It Takes a Village

On Old Boys Clubs

A follow up to My First Year at Eastman

It’s never, ever one guy. One guy can do a lot of damage on his own, but for things to truly go off-road, it takes a village.

The most well-meaning people in my own situation have said to me, “So you had problems with Prof. X. Maybe you can work with Profs. Y or Z. They’re the good guys.”

Not quite. But I envy your naïveté.

I had problems with Prof. X most recently. (And he looped in Prof. A - known abuser - from another university. The buddy system works for all occasions.)

And Prof. Y? Oh, I had problems with Prof. Y before I ever walked in the door - and I know I’m not the only one. Right off the bat, that’s two on-site problem profs and one that’s working remote.

Now, I haven’t had any problems with Prof. Z. But after he learned that I’d reported Prof. X, he talked about what awesome hires Profs. X and Y had been in his very next lecture, and all the things he loved about those guys.

I was shocked. I objected. I said the issue needed to be addressed.

The only response I got was a hastily written syllabus - the second one I’ve received this semester in response to raising concerns - which made it quite clear that the subject was closed. I also got a friendly note from university attorneys that my message had been passed to them, although they did not say by whom.

In other words: Sit down and shut. up. We are. not. talking. about. this.

Methinks the institution doth protest too much.

And then there were the students of Professors X, Y, and Z, who were overwhelmingly, self-servingly silent. (And one of them works for the Philadelphia Orchestra, where they’re awfully eager to #believewomen and #supportcara all of a sudden.)

The next time you wonder how a field becomes male-dominated, ask how many of the nice young yes-men you hire get their opportunities by cozying up to problematic old men - and at whose expense.

Every man who has been supported by Eastman’s conducting programs - or the many programs, festivals, competitions, and awards like it, and there are many - has had his career subsidized by sexism and misogyny.

It’s paid for by women whose work is cut down, cut short, derailed, forced to play it safe out of sheer discomfort, or never allowed in to begin with. Start coming to terms with what that means.

Eastman’s conducting department is sexist. Full stop.

And - everybody - please stop calling these places “old boys clubs.” It makes it sound cute, quaint, harmless.

One of the most insidious responses to sexism is the shrug, the sigh, the hand on the shoulder, the half-whisper, “Oh, honey, this is just the way things are.” (Or, as one woman in Eastman’s leadership urgently advised me, “Now, you know he’s not going anywhere.”)

Drop the euphemism and start calling them what they are: ecosystems of bullies and cowards, thriving in the institutions that look the other way. Networks of men who protect and promote each other at women’s physical, psychological, and material expense.

Now stop offering your thoughts and prayers and do something.

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