My First Year at Eastman

The costs of overprotected men - and what to do about it.

If you’re here, you’ve probably read the recent Vulture article by Sammy Sussman on abuses at the New York Philharmonic.

If not, you should. And then you should sign the petitions to re-open the investigation and to release Cara Kizer from her NDA.

That article hit me so hard it woke me up in the middle of the night after I read it.

I’ve never been sexually assaulted, but I have dealt with a lot of aggressive, entitled men in this field and the institutions that protect them– most recently at the Eastman School of Music.

What Happened

It’s impossible, in situations like these, to know how much to share and how much not to, especially in a forum as wide-open as the internet. Over-sharing can feel irresponsible. So can under-sharing. It leaves an awful lot to the imagination.

The ambiguity of that decision is one reason, among many, that so many people in problem situations say nothing. I’m not going to do that. Saying nothing can be the most irresponsible thing of all. But one of many, many costs of going through a situation like this is agonizing over the balance between saying too much and not saying enough.

I’m a doctoral student in orchestral conducting at Eastman - one of very, very few women admitted to the program in its history. Six weeks into my first semester, I had to report a long list of concerns about a faculty member.

Some of it was hostile, unprofessional behavior and some troubling comments - toward and about other students. Some of the hostility was directed at me, in addition to some gender-based remarks and privacy concerns. By the time I raised concerns, the situation had become extremely uncomfortable. Most of it was clearly documented. And the problems weren’t new. He said he’d gotten “a slap on the wrist” for bad behavior in the past.

The school was well aware of ongoing issues. I took a long report to the appropriate member of Eastman’s leadership. His first advice was that I transfer out of the school all together, because, he said, “I don’t want things to get bad for you.”

I didn’t expect a perfect response, but I was genuinely shocked by the degree - bordering on adulation - to which Eastman protected its faculty - despite clear-cut, chronic issues of behavior and competence. (Badly behaved geniuses are a myth. I’ve never met one - just lots of emperors who have no clothes.)

The first solution I accepted was limiting my contact with the situation. It wasn’t a perfect plan, but it allowed me to get on with my life. When the faculty member objected, Eastman altered the agreement to suit his wishes. I wasn’t asked - just told that if I didn’t comply, I wouldn’t get my degree - despite the fact that several members of the school’s leadership had expressed concern about our having prolonged contact.

I refused, and told Eastman they were welcome to fail me out of the program. What ensued was an administrative nightmare, and it took three tenured faculty members - all women - taking up the issue on my behalf, and my decision to initiate a university investigation (on issues that were largely documented and not in dispute), to even get a partial resolution.

Even then, I was in an enormously compromised position. I lost opportunities I would have otherwise had and lost the potential for references. I also spent the entire first year of my doctorate in a state of constant stress, discomfort, and distraction.

Other students and faculty members in my department offered little support, despite being aware of the situation. Most didn’t even offer a private word of concern. Some excused and enabled the behavior. It is continually shocking to me that an entire professional culture still treates this kind of thing as normal.

I’m a doctoral student, and I came back to the degree after spending time in the professional field. This was a nearly impossible process for me to manage, and it has taken a huge toll on my work and sanity. If one of Eastman’s many 17- or 18-year-old students took this on, it’s hard to imagine how they could make it through. Mine wasn’t the worst situation imaginable, and it was still hugely damaging.

I’ve said repeatedly, for nearly nine months, that the attitudes Eastman operates on - and models for its students - are irresponsible. The situation I experienced is a direct antecedent to the kind of abuse seen at the New York Philharmonic and so many other places. The degree is different, but the mechanisms are exactly the same. 

Students are learning those lessons - of fear, compliance, silence, the normalization of abuse - right here, right now. You don’t have to teach those lessons explicitly. You just have to make it clear who is protected and who is not, and the lessons teach themselves.

Eastman has only doubled down and deflected. I have been repeatedly lectured on the rights and status of its faculty members. I have seen some truly extraordinary mental gymnastics performed on behalf of the man I reported.  Because – as Eastman’s Title IX Coordinator told me – “He’s faculty, so we trust his judgment.”

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It’s really heartbreaking to think about what I might have accomplished with the time and attention I’ve lost to this - and so many situations like it. It has been desperately hard to be the the person who’s not around, who disappears, who is endlessly distracted - with no explanation.

It’s been painful to feel the situation is affecting my work in a place where I really wanted it to shine - because Eastman is filled with musicians and scholars for whom I have tremendous respect, and whose respect I would sincerely like to have.

I feel a real sense of grief when I compare that to what I wanted out of this time - focus, growth, a chance to stretch my skills in a safe space. And I feel absolutely enraged that an entire group of people decided my work and time was a reasonable sacrifice to make to an entitled man’s status and ego - and that it’s not the only sacrifice made on that altar.

I don’t believe in despair, but I'll admit it creeps up on me when I think about how many times it’s happened - to me and to others.

Where are all the women? The women conductors, principal players, brass players, bassists, composers, percussionists?

Their work and time are stolen - over and over again - by sheer, blind misogyny. Or by the slow, invisible erosion of self-worth that comes from playing nice and staying small, knowing they’ll be punished and silenced if they don’t.

Male aggression and entitlement are so normalized in this field, it’s almost invisible. Some of the aggression is physical, some of it is not, but it’s all cut from the same cloth.

Excusing it, protecting it, enabling it - it’s not an antiquated practice from the distant bad-old days. It’s alive and well in many, many spaces - the Eastman School of Music among them.

What needs to happen

I’m calling for these steps specifically at Eastman. Some of them could and should be taken by other music schools. Cultural problems like these are widespread.

If you’re a stakeholder at Eastman or the U of R who cares about the well-being of students, you should call for these changes, too.

1. There are some individuals who should no longer be employed in their current positions - those with unacceptable behavior and those that insist on looking the other way, no matter the expense.

   
   Instead of thinking how high the bar should be for firing someone, we need to think about how high the bar should be for protecting people in vulnerable positions. We also need to stop buying into the idea that these men hold these positions as their birthright.
   
   Plus - it would be refreshing to see Eastman and the University of Rochester take a stand on this for once in their existence.

   
   

2. The school needs to adopt rigorous procedures to deal with bad behavior from faculty members before it escalates.

   
   An anti-bullying policy would be a good start. It’s especially relevant in music schools, where faculty and students are in close contact and abuses are still, somehow, normalized in conservatory culture.
   
   

   It doesn’t need to be a slippery slope to censorship or lower standards of teaching. The best, most rigorous teaching I’ve seen at Eastman – and I have seen a lot of it, I’m happy to say -  comes from faculty who never come close to crossing a professional boundary. If you don’t hold yourself to a professional standard, you can’t hold your students to one.
   
   

3. There needs to be a clear, quick safety net for students who raise concerns. They need to be able to remove themselves from problem situations in a way that minimizes the impact on their work and well-being. Currently there are no processes in place - one of many things that shocked me walking through this .
   
   I said this to Dean Jamal Rossi in one of many meetings about my own situation. His response was that he couldn’t “wave a magic wand” to make that happen. This is dismissive nonsense. Pulling rabbits out of hats requires a magic wand. Protecting your students requires basic institutional will and leadership.

   
   

4. Eastman needs to have the same kinds of serious discussions about gender – as well as accountability, abuse of power, and entitlement – that it attempted – successfully or not – to have on race after the murder of George Floyd.
   
   Women should be asked to lead those discussions. (And be free to turn down the invitation.) Men need to do the time- and attention-consuming legwork required to have them.

   
   

5. All departments – but male-dominated departments in particular – should agree to some standards and accountability on equity and safety for women and gender non-conforming individuals.
   
   Unless you’re doing a demonstrably excellent job supporting women in your department, have the humility to agree to some basic standards and transparency. Send a message to your students, your classmates, your colleagues that you embrace accountability.

What you should do

Say something. Then do something.

Better yet, say something that costs you. Do something that costs you.

If I can, you can.

Share this story and contact these people and tell them you’d like to see the changes I listed above:

• Jamal Rossi, Dean of the Eastman School of Music: jrossi@esm.rochester.edu

• David Figlio, Provost of the University of Rochester: provost@rochester.edu

• Sarah Mangelsdorf, President of the University of Rochester: ThePresidentsOffice@rochester.edu

Eastman just appointed Kate Sheeran to be its new dean. I’m sure she’s amply qualified, but this is an unfortunately predictable set up for women in leadership – to be shoved into a problem situation you didn’t create. Have some sympathy, but still demand action.

And don’t buy any “this-is-for-the-next-dean-to-handle” excuses. There are plenty of people in this community who can lead these conversations. Maybe you’re one of them. Waiting around for someone else to do something is more than half the problem.

Postscript: To the Women

For how does it profit a woman if she gains the whole world, but loses her soul?

We hear the same message all the time – that we can’t confront this stuff, or “things will get bad” for us. Sometimes it’s spoken. Usually it’s not. It’s even more powerful left unsaid.

I’m here to tell you that it’s absolutely true. Things will get bad. I’ve seen it, I’ve experienced it, and not just at Eastman.

Nothing – I mean nothing - makes entitled men lose their minds and show their teeth like a woman saying no to their nonsense. And nothing makes an institution clamp down faster than threatening its status quo, even if that status quo is directly harmful to you, even if they know it. 

It’s something you truly have to see to believe – which is one reason, among many, that you should believe women.

I’m just not afraid of it anymore. I can’t afford to be. Every time I decide not to nod and smile and duck, my work - my conducting, my physical gesture and presence, my ability to be available for people - gets that much better. It gains momentum every time I say no to the bullshit – even if I’m the only one in the room who will say it. You can’t have soul and courage onstage if you don’t have it off.

The trade-off is experiencing levels of hostility I never saw coming – although generations of women who have made that trade could have warned me. But I’ll take it any day over living in a crouch. Because I’m sure that being fully who I am is the safest place to be.

I can’t afford to be afraid. You can’t either. We need you. You’re worth ten of the jerks and a hundred of the cowards that protect them. We need your voice, your work, your full self.

Stand up. Speak up. The walls may come tumbling down. You might be disappointed. You may be called all sorts of things. People you thought would do the right thing won’t. It might hurt. It might cost you.

But not standing, not speaking, will cost you so much more. It will cost you – you. And we can’t afford to lose that.

And, yes, I really do still have hope

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Want to take action? This link will direct you to email ESM’s leadership with a call for change.

Post-post-script: On my desk, I have a big stack of notes on post-its that I have been meaning to turn into this very blog for a while. I never expected it to start like this.

Subscribe and I’ll do my best to write more.

Where are all the women? I can give you a few clues.