An open letter to higher education music departments,
There is an insidious problem in higher education music departments around the country. It is one that for the last 100 years many have tried to address, but none succeeded in changing it. We view progress as having a BIPOC professor and assigning them the task of teaching the music of their people. We have banished, almost entirely, the music of women and BIPOC artists from the standard repertoire. We assign the very sound of a voice based on the look of a person; if you are black you must be able to sing gospel (and opera is just a plus) and you’ll likely be hard pressed to find a teacher in most departments who is trained to teach you.
You see, we beat out creativity from the earliest stages of music lessons. We tell children that the scale is one thing, despite being trained in first piano and voice lessons to sing/play pentatonic scales. We tell them that only the music on the page is right. From the earliest moments of music making we deem ‘correctness’ to be the goal. We try to make young children pitch their voices higher and if they won’t they don’t pass to the next level. By doing so, we remove diversity.
I started singing at an early age, maybe 5 or so. My earliest memory is as a Wiseman (under the watchful eye of a white depiction of Jesus Christ) where I ran off stage because I wasn’t correct. I remember thru high school thinking I was stupid and not talented because my voice wouldn’t do what the white kids’ could, despite my white skin. By this time I had learned that it was best to keep my biraciality quiet. When I arrived as a freshman at Luther College, I had a diversity scholarship for my 50% blackness, but I still wasn’t allowed to pursue my voice in its truest form. To be honest, I don’t think I heard about a single BIPOC artist outside of singing spirituals in choir throughout my entire undergraduate (or graduate) career. And THAT is the problem.
Organizations and colleges are flabbergasted right now at just how little their professors know about the music of anyone other than dead white men. They are starting to tear down the idea that this may not be the most effective music to learn from. And they ask, ‘what can we do?’ The answer is simple: teach BIPOC music alongside the white repertory and find similar lessons that you find in white music, trust that it isn’t hard because much of our cannon currently can be traced to African roots.
Since my time in academia I have readily embraced my biracial heritage and built my career performing and teaching music of all genres and all races. I have coached nearly a hundred voices to their own unique glory. They are not cookie cutters like I was taught to teach. Yes, technique is essentially the same for every voice, but uniqueness requires an ear for something other than the white sound we hear from the majority of the walls of the largest opera houses in the world. I do not credit my education for teaching me this, I have had to adapt.
21st century musicians and educators are having to adapt just to survive. Teaching that there is only one path to ‘greatness’ is no longer acceptable. Teaching that there is only one sound for a fach is no longer acceptable. Teaching the standard repertoire no longer effectively equates into a successful musical career.
Covid-19 has devastated our community. We can continue to sit on our hands and wait for someone to save schools or we can work together to save them. Reach out to your networks of alumni working in artistic activism, arts administration, and education to have them speak and share their experiences. Learn from us what you can do better. Those of us not insulated by collegiate positions are still successful and our success should be acknowledged by you, whether it is on the path you thought you created for us or the ones you thought you snuffed out.
Acknowledge. Become uncomfortable. Uncomfortable enough to change. To survive we must change the system together.
Respectfully,
Tara Priolo
Luther College ‘13
University of Minnesota, Duluth ‘15
www.tarapriolo.com