"Take the Note" by Camille Rogers
At Amplified Opera, we take pride in raising our voices when we feel there has been an oversight within the classical community, and this is something that continues to be worked upon within our society. In late November the Orchestre Classique de Montreal presented, As One, an opera by Laura Kaminsky with a libretto by Mark Campbell and Kimberly Reed, which follows the story about a Transgendered individual before and after transition. While we applaud this opera as a whole, as more of this content should be highlighted and performed, it felt odd that singers who identify as trans were not casted in this production. When members of the community, such as Camille Rogers (@camillerogersmezzo), tried to receive clarity on the casting choices, theirs and many other voices were immediately silenced. We at AO want everyone to have the opportunity to have their thoughts and voices heard, especially for something as crucial and sensitive as this subject manner. We support Camille and their voice, and want to share with you this powerful and meaningful statement about their experience with OCM entitled “Take the Note.”
In the opera industry there’s a saying: “take the note.” It was drilled into me as a student. Basically, it means that as a performer it’s my job to nod and smile whenever a director or conductor offers me instructions or feedback. After all, I’m supposed to be grateful for the opportunity to work in my field, so I can’t ever risk talking back or disagreeing. As you might imagine, this makes for a pervasive culture of silence—eyes meeting uncomfortably across rehearsal rooms, hoping that someone will speak up while knowing that nobody will.
I’m still a student, but I’m in a doctorate now and I’ve decided I would like to throw the phrase “take the note” directly into the trash. Or rather, maybe I’d like to throw it back to the people in power who have benefitted from this culture of silence. It’s time that classical music institutions learn to “take the note” and receive feedback from marginalized artists.
As you might be able to tell, it’s been an intense week for me.
The short story is this: last week Orchestre Classique de Montréal blocked me and many others who commented on their Instagram post advertising their production of the opera “As One.” The ad, which was also reposted by Opera Canada, was tagged with #TransAwarenessWeek and featured the faces of the two cisgender singers they had cast to play Hannah, the central character. Premiered in 2014, “As One” tells the story of Hannah Before (played by a baritone) and Hannah After (played by a mezzo-soprano), referring to Hannah’s physical and social transition as a trans woman.
Even writing this description I’m cringing at the conceit of casting two different people to play a trans person pre- and post-transition. I’m not a trans woman, so I can’t speak to that particular experience—nor are trans women a monolith. I can, however, speak to my own experience as a non-binary trans person. For me, transition is a hugely loaded concept, since even though I’m “out” as non-binary it’s basically impossible for me to move through the world without being misgendered in one way or another. For the most part I’m perceived as a cis woman, which affords me a certain measure of safety, but it also means that no matter how I dress or act my gender is constantly invalidated. Every time I’m called “ma’am” in the grocery store I wonder whether, if that person knew the truth about my transness, they would treat me with derision or even violence.
For me, and for a lot of trans people, transition is not a process of becoming a different person. It’s a release, a turn towards who we’ve always been and a relinquishing of pretending to be someone we’re not and never truly were. Whether or not we look or sound different before or after is not the point. Our bodies do not exist to be understood by cisgender people, and we should not have to look like cis people in order to have our genders respected and affirmed. Trans bodies are beautiful and infinitely diverse, and deserve to be celebrated in all their complexity.
When I posted that initial comment on Orchestre Classique de Montréal’s Instagram, I had no idea that it would receive so much attention. Mostly, I wanted to give some honest feedback. I appreciate everyone who offered support through social media and contributed to the discussion. My friends and colleagues at Amplified Opera lived up to their name and got the word out to a much wider base. Many other cis allies spread the word, including American singer Julia Bullock. In particular I want to thank the trans and Two Spirit artists who joined the conversation and made their voices heard: Avery Jean Brennan, Olivia Shortt, Teiya Kasahara, and Katherine Goforth. I have learned so much from their perspectives on this. In a strange twist, this experience has connected me to many more trans colleagues, which is something I truly treasure. Being trans in any industry can be isolating, and classical music is no exception.
As of this Thursday (November 26, 2020), Orchestre Classique de Montréal still hasn’t taken the note. They’ve removed restrictions on all the users they blocked, and released a statement explaining their casting process and the fact that they received permission from the work’s co-librettist, Kimberly Reed, to cast cis singers. They also point out that they hosted an online panel of trans artists and hired Montréal performer Tranna Wintour as a consultant. I want to appreciate the effort here—and acknowledge that it still isn’t enough.
For me, this situation highlights three interconnected issues, some more complex than others.
First: I can think of no possible situation which would make it appropriate to cast a cis actor in a trans role.
That shouldn’t need explanation, but here’s some anyway: the choice of who to cast in a trans role holds a lot of weight because of a long history of extremely problematic portrayals of trans people in media. Casting a cis person in a trans role perpetuates the misconception that trans people are just like cis people, but somehow in disguise. It can also perpetuate stereotypical narratives of trans people only becoming “real” once they go through certain elements of physical transition and are able to “pass” as cisgender. Trans people’s validity is not up for debate, no matter where they might be in their transition. Further, not all trans people can or want to pass as cis or even physically transition at all, and that should not be a prerequisite of having their gender respected and validated.
Second: Organizations need to shift their mindset when it comes to engaging with marginalized communities. Instead of capitalizing on ‘trendy’ stories of suffering meant to elicit pity in audiences, it’s crucial to reach out to marginalized artists and ask them what kind of art they would like to see. Or better yet, ask what kind of art they are already creating—because I don’t know if I’ve ever met a trans artist who didn’t have a dream project at least simmering in the back of their mind.
Third: Nowhere in their statement does OCdeM acknowledge the fact that their response to receiving feedback from the community they were ostensibly attempting to celebrate was to shut down any discussion, block users, and delete comments. We can throw around a lot of really loaded terms like calling out, calling in, and cancel culture, many of which have been appropriated and twisted beyond their original anti-oppressive roots. But when it really comes down to it, this is about feedback—which, from my own perspective as an educator, is a totally neutral concept. Feedback can be negative or positive, and it can also be offered in good faith or in bad faith. I don’t mean that marginalized people should have to police their tone or phrase their feedback perfectly in order to be heard. But there are certainly ways feedback can be offered in bad faith—it can be weaponized as a punishment rather than a constructive attempt to raise awareness and ask for change and accountability.
With that in mind, I want to be clear that OCdeM is a relatively small organization within the wider Canadian classical music scene and I don’t think they should be disproportionately targeted in this. This is not an isolated example of inappropriate casting, but rather only one example of an industry-wide pattern of erasing marginalized artists from their own stories. So, what can OCdeM and other organizations to do in order to “take the note”?
Cast trans artists, not just as trans characters but in all kinds of roles! Trans artists are already working in your industry, but you may have to look harder as they face disproportionate barriers to their careers.
Make your rehearsal and work spaces safer for trans people. It’s not responsible to hire trans artists and then expect them to work under uncomfortable and unsafe circumstances. Fostering a safer space takes work, not just a hashtag or a rainbow flag sticker. Respect and affirm others’ identities, use gender neutral language, introduce yourself with your pronouns, provide access to gender neutral bathrooms and changing rooms, and challenge transphobia whenever it arises.
Reach out to trans artists and ask what kind of projects they would like to be involved in—follow their lead!
Be open to receiving feedback, especially when it comes from marginalized communities. Learn from your mistakes, apologize, and do better in the future.
— Camille Rogers