Why Is Our Band All Men?
Sometimes when I attend my musician colleagues’ performances, I will ask them, “Why is your band all men?” As usual, I am perverse. I ask this question even as I know the near universal response will be defensiveness. But really, I just want them to think about it. I want them to consider the question; maybe become interested. They did not invent patriarchy. But they are perpetuating it if they cannot even consider the question.
If the question is making you feel defensive, this is a (helpful) red flag. As I’ve written, much jazz education teaches young white men to be comfortable in all white male environments and uncomfortable (or unhappy) in environments that are not exclusive. The good news is: a win-win lies ahead. Inclusive environments are better and are in our future. But to be in these spaces, folks who have learned exclusivity have some woodshedding to do.
In recent years, musicians in jazz discussion groups have been asking themselves (and their band), “Why is our band all men?” While I will not share specifics, these young men have been honest about what they saw and what they have done to keep women out of their groups. Their stories align with the reasons orchestras started holding anonymous auditions: we have bias when we see the performer. Women will sound like they are making more mistakes; men’s mistakes are overlooked; Asians will sound like they lack passion; white people will convey Brahms’ sublimity, etc. In addition to this type of bias, many men will just want to work with other men. We have laws against that type of discrimination in other fields, but not in music. Men have to be honest with themselves and, eek, regulate themselves. If you think you are not the problem, well, that is precisely the problem. What the young men shared, they noticed in retrospect. Before engaging in these group discussions, they would have just assumed their all-male band wasn’t intentional: there just weren’t any women good enough. A closer look revealed to them that was not true.
Such honest revelations from men who begin to recognize how sexism operates in music and in their own minds give me tremendous hope. There is nothing unique or unusual about the experiences reported. These were not some outlier, especially sexist folks. The significant difference between them and my musician colleagues is that they have:
1) taken a close look and
2) been honest about what they saw.
If you say, “I’m trying,” but you really aren’t doing anything—that same “I’m trying” attitude by centered white men in the past has led you to feel bad today when asked about your all-male band. Put the problem in the right place. Is the problem of your exclusive approach to music my problem or is it yours? Are we here today because of the things I was saying and doing in the 2000s or because of the white men who also weren’t listening to me then? The win-win I referenced above is this: if you make common cause with others, you will be less anxious and depressed. When the question leads you to think about other people rather than yourself, you will be starting a journey that leads to a better community and better music-making, helping to change a system that has marginalized people who loved making music just as much as you love making music.
Take a look. Be honest. Work. (Share in the comments some honest stories about how your band became all men or how you’ve seen men and women treated differently by club owners, promoters, other musicians). It is hard to turn this ship around and it takes persistence. But then you won’t have to feel bad when someone asks you, “why is your band all men?” You will know the answer and you will know why it is a problem.
