Abstract
This collective case study examined the experiences of four African American gay band students attending historically Black colleges or universities (HCBUs) in the southern United States. This study explored influences that shaped the participants’ identities as they negotiated numerous complex sociocultural discourses pervasive and challenging to gay African American band students. Utilizing participative inquiry, participants were asked to read, reflect on, and respond to historical and current research literature concerning the schooling experiences of Black students. Their responses were analyzed within a multifaceted theoretical framework, including poststructual theory, critical race theory, critical theory, and lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender, queer, or questioning (LGBT2Q) studies. Present throughout the participants’ descriptions was an ever-evolving and renegotiated gay African American identity within the HBCU band setting. Findings indicate that the construction of an African American gay male identity within an HBCU band setting was a source of tremendous consternation concurrent with positive experiences of acceptance and community. Numerous implications for music educators in K–12 settings are provided, including recognizing and stemming bullying and harassment in classroom settings.
The Connection Among HBCUs, the LGBT2Q Community, and the Arts
Within the American higher education system, a college degree often is considered a marker of success and great equalizer across color and creeds. For Black people, historically Black colleges or universities (HBCUs) represent an opportunity and vehicle to obtain equality, group recognition in America, and access to white-collar occupations (Sissoko & Shiau, 2005). HBCUs provide an academic and learning experience that differs in significant ways from predominantly White institutions (PWIs). HBCUs strive to nurture and affirm Black students on numerous levels, including building welcoming communities as opposed to communities of marginalization, emphasizing Black history and culture in curricula, involvement and integration into campus life and student activities, and closer relationships with faculty and staff (Redd, 1998).
While there is a small but emerging body of research concerning students attending HBCUs, there are few if any scholarly articles addressing Black students who identify as homosexual, especially Black gay men (Tatum, 2004). Furthermore, while professional educational literature concerning racial identity, sexual identity, and sexual orientation of students has been emerging (Loiacana, 1989), the literature is largely from White, Euro-American perspectives (Greene, 1994; Rothblum, 1994) and excludes the Black gay male experience (Sears, 1991; Wall & Washington, 1991). Most research about the experiences of gay students and Black students has been conducted at PWIs. Many gay students at PWIs encounter heterosexism and homophobia, and many Black students experience racism and prejudice while at PWIs (D’Augelli, 1992; Nettles, 1998; Rhoads, 1994, 1995). Many of these students possess the ability to achieve success in the face of adversity, but others succumb to the verbal and physical abuse, discrimination, and emotional duress that can be caused by faculty, friends, institutional policies, parents, other students, staff members, and society at large (D’Augelli, 1992; McKinney, 2004; Nettles, 1998; Sauve, 1997; Savin-Williams, 1988). While HBCUs may provide an accepting environment for African Americans who choose to attend, those students who openly share their nonheteronormative sexuality may be met with fear, suspicion, and distrust (Rhoads, 1994).
While one might assume that the arts have served consistently as places of refuge for members of the lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender, queer, and questioning (LGBT2Q) community, this is not always the case. Gould (2003) argued that the collision of heterosexual norms with musical legitimacy and educational values rendered the culture of bands generally, and university bands specifically, as hostile to difference of all kinds but most notably to women and men of color, in particular those who are regarded as sexually deviant. Within music education, there has been a lack of research examining the experiences of students from various ethnic and socioeconomic groups (Hoffman, 2008). Furthermore, in the field of music education, research pertaining to these groups often has been relegated to the periphery of scholarship, publication, and curriculum (Woodford, 2005). Specifically, topics of race, class, socioeconomic status, gender, and sexual orientation are examined infrequently within the music research landscape. Music education research has focused most often on the individual acquisition of musical skill, overlooking the dynamics of social contexts, inside and outside the classroom, that shape musical development (Bowman, 2009). In the past decade or so, however, a growing number of scholars has begun extending the focus of music education research into sociocultural and sociohistorical fields to explicate more fully the musical schooling experiences of students (Hargreaves & North, 1997; McCarthy, 2009). To date, within music education scholarship, sociocultural scholarship focusing on LGBT2Q topics can be found only in practitioner-based articles (see Bergonzi, 2009).
Purpose of the Study
This qualitative study explored how four undergraduate men described their gay identity in context with their musical and social experiences performing with an HBCU marching band. Specifically, the purpose of the study is to contribute a sociocultural dialogue that illuminates the multifaceted ways gay African American males negotiate specific discourses that surround them as discursive formations. The primary research questions that guided this study included the following: (1) What sociocultural discourses surrounding gay Black males influenced the way participants operated within an HBCU band? and (2) How did participants identify and negotiate those discourses?
Theoretical Framework
A transparent research process is fundamental to increasing the trustworthiness in all educational research (Koro-Ljungberg, Yendol-Hoppey, Smith, & Hayes, 2009). Three theoretical frameworks informed this study. Specifically, poststructural theory, critical race theory (CRT), and critical theory, as well as LGBT2Q studies, were important in scaffolding both design and implementation.
In this study, the term poststructural denotes the remediation of academic theory within the culture of postmodernism. Structuralism is premised on efforts to scientize language, to posit it as systematizable. Poststructuralism’s focus is on the remainder, all that is left over after the systematic categorizations have been made (Lecercle, 1990). For such French poststructuralists as Barthes, Derrida, Foucault, and Lacan, structuralism’s basic thesis of the universal and unconscious laws of human society and of the human mind was part of the bureaucratic and technocratic systems that they opposed. Their interest was in the “gaps, discontinuities and suspensions of dictated meanings in which difference, plurality, multiplicity and the coexistence of opposites are allowed free play” (Bannet, 1989, p. 5). Specific to this study, poststructural theory provided a way to reexamine and redefine concepts of person, agency, discourse, and power (St. Pierre, 2000).
CRT asserts that racism is a fixed, lasting aspect of society (Bell, 1992; Grant, 2006; Ladson-Billings & Donnor, 2005). According to Sleeter and Bernal (2004), CRT scholars believe that race as an analytical tool, rather than biological or socially constructed category used to compare and contrast social conditions, can deepen the analysis of educational barriers for people of color, as well as illuminate how they resist and overcome these barriers. (p. 246)
Although CRT refers to race, scholarship framed within this theory blurs previous methodological boundaries; it facilitates the exploration of new questions and helps foster unexplored views of race within research (Ladson-Billings & Donnor, 2005). Crucial to this study, CRT put forward the theoretical concepts of counter-storytelling and double consciousness. Ladson-Billings (1999) asserted that CRT places race as central to the understanding of the student’s experience in the classroom. Critical theory, outlined and contextualized in Foucault’s (1972) discursive formation and Butler’s (1999) subversive repetition, helped contextualize sociopolitical topics of marginalized subjects and hegemony.
Lastly, I utilize the lens of LGBT2Q studies to broadly frame and examine topics related to participants’ gender or sexuality (D’Augelli, 1992). In broadest terms, LGBT2Q (or LGBT) studies is the largest umbrella or moniker for research pertaining to gender and sexuality studies. Most scholarship labeled within this genre is related to topics of activism, visibility, rights, stereotypes, and community. Researchers utilizing the label of LGBT studies often connote an inclusivity with an intentionality toward similarities of nonheteronormative discourse. While working within the context of LGBT2Q studies, I recognize the Western heteronormative hegemonic discourse as a limitation of this study.
Method
Because this study examined the distinctive experiences of band members, it is well suited to the instrumental case study design as described by Stake (2005). Furthermore, by interviewing four gay Black men, I employed what Stake described as a collective case study.
In this study, I positioned the interviewees as self-determining, discursively composed participants actively renegotiating their intricate identities within complex social milieus. Accordingly, participative inquiry was utilized to acknowledge the independence of the research participants as concurrent and bilateral research partners. Participative inquiry allows the participants and researcher to work in tandem as active agents investigating social theories in live-action contexts. Through this process, the researcher acknowledges, embraces, and encourages shifts in the lived experiences and perspectives of all involved in the research process.
Utilizing a form of participative inquiry outlined by Kemmis and Wilkinson (1998), I framed the research methodology as a spiral of reflection consisting of planning, acting and observing, reflecting, replanning, and so forth. Participative inquiry consists of seven key features: (a) a social process involving deliberate exploration of the relationship between the individual and the social; (b) a participatory process that engages people in critically examining their sense of identity and agency; (c) a practical and collaborative process that engages people with others in critically examining actions that link them to one and another and to the social; (d) an emancipating process designed to assist people in liberating themselves from unjust social structures; (e) a critical process designed to assist people in liberating themselves from unjust discourses and power relations; (f) a recursive process designed to assist people in investigating “reality” in order to change it, to reinvestigate it, and to rechange it; and (g) a process that encourages researchers to reconsider conventional relationships between theory and practice (Kemmis & Wilkinson, 1998). These key features parallel current trends of research that encourage researchers to reconsider traditional boundaries between research, learning, and action. As with numerous other qualitative research modalities, there is no one codified methodology for practitioners of participative research inquiry.
Participant selection was conducted through snowball sampling (Creswell, 2005). At a dinner party attended by numerous gay African American men, I asked for help in identifying other “out” men who would consider being interviewed for the study. Several members of the dinner party were responsible for contacting 10 people who e-mailed stating their interest in discussing their experiences. The criteria for selection included current enrollment in an HBCU, participation in marching band during high school and undergraduate years, and self-identification as both African American and gay. Of the initial 12 who were invited to participate in the study, 6 agreed to participate, 6 completed all of the interviews, but only 4 finished the study. The 4 participants who completed the study attended different universities. However, each of the four HBCUs was located in the southeastern region of the United States, was public, and was similar in undergraduate enrollment of approximately 1,300.
Data included semistructured interviews, notes from my research journal, and written materials from the participants. Each participants was interviewed on 10 different occasions over a period of 2 years. To establish and make participation in the study less invasive to their lives, I met participants at locations and times that were convenient for them. Because of the participants’ busy schedules, we met at a variety of locations, including coffee shops, empty classrooms, friends’ houses, and so forth. Most of the interviews were individual, face-to-face, and semistructured, utilizing traditional question-and-answer protocols (Kvale, 1996). However, the last two interviews for each participant were conducted through video communication via iChat. Each interview lasted for at least an hour and no more than 90 min. Interviews were audio recorded and later transcribed by the author, yielding over 400 pages of interview transcripts.
Specifically, each participant wrote a short autobiography at the beginning of the study describing his family and friends, formative musical experiences, and life experiences as a gay man. Participants were asked to address these three topics broadly, highlighting salient events that served as signposts in their schooling years. The autobiographies were important to the study in numerous ways. First, the written documents provided an opportunity for participants to express themselves in a format that promoted meaningful self-reflection. Second, the autobiographies were used throughout the entire 2-year study as an important reference for both the participants and myself. Prior to writing the reflections, and to encourage participants to become more active in their role as researchers, they were asked to read, reflect on, and respond to three manuscripts and one movie. The manuscripts and movie all presented perspectives concerning African American experiences, including Steele’s (1997) article “A Threat in the Air: How Stereotypes Shape Intellectual Identity and Performance,” Polito’s (2008) book Band Fags, and the 2002 movie Drumline (Dallas, Finerman, & Stone, 2002). Two months after the participants submitted their autobiographies, they were asked to reflect on their work during an in-person interview to determine any changes in perspective.
Well-established forms of validation were utilized in this study: triangulation, member checking, and external audits. The interviews and written artifacts allowed triangulation of data from multiple sources. In regard to member checks, I asked participants to review their interview transcripts for accuracy and to examine the way their accounts had been presented. The errors participants found in the interview transcripts included misinterpretations of participants’ names and references to musical pieces. The participants’ responses to the data transcriptions were very positive, as they each enjoyed seeing their words put into writing. Additionally, they each appreciated that I altered references to their personal lives and institutional affiliation to such a degree they could not be recognized or identified.
An external audit encourages an independent evaluation of research practices and illuminates strengths and weaknesses within research practices. I selected an auditor who was a university professor familiar with qualitative research methodologies and the field of social justice. Following standard qualitative procedures, the auditor challenged preliminary findings and emergent themes within the interview transcripts. Specifically, the auditor challenged the labels given to each participant and carefully examined data utilized to support claims and labels within the work. Additionally, due to the sensitive nature of this research, I asked the auditor to look for data that might compromise participant anonymity.
The Four Participants
The purpose of each interview was to facilitate conditions for each participant to reflect on his life as a Black gay male. Alongside his experiences in the marching band at an HBCU, each participant reflected on his journey from childhood to present as a Black gay male in a variety of settings, including familial and societal. Through these individual descriptions, one may better understand the college experiences of the men in this study. In this section, I provide an overview of the four participants: Derek, Michael, Ken, and Darrell. Furthermore, the intent of the section is to highlight the meaningful themes that emerged from each participant’s responses.
Derek
When I first talked to Derek on the phone, I was struck by both his confidence and the ease with which he discussed his life and sexuality. At age 24, Derek was the youngest participant and most recent graduate. After getting to know Derek, I asked him about my first impression of him as being confident. He responded, I am well aware that my voice is deep and low. The first thing you learn as a young Black male is the markers for being strong. I remember clearly mimicking my brother’s friends who were the strong jocks. I didn’t really think about it as a performance until I started the readings for this project, but now that I think about it, we are all taught to perform in a certain way, I guess.
Derek went on to explain that he is very aware of the masculinity of his friends both gay and straight. Although he realized he should not be judgmental of people who are feminine, he has a hard time respecting feminine-acting males: Being in the band brought enough grief from friends in high school, mainly that it was an activity that was not considered cool. Besides that, it was considered a pretty faggoty thing, unless you played drums, of course. Because I was in band I had to be especially careful about who I hung around with. I was already skating on thin ice being in band, if I hung around with girly people I would be found out for sure.
Being perceived as masculine and strong was paramount in Derek’s perception of himself, not just as a Black male but as a gay male. Derek prided himself on the fact that he was not readily perceived as gay by others and therefore had the power to decide whether people learned of his sexuality. In this way, Derek was able to “pass” clearly. Passing in LGBT2Q discourse refers to a person’s ability to act or seem straight without immediate assumption of being queer. At first, it seemed that Derek was ashamed of being gay; however, he clearly described his pride as a masculine gay male, stating, I have no problem with anyone knowing I am gay. In school there were a number of guys who had a problem with me but were too afraid to say anything to my face. I also took a lot of band guys under my wing and protected them. I think I helped them realize they could be Black, strong, masculine, and gay. You don’t have to fall into the stereotype of a nellie queen to fit in.
The notion or need for power and strength also was evident within Derek’s choice of instrument and identification with markers of his musical section. Derek believed that by being in the percussion section, specifically, playing snare drum, he demonstrated his capacity to play the most demanding physical instrument. In Derek’s opinion, the percussion section was the most masculine and most popular with the girls in the band.
For Derek, the marching band was a place to find friendship and community. However, there was a constant dissonance between acceptance of band peers and concerns of rejection. This dissonance was amplified by the silence that seemed to surround being gay. While many people in the band were gay, it was not discussed; in fact, the topic was avoided almost completely. According to Derek, it is one thing for people to think you are gay; it is another to say it out loud. My general impression is that Black people, more so than others, do not call people out. We take people’s private lives seriously, what goes on in yo house is yo house. Black people don’t get up in your business—except in church—but that is usually just a performance as well.
In Derek’s experience, negotiating the discourse of a “strong” male African American was prevalent throughout his life journey, even in his band experiences. The discourse of deficiency and rejection also was primary as he described his personal relationships with family and peers. Lastly, the culture of passing (being assumed heterosexual) was prevalent in the way he defined his masculinity and self-esteem.
Michael
At age 32, Michael was the oldest of participants in the study. The first thing I noticed about Michael was his reserved nature and disciplined demeanor. The first time I met Michael, he suggested we meet at a bar near his accounting firm. When I walked into the restaurant, it became apparent that Michael’s favorite bar was one of the most upscale establishments in the city. Pressed linens adorned every table; china and silverware were all meticulously set. When Michael entered, he was easily recognizable, primarily because he was the only non-White person in the restaurant. He was dressed in a perfectly tailored suit and wore a bow tie. Even by the high standards of this eatery, Michael stood out as best dressed.
After a firm and formal handshake, we sat at a table away from the crowd and ordered a few drinks. Michael described his youth and current life as being upper-middle class. Upon graduating from an HBCU, he earned an accounting degree from an Ivy League institution. Of all the participants, Michael was the most meticulous in the way he described his past, especially his undergraduate years. The biography he had written to serve as a prompt for our discussions was well organized and carefully constructed, serving as a perfect metaphor for my perception of him.
For Michael, the single most important part of his undergraduate career was his participation in the marching band. Even 10 years after graduating from college, Michael’s pride in being in the marching band was clearly evident: Almost all of my best friends are people I met in the marching band—a few of them are gay. Being in the marching band was by far the best experience I have ever had, I still go back and visit every year—not to see the football team, but hear the band.
When prompted to talk about intersections of being gay and being in the band, Michael was blunt, stating, There is no such thing as being gay with my friends from undergrad. To this day they do not ask me who I am dating and I do not share my personal life. I have my close subset of gay friends, but most of them were not in band and didn’t attend school. Most of us knew who was gay, or we at least suspected, but it is never spoken.
To cope with the lack of acceptance of his gay life, Michael joined the band fraternity. He admitted that by joining the fraternity, he further distanced his true identity—that of a gay male—from his band peers: “I get a lot of hell for not being out from my friends, but they don’t know my life. As like to say, you gotta live your life—your life.”
In later conversations, Michael explained that separating his band life from his personal life in his undergraduate years provided useful training in learning to “compartmentalize.” Michael described his accounting firm as a very masculine, nonaccepting, highly judgmental group that looked down on women and members of the LGBT community. He explained, In many ways band and many successful professional organizations like my firm are the same: You have to play the game within a social setting with strict rules. If you are different, you do not tell anyone. You learn to keep your lives separated and not to shit where you eat.
Similar to Derek, the importance of passing was paramount throughout Michael’s life story. However, unlike Derek, who was now more comfortable being identified as gay in his adult life, Michael still was required to pass as straight to “succeed,” both within the band setting as a undergraduate and in his professional life.
Michael stated that most of his friends were fairly accepting of his decision to not come out to colleagues, family, or male friends in the band. When asked how he coped with tensions surrounding living in compartments, he admitted that like most of his gay friends, he worked long hours and drank far too much. According to Michael, Money, success, and power can make up for a lot of things. Most of the Black people who attend HBCUs do so for a reason, to make connections to get somewhere, make a lot of money, drive the best cars, and wear the best clothes.
Of the 4 participants in the study, Michael was the most closeted. In one of our last interviews, I explained the irony I discovered—that while he was the most closeted, he was the most open and forward about the details of his personal life. He explained, When I joined this study I never thought I would examine myself; I guess I thought I was looking at others. Then, after I began talking with you and taking notes I realized I have a lot to say. I am not particularly proud of my story, I think I have sold out in way. I do plan on coming out one day when I have achieved the success I want and no one can hurt me. I think I can be a role of model to other gay kids someday.
I asked Michael what success looked like, the kind that would afford that level of openness. He did not know but told me he would call me the day he attained it.
Ken
While Derek and Michael both were sensitive to passing in straight society, Ken was far from shy from acting or dressing the part of a feminine-acting gay male. At our first interview in a coffee shop, the 6’1”, 28-year-old man quickly entered and greeted me by kissing me on the lips. I am not sure that he noticed or even cared that I was a bit shocked by his overt gesture. Ken was dressed flamboyantly, wearing tight, low-rise jeans and small T-shirt and carrying a Louis Vuitton bag as a woman would a purse. His voice and demeanor were as loud as his clothes, and within minutes, everyone in the coffee shop knew of Ken’s arrival and the reason we were meeting.
Ken’s personality and stories were often so exaggerated I often wanted to ask if he ever embellished them for the sake of the study. However, after meeting Ken on numerous occasions, I was able to realize that his behavior was consistently larger than life and his high energy consistently enjoyable.
Ken chose to attend a specific HBCU to join and play in an HBCU marching band. Being in the band, and being a leader in the band, were paramount to Ken’s K–12 and high school experience. He stated, I am a performer. I love the uniform, the music, the dancing, the sequins, I love it all. My only regret is that I could not be a dancer, but let me tell you, everybody knows where those girls got those moves. . . . Yes, child. I can drop it like it is hot on you.
Ken’s comments almost always ended in a sexual innuendo, making conversations both entertaining and flirtatious. It is obvious that Ken had little issue with people’s realizing that he is gay. As a strategy to address the persistent issue of coming out, he dressed flamboyantly to avoid repeatedly having “the conversation.” Being gay and being out in band was not a problem, for the most part. The only issue Ken struggled with then, and continued to struggle with, involves the church. I realized that on numerous occasions, and I steered Ken away from religious conversation, largely because it made me uncomfortable; I felt it was a topic too controversial for this project. However, it became clear that Ken identified the church using ideas very similar to his discussion of marching band—they were both powerful venues of expression and performance. As he explained, For Black people, church means everything. I love Jesus, and everybody knows it. I think the only people who hate on me are my friends and church people who do not understand how I can be gay and love Jesus. I hear a lot of, “I hope this phase ends soon so you don’t die of AIDS, or keep praying to Jesus you can go straight.”
While almost of Ken’s conversations with me were lighthearted, his writing and autobiography described a life of financial hardship, difficulties in dating, and painful separation from close family. It became clear to me that Ken was a performer in numerous ways, always outwardly projecting an image that was preconceived and carefully planned. It was not that he wished to hide who he was; instead, he worked to show everyone where he was going. Being in band, being in uniform, provided a place of comfort, a performance space large enough to find shelter in, for a while. Perhaps Ken stated it best: “For me, the band uniform was a disguise; it helped make me noticed and remain invisible at the same time.”
Darrell
The first time I met Darrell, I could not help but notice his complexion. Although 26 years old, his boyish complexion seemed almost perfect, as if he did not have to shave. Furthermore, I was surprised at how light his complexion was and immediately began to wonder about the race of both of his parents. In his autobiography, the subject of skin color was never discussed. However, during our first interview, Darrell shared that his mother was White and his father African American. The impact of his skin color became the primary topic of Darrell’s discussion from that point forward. According to Darrell, When you attend an HBCU color matters, not in the way you think though. You are grouped by color on the campus. The frats are largely organized by color. The lighter you are, the more popular or prestigious a frat you can get into. Students are very color conscious and dark-skin women have it the worst. If you are dark people always say you are from the islands, and they rarely if ever get in the sun to make it worse.
According to Darrell, his light skin tone allowed him to traverse numerous social circles without being judged. He stated the marching band was not as color sensitive as some groups, but still, his light skin afforded an immediate social status within the organization: When you have light skin, people think you are smarter, come from better schools and have more money. I immediately had a position of leadership in the band and I think being popular helped. I think the readings for this project were tough for me—I did not want to admit that color was as large of an issue as it is.
Darrell’s popularity changed when he decided to come out to all of his friends and family the summer before his senior year. Darrell described in detail how his senior year was difficult as he struggled with the rejection of friends and family. Before coming out, Darrell enjoyed his college social experiences and positions of leadership in the band. After coming out, though, band members who were close friends were suddenly distant and unresponsive to e-mails and phone calls. The only exception were two other gay friends who were in the band. They remained good friends but were still closeted and unable to publicly show support. In the middle of the marching season, Darrell left the band and intentionally withdrew from social circles he previously considered important in his life. Until Darrell’s public coming out, the marching band had been a place to find friends who were loyal and similar; band had been a place of acceptance. Darrell noted in one of his e-mails, I think I started band in the beginning to make friends, and stayed in band to keep them. I had never thought about it, but band was not about the music, it was about the community—coming together for a common purpose. There is pride in that—working for something, being a part of something good.
Findings
The primary research questions that guided this study included the following: (1) What sociocultural and sociohistorical discourses concerning gay Black males influenced the way participants operated within an HBCU band? (2) How did participants identify and negotiate those discourses? Within the findings, it is important to state that the goal was not a single, monolithic representation of what it means to be gay, Black, and participating in an HBCU marching band. However, numerous similar external and internal sociocultural elements were present in all of the participants’ descriptions. Primary topics that emerged as most salient included the following:
negotiating the discourse of the “strong” male African American,
discourse of deficiency and rejection,
discourse of passing (being assumed heterosexual),
the myth of a singular coming out,
coping strategies,
the role of family and church, and
the significance of being a member of an HBCU marching band.
Figure 1 details the ways the findings are articulated specifically within the undergraduate marching band setting.

Emergent themes as articulated within band experience.
In the participants’ specific conversations regarding their gay identity, each revealed a similar complex duality. For each participant, being gay was a source of ever-present anxiety when operating within the HBCU band at large. However, each described the intense feeling of belonging and family felt within the smaller group of friends who knew of his sexuality. Each of them in his own way shared a similar sentiment: “There is nothing better or nothing worse than being Black, gay, and in the marching band.” For all participants, an identity as a band member and self-identification as a gay male were intertwined—they were in band to find sanctuary from the pressures they felt from society as a whole. The ever-present concern of acceptance and rejection was the principal theme in the participants’ experiences—the stereotype of who was accepting of their sexuality was being challenged constantly.
The Death of Robert Champion Jr. and Implications for Research
I began this research project with the intent to examine the experiences of a music population that had received little attention or press. While this article was being reviewed for publication, Robert Champion Jr., the drum major at an HBCU, Florida Agricultural and Mechanical University (FAMU), was killed during a hazing incident on November 28th, 2011. Due to the passing of this young Black man, the experiences of Black undergraduate students participating in HBCU marching bands became headline stories in major news organizations across the country. Specific to the FAMU death, the New York Times reported, “In the ultracompetitive atmosphere of the Marching 100, as the band is called, the verbal, emotional, and physical pain that is doled out is viewed as an extra source of pride and strength” (Alvarez & Brown, 2011, p. A22). Additionally, a few days after Champion’s death, it was reported widely that he was gay, fueling speculation of whether his death was a result of hazing, gay bashing, or perhaps both.
Although I had believed this study to be complete, the FAMU incident and the attention it received inspired me to return to the data and reinterview the participants. On December 1, I called each participant in the study one last time to ask about his reaction to the FAMU drum major’s death. During the course of each 30-min recorded phone call, I asked, “Did you experience similar hazing?” Why did this not emerge from our discussions? From this last interview, one primary implication for this research emerged. Incidents of hazing and bullying largely are underreported and not discussed, making it difficult for teachers to recognize negative experiences occurring within groups. All 4 participants stated that the hazing they experienced was not something they ever discussed, not even with their fellow band members. They each indicated that their hazing was not as severe as what was described in news reports at FAMU. However, each stated that what they did endure was shameful and embarrassing and not something, even years later, they wished to share with me or anyone else.
This present study only begins to shed light on the experiences of Black gay men participating in HBCU marching bands. The experiences of these men raise numerous questions about the role of music education in ways that are unique and multifaceted. The experiences of LGBT2Q students are unquestionably difficult during formative years, with heightened suicide ideation, cyberbullying victimization, and truancy (Robinson & Espelage, 2011). The difficult experiences surrounding the LGBT2Q person who identifies as a racial minority heighten the obstacles of negotiating social spaces.
A second implication concerns the role of the director in the experiences of band members. While previous research articles have noted the importance of band directors in the lives of music students who were music majors (Allen, 2003), participants in this study did not describe the band director as a primary influence in their band experience. Derek, Michael, Ken, and Darrell, all nonmusic majors, who identified themselves as gay and social outsiders, did not look to the band director for leadership or as mentor. This disconnect from the director is important because it calls into question the band director’s ability to impact students’ perception of band. Future research could examine the similarities and differences in ways band directors shape the musical experiences of nonmusic majors. More specifically, future studies could examine if the disconnect experienced by participants in this study could impede a teacher’s ability to create a classroom or ensemble that is experienced as equitable and safe for all students.
Educators play a key role in providing safe spaces for their students in both their words and classroom rules, but more importantly, they do so in their everyday demeanor and environment (Meyer, 2009). In K–12 settings, music educators are more likely to interact with students over the course of many academic years. This landscape of time provides for opportunities for meaningful longitudinal approaches to instruction in addition to opportunities for developing a personal rapport. It is imperative for teachers to take advantage of this time to create trusting relationships with all members, with the intent of fostering anti-oppressive educative environments. This research demonstrates that young people join ensembles for varied reasons, often for a sense of community and belonging. However, as these participants described, being a member of a musical community does not guarantee a bully- or hazing-free high school or college experience. Future quantitative studies could help determine the frequency and severity of hazing and bullying in music ensembles.
Each of the participants identified the importance of music in his life and, more importantly, the roles of marching band that sometimes were musical but often elliptical to the music experience. This research facilitates a recapitulation of basic and simple questions: Why do students really participate in music ensembles? How important are community and nonmusical elements to the student? While music education academicians have addressed these questions with numerous lenses, present-day research is needed to address why students choose to participate in music instead of other artistic outlets. Specifically, and most importantly, how can music ensembles provide safe spaces for members of an educative community that often are perceived as “the other?” Kumisharo (2004) described this approach as anti-oppressive forms of education, that is, forms of education that explicitly work against multiple oppressions. While some music education research has focused on multiple oppressions (Koza, 2010), the profession has only begun to interrogate the implicit and explicit forms of oppression within music education in empirically based research journals.
One can view anti-oppression education from numerous perspectives while drawing from feminist, critical, multicultural, queer, postcolonial, and other movements toward social justice. Regardless of lens, music education provides space where researchers can compellingly move toward social justice by addressing student agency, crisis, curriculum, uncertainly, suffering, successes, artistic expression, and so forth. Due to the uniqueness of music and music education, academics within this field can forward the topic of anti-oppressive education and social justice in ways that illuminate not only music education but the larger trajectory of this work in education as a whole.
Last, given the rich historical musical traditions ever present on HBCU campuses, it would seem logical that a similarly robust amount of writings would exist in music education journals. However, there was no empirically based research to be found that addressed the music experiences of students attending HBCUs. Detailed accounts of the HBCU musical experience are desperately needed from numerous perspectives, including historical, philosophical, and pedagogical lenses. Concurrently, given the impact of the LGBT2Q community within the arts, it seems equally illogical that as of this writing, there were no research articles reflecting this contribution within American music education research journals. A primary implication of this study is the need for empirically based research concerning underrepresented populations within the music education community.
Footnotes
Declaration of Conflicting Interests
The author declared no potential conflicts of interest with respect to the research, authorship, and/or publication of this article.
Funding
The author received no financial support for the research, authorship, and/or publication of this article.
