2006; Hess 2017). A well-intentioned alternative strings curriculum that adds fiddle tunes to concerts or that uses stylistic conventions from jazz to meet national arts standards goals can also reify dominant power structures by consuming and exploiting the Other to serve the needs of the colonizer (Hess 2019; hooks 1992). When our classroom materials include just an occasional reference to a non-Western musical genre, the colonialist power structures of Western supremacy are not only maintained, but they are also in fact strengthened. So, what can we do instead?
How We Teach
With this in mind, let’s consider how we teach. Evaluate the source(s) of authority in the classroom and determine how often authority is shared among members of the learning community. Besides the teacher(s), who else in the room has knowledge to contribute? Is the teacher always right, or is there room for multiple perspectives? Are you the only source of information or knowledge (Freire 1970)? Who do you treat as knowledge holders? Reflect on the ways you treat every person who joins the learning space, not just students or other teachers, but also family members, administrators, school staff, custodians, and aides. Consider ways to construct knowledge alongside your students. Ask them to teach you and teach one another. Use their knowledge of a familiar concept to branch out to the unfamiliar.
When considering how we teach repertoire and other musical content, we inevitably run into questions about notation. Instead of treating Western notation as an inevitable end goal of instruction, follow the lead of your students and their needs for written music. Consider the use of iconic and symbolic notation and the ways your students specifically understand written information. Include options for aural learning and informal learning, especially if the music you are working on is usually taught by ear (Söderman and Folkestad 2004). Keep in mind the many ways that popular musicians learn and take advantage of technology to let your students explore their own musical preferences while playing their instruments (Green 2001, 2014). Always requiring memorization for solo performances regardless of whether or not memorizing the music aligns with how that style is traditionally performed similarly imposes colonizing limitations on students, as well as ableist expectations of mental ability. Determine the role of written music in the styles you perform and recognize that how musics are intended to be played is just as important as playing them in the first place.
Decolonization
Decolonization has very real potential to directly change the conditions in which our students learn and develop as musicians. Decolonization is defined by some as the process of rejecting Euro-centricity in favor of indigenous knowledge and ways of knowing in which individuals and systems subvert established norms (Bradley 2006; Chávez and Skelchy 2019). In this paper, I choose to frame decolonization as a verb to recognize that no single action can entirely transform a string classroom, as decolonization requires “political engagement and structural fracture” (Chávez and Skelchy, 118) that go beyond the theoretical.
Before considering decolonizing actions, a philosophical conflict must be addressed. We know that string education teaches Western classical art music on European string instruments for the purpose of performance of Western classical art music conventions. We know that treating the thousands of non-Western instruments and hundreds of different non-Western styles as additives to an existing Euro-centric curriculum only emphasizes the hierarchy that positions Western music above all. We know that occasional units on so-called “world music” tokenize the Other musics as an exotic detour from the central curriculum (Hess 2015). Therefore, it is possible to interpret any implementation of a traditional string curriculum as an act of colonization if it occurs anywhere but where European string instruments and European classical art music originated. I currently live on occupied Lenape land, and my primary instrument, the cello, is not indigenous to that land. Bringing my European instrument onto Lenapehoking and performing European music can be considered an act of colonization. The very existence of the string orchestra (an ensemble of European origin) in school music programs stems directly from European colonization of the North American continent; otherwise, our music programs would feature the traditions of the nations on whose land those programs operate. Western domination in string playing is not just present—it is critical to the very foundation of our field. Hence, any approach to “decolonization” we might take must grapple with this philosophical conflict: that decolonizing string education may be impossible. 1
This conflict is significant, and it is messy (Hess 2018), so much so that other music education scholars have also questioned the legitimacy of truly decolonizing their fields (Bradley 2012; Chávez and Skelchy 2019; Kallio 2019). Knowing just how deep the roots of injustice grow can lead us to question whether we are strong enough to dig them up. Hopelessness in the face of such significant, exhaustive reform is an expected response to the problem we face as we try to decolonize an inherently colonialist field. But we are far from the first to experience the feeling of despair in the face of overwhelming injustice, and Freire (1970, 91–92) recognized the potential for immense injustice to, in fact, catalyze hope, not destroy it: “the dehumanization resulting from an unjust order is not a case for despair but for hope, leading to the incessant pursuit of the humanity denied by injustice.” We cannot and we will not abdicate our responsibility to engage meaningfully with colonization to avoid the labor of decolonizing our field (Kallio 2019, 3). The work begins with concrete choices, practical knowledge, and actualized theory (Chávez and Skelchy 2019).
Why We Teach
Let’s consider the why as we contemplate the potential of decolonizing action. What are our personal or professional motives for teaching certain content in certain ways? What priorities are you upholding, and why? In my own teaching, I attempt to frame all learning experiences from the position of my students—what they need, what they like, what their interests are, and how learning music can inform how they think about their lives. Why we teach should be rooted in our students, in the here and now, between the tangible walls of our classroom and the individuals sitting next to us (see Gay 2018; Ladson-Billings 1995, 2009; Lind and McKoy 2016; Paris and Alim 2017).
We also often teach to our own preferences. For example, I am a visual learner, and I am extremely particular about how I learn. When I’m teaching, my first instinct is to explain something the way I understand it, even if my students have no frame of reference for understanding it. Similarly, my classroom rules and expectations tend to reflect my personal preferences. I am most comfortable speaking when others are silent, as I have difficulty processing speech when multiple people talk at once. However, my own preferences should not necessarily be the first concern when teaching or developing classroom standards—rather, that process should begin with an egalitarian approach to meeting community needs in the classroom. What conventions do you bring to the classroom? Are they based on your preferences or on what makes you comfortable? Or do they come from what the learning group needs, together, as a community? Reconsider your approaches to designing lessons and developing classroom rules and expectations from perspectives of every member of your learning community.
I might also teach something because I personally find it crucial to developing musicianship. I use the word musicianship here to mean the qualities that make musicking an activity unique from other forms of art and doing art. Rather than trying to fit every essential element of string playing into a curriculum, ask yourself what your students actually need and why they need it. Do you teach because learning unaccompanied Bach is the most important task in the world? Or do you teach because playing the cello is . . . intrinsically valuable? Because it is joyful, or interesting, or helpful in some way? Do you teach what you teach because it helps your students come to consciousness and name the world (Freire 1970)? Because every skill that you teach supports any type of musicking your students might choose to do? Will learning this hand shape, or this bow position, or this way of shifting empower my student to go home, play something, feel something, express themselves, and not just today, but tomorrow, and in a year, and in ten years? These questions may serve as starting points for the decolonization efforts in our field.
Final Thoughts
At the end of the day, my goal as an educator is this: that my students can use the skills they learn on the instrument to play music that means something to them, that they have enough technical knowledge to noodle around on the instrument to figure out a familiar tune, to entertain at family celebrations, to busk in the subway, and to play along with a favorite album when they need to express something they cannot quite say aloud. I believe that these goals are doable in the string curriculum and that decolonizing our practice can make meaningful musical lives more possible for our students.
Footnotes
Notes
Mercedes Yvonne Lysaker (
