William Wells Brown
The following year, the United States passed the Fugitive Slave Act, and - for fear of his and his family's safety - Wells stayed in England, only to leave in 1854 when his freedom was purchased. During his time in England, his daughters gained the education he never had, and Brown became a prolific writer in many genres (including plays and travel writing). He also documented the text of many songs sung at Anti-Slavery meetings in a compilation called The Anti-Slavery Harp; A Collection of Songs for Anti-Slavery Meetings. (It is also worth while mentioning that his personal slave narrative, published two years after Douglass's, was also a US bestseller, second to that of Frederick Douglass's.)
Boston Female Anti Slavery Society
"Believing slavery to be a direct violation of the laws of God, and productive of a vast amount of misery and crime; and convinced that its abolition can only be affected by an acknowledgement of the justice and necessity of immediate emancipation, - we hereby agree to form ourselves into a Society TO AID AND ASSIST IN THIS RIGHTEOUS CAUSE AS FAR AS LIES WITHIN OUR POWER".
This particular group was interracial, and provided further momentum for other anti-slavery societies at the time, including the Salem Female Anti-Slavery Society (which was begun by a group of Black women, and expanded to become interracial after 2 years).
Hello everyone! Anthony Green here, and I wanted to share with you a reflection.
Last month, The New York Times published a short article – “Great Divide in the Concert Hall: Black Composers Discuss the Role of Race”, by William Robin (8 August 2014) – in which Black composers of “Classical music” discuss what it means to be a Black composer today. This article comes in the line of some notable articles discussing various aspects of this subject, including the Guardian article “Class, Race, and Classical Music” by Candace Allen (4 April 2014), and “How African Americans Changed Classical Music” by Leonard Slatkin (22 February 2014). Each article contains one or more theses about this issue, yet one singular article or a collection of articles with a specific (short) length cannot fully address this problem. My immediate emotional response to these articles was mixed. As a Black composer, I am happy that such popular media sources are bringing light to this topic. Similarly, I am disgusted that such articles about “the problems of Blacks in Classical music” are necessary to make changes, rather than these media sources simply publishing more articles about the notable Black artists they have highlighted, but I digress.
Foremost, there is a problem of expectation. This particular issue was discussed in every article that I mentioned, and – to me – is the biggest issue concerning the presence, active and passive participation, and the promotion of Blacks in Classical music.
Point one: Black artists are not expected to be involved in Classical music. Not only does a majority of the Black community consider Classical music to be “elitist” or plain and simply “bad”, but the institution of Classical music is known to be predominantly non-Black. Therefore, the expectation from non-Blacks to see Blacks involved in this tradition is rather low, despite the long history of Blacks involved in this tradition. Perhaps this last point is more associated with a sort-of non-deliberate institutional racism that looms over the Classical music industry; if this industry is mostly associated with non-Blacks, then it just means we are not wanted. Somehow, certain analogous sports industries have overcome this scorn, golf and tennis in particular. But I still wonder if stars like Tiger Woods and the Williams sisters would have such fame if they weren’t Black. Their skin color is a part of their story. By the way, who are the other Black golfers playing today other than Mr. Woods? Does it even matter that they are Black?
Point two: when a Black artist is involved in music in some way, it is expected for this artist to be involved in Jazz or another more popular style of music, and if involved in Classical music, to be a vocalist. While I was studying at New England Conservatory, it was more likely for someone – Black or non-Black – to ask me “are you a vocalist?” rather than “what are you studying?” Even worse, I cannot count the number of times I’ve heard someone say to me “Don’t forget your roots.” I would get such a comment usually from a Black person after telling him or her that I am a Classical composer. I desperately wanted to retort, “Yes, I know much about Chevalier de Saint Georges andSamuel Coleridge-Taylor, and I love more recent composers like Ed Bland and Pamela Zand Olly Wilson. I count these wonderful composers as part of my ‘cultural-musical’ roots. Have you heard of any of these people?”
Point three: Black composers should compose music that reflects a typical, popular, predominantly Black experience. The worst aspect of the expectation problem comes even further when examining the type of music that a Black composer must compose to be taken seriously. It is expected, even today, that a Black Classical composer should compose Classical music that has some element of Jazz or Rock or R&B or Blues or Gospel or Funk or Spirituals. Sometimes it is even better if the title of the piece reflect this, for example “Afro-American Symphony” or “Five Movements in Color.” I think when people encounter the score and audio to my piece 3 Groups, it causes a bit of confusion. Not only is the title rather vague, but not something generic like Sonata No. 8 or Piece for Chamber Ensemble, but the music is a meditative, unstable, non-4/4 type of experimental music, with a score that looks mostly blank, and has notes without stems. Coincidentally, this piece won a competition where the scores where judged blindly. Since then – since my face and website with my headshots are now associated with this work and can be easily googled, it has not been performed.
It is apparent that I can discuss the issue of expectation alone in a document of about 100 pages, and probably still not exhaust the issue, while still not discussing other issues such as the nature of enjoying Classical music (which is, for the most part, less stereotypically immediate than more popular music), how the changing face of Classical music can never be separated from its silently racist, predominantly non-Black past, and how sub-culture does NOT have a problem with Blacks involved in Classical music, but is rarely taken seriously by the mega-institutions responsible for creating the face of Classical music as it is today. And even then, I would be far away from discussing the non-race-related issues of the Classical music industry (includingbig prizes given to questionably-deserving artists, indirectly ruining the personal worth of such prizes, and inevitably destroying their status as a symbol of achievement). Such non-race-related issues, in my opinion, get in the way of the race-issue being taken seriously, and also discourage any aspiring Classical artist – Black or non-Black – from entering this highly political world that doesn’t seem political to those who are not involved. But I would like to end my reflection with this question posed by Leonard Slatkin:
“Is going to hear music written by an African-American meaningful – not just to the regular attendees, but is it meaningful within the African-American community? Does it inspire others to want to follow that? I wish I could answer that question. I don’t know.”
Honestly, I don’t know either. But I do know this: hearing music written by Black composers inspired me, and I wouldn’t be attempting to inspire Black and non-Black communities within and outside the context of Castle of our Skins if I had never done so.
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