Women in classical music

I'm a woman.  I work in classical music.  Most opera conductors who've stood in the darkened pit, flinging their arms in my general direction, have been men.  Most of the directors who've told me to enter from stage left (or to find my way to the trapdoor under the stage) have been men.  My first voice teachers were men.  My first piano teachers were women.  My first choral directors were women.  My musicology adviser at the masters' level is a man.  My doctoral dissertation adviser is a woman.  My longtime mentor voice teacher was a man.  My current voice teacher is a woman.  I've had women and men hold my ass to the fire and demand better of me, demand that I work harder, push my own boundaries, practice smarter, stand up for myself, teach myself, teach others to teach themselves.  My career is the sum of many parts and many people, to whom I am ever grateful.

Recently, the question of gender inequality in classical music has made it into the news.  NPR posted this article about women conductors and the men who were foolish enough to talk about their neanderthal views on female conductors to reporters.  That's not the focus of my writing today, as Alex Ross  more than sufficiently addresses the issue (and the incredible hubris and stupidity of the men - I won't call them 'gentlemen' - who removed all doubt of their lacking in sense by opening their mouths). The main area of these articles deals with the question (who knew it was a question?) of women conductors in the professional sphere.  I remember seeing JoAnn Falletta conduct the Louisiana Phil when I was a teenager - in hindsight, the inclusion of John Adams' "The Chairman Dances" from Nixon in China was pretty adventurous programming for south LA - and she was a fireball.  I even remember thinking, "Wow, this woman is a total badass."  Now I've snored through some conductors in my time (both on and off the stage) and I can tell you that it has nothing to do with their gender.  If you can stand in front of an orchestra and do the job with excellence and passion, you can do the job.  Period.  But gender bias isn't about whether or not you can do the job.  Gender bias is about someone else's ideas and someone else's agenda.  

In the NPR article, Anastasia Tsioulcas writes,

"But what I find perhaps most astonishing is the number of assumptions made about women's lives. What the feminist revolution was about, in many ways, was advocating self-agency for women....I would like to hear the women in our community speak up as well, without fear of embarrassment, contempt or retribution."

Well, Anastasia, this is me, speaking up.  First, I want to say that I don't speak for all women, I don't speak for all opera singers, I don't speak for all sopranos, and I don't even speak for all coloraturas between the ages of 30 and 40.  I only speak for myself and from my own experience as a female singer in the business of opera.

Anyone who's ever sung in choir knows that there are way more female singers than men.  This, in itself, is a dissertation waiting to be written.  So by the time you get to be a professional singer (for my purposes, I define this as making a living and paying your bills primarily from singing), you can do the math.  Sopranos come in econo-packs, so you'd better work your tuchus off to be the best at what you do, the fittest and the most flexible, with extra skills like roller-skating/gymnastics/ballet/tap-dancing/whistling/Irish step-dancing, and you'd better know that you're not an endangered species.  You've spent years of your life in a practice room, in rehearsals, in voice lessons, in coachings, you've finally gotten to the point where you get a paying gig, and at this point, you get the added bonus of a little gaslighting.  Don't expect humane treatment or respect - you're a soprano, you should feel lucky you have a job.  Don't ever say no when a director asks you to do something, even if it's slightly unsafe - you are so very replaceable.  Don't second-guess an offer to work on a role, even if it's incredibly wrong for you - there are way more fish in the sea and by the way you're replaceable.  You're replaceable.  You are not special.  You are just another soprano.  You are just another woman.  You are not a unique and special snowflake.  Quit asking for special treatment.  You're replaceable.

This doesn't happen everywhere and it doesn't happen to everyone.  But if you have even slightly pleaser-ish tendencies, you can and will be run over by your own good manners, with the help of anyone who doesn't see you as a person.  A few years ago, I even developed my own little theory to help me deal with this - rather, to help me take getting or not getting a gig in stride, based on the idea that if you're not what a company is shopping for, it's not a reflection on your worth as an artist.  And it't not.  But that's still not what I'm talking about.  There's this funny (not ha-ha) slightly abusive  quality to the kind of things you're told about your worth.  Some of it is definitely for your own good - expecting to get out of school and be picked up by a major house 15 minutes later is unrealistic, you will eventually have to teach yourself your music so pay attention in sight-singing class, your body is your instrument so treat it like a temple not a trash compactor, be on time because tardiness is a sign of disrespect, etc.  But the part where you get reminded how replaceable you are and how you'd better get along and not make any waves, the proportion of truth to bullshit on that one weighs a little heavy on the bullshit.

I have had wonderful people along the way who told me to stick up for myself.  With my agent, who once yelled at me and reminded me that I'm not the ONLY Queen on their roster.  With conductors, who say, "but it's mic'd and we're going to take this to a bigger venue - are you sure you won't sing Turandot?"  With directors who, had I not called stop and insisted it was dangerous, would have let me hobble down a perilously steep set of stairs in a 4-inch pencil stiletto.  I had good parents who loved me and told me I was valuable.  I had good teachers who took me to task when I was an ass.  But somewhere in the middle, I was also told that sopranos were worth less than other singers.  That female singers were worth less than male singers.  That I should lie about my age and flirt back when flirted with and never speak about my husband and always show cleavage and never EVER talk about having children and be smart but not too smart and always be 150% better than any of my colleagues, just to be taken remotely seriously.  And I say now, in possession of all of my faculties and a doctorate in music and all of 33 years on this earth that this MUST STOP.  NOW.

Being a musician is hard work and it demands commitment and sacrifice.  But self-worth should NOT stand on the list of things one must sacrifice.  Missy Mazzoli, kicking ass and taking names over on the composition side of the music business, had this to say on the NPR article:

"Any women who makes it through grad school with a degree in music is tough enough to see through blatant sexism pretty quickly. But conducting careers don't start in your 30s; a career in music usually begins in your early teens at the latest. We need to look at our daughters and pinpoint when they stopped raising their hands in class. And we need to look at these man-child thirty-something conductors and figure out when these sexist attitudes took root. Probably around the same age. If we want to solve the "female problem" in classical music, let's start a summer program for female composers and conductors in their early teens. Let's give them confidence and support and while we're at it, some amazing recordings and video of their work so they can get into the best schools, rise to positions of power and eventually fire all these misogynist douchebags."

To all of the wonderful people with whom and for whom I've worked, I am so grateful to you for your presence in my career and in my life.  I am a better musician and a better person because of you.  But to anyone, male or female, who wishes to advance their career on bias that diminishes the innate value of another, my future students are coming for you.  My future children are coming for you.  My friends are coming for you.  And we can smell the stink off of your cowardice from two time zones away.