At a passing glance, it may seem odd that the International Women’s Brass Conference, a nonprofit that’s worked with (at least some) gender-marginalized people since its inception, might not handle gender very well. Folks who can’t see non-cis microaggressions may never spot any issues in their social media content. People who have never been to an IWBC conference (or who only stayed for the competitions) may be unfamiliar with the ways in which gatekeeping is enforced not only in how expensive attendance is but in how attendees are treated once they arrive. Those who aren’t aware of the current legislative firestorm around trans and gender-expansive people in the U.S. may not think to question the assertions IWBC has made regarding its upcoming 2022 conference at the University of North Texas.
However, all of these things and more have crossed my mind over the course of 2021. And in light of continuing missteps and inaction from IWBC leadership, particularly as acceptance and rejection letters are being sent to hopeful presenters, I’d like to chronicle some of the biggest red flags here so those interested can access many of them in one place. This is by no means a comprehensive accounting—my own experiences with IWBC only date back to about mid-2018, I’m white and abled, and I attended the 2019 conference at ASU while all but the handful of folks I’d confided in assumed I was a cis woman. There are important, differently-marginalized perspectives that I can reference but cannot represent myself, especially the experiences and concerns of our Black, Brown, Indigenous, and Asian colleagues. As more writings and public online commentary about IWBC cross my desk, I’ll link them within this post. If you’re here, I implore you to seek out not only the thoughts I’ve laid out below but also insights I’ve missed and those that are yet to be articulated.
As transformative an experience as IWBC 2019 was for me in some ways, certain events made me pay close attention to the organization’s forthcoming endeavors. I’d hoped to see scholarships (to the conference or otherwise) and other opportunities specifically aimed at offering financial assistance or recognition to Black, Brown, Indigenous, and Asian brass players, preferably alongside other endeavors targeting trans, nonbinary, gender-expansive, and Two-Spirit brass musicians. Because I wasn’t familiar with IWBC’s specific policies on gender-marginalized people who aren’t cis women, and in part because I was largely still closeted at the time, I held off on being too loud in the aftermath of the 2019 conference. I knew I’d want to talk shortcomings eventually (and I did, a little), but at the time, I was clinging tightly to the sense of belonging I’d found in small pockets, even as I feared it was both conditional and temporary. Then we had the pandemic, and then ADHD fucked up most of my 2021, so I’m much later to writing more about IWBC than I wanted to be, but here I am.
For ease of reading, I’ve separated some of the events that highlight my biggest concerns regarding IWBC and gender into the sections listed below. Use the links in this paragraph to access specific topics at will, though I’d recommend a full read through to get a bird’s-eye view of what I’m seeing.
Full disclosure: my membership lapsed quite some time ago, but while I am not currently a dues-paying IWBC member, much of my current decision not to renew is based on one idea: I cannot in good conscience financially support an organization that claims to welcome (in some capacity) me and so many other gender-marginalized people yet does not have the expertise or the infrastructure to ensure they can deliver on that promise.
[A note from 2023 Eris: As my writing about the Institute for Composer Diversity (unfortunately) continues to expand, I’ve given up and created an entire blog category for these analyses. You can now find all my posts focusing on ICD by clicking here. Posts that mention them in passing but do not focus on their actions specifically will still be tagged, but you’ll need to search “ICD” in the bar at the bottom of the page—and likely scroll a little—to find those. Thanks!]
A year ago today, I published what I thought would be a relatively low-profile explanation to my readership about why I was removing myself from the Institute for Composer Diversity’s databases. I shared the email I’d sent to the Institute, along with some additional comments contextualizing my words and my decision. Something in there clicked with a lot of you, because . . . let’s just say my notifications were a mess for awhile afterward. My friends at Trade Winds Ensemble released their own incisive, blistering set of statements shortly thereafter, Rob (statistically speaking, it was Rob) misspelled my last name in a non-apology posted to ICD’s 7,000 followers without even asking if I was okay with being named, and thanks to a lot of public pressure and outcry from all y’all who read my post or Trade Winds’ or engaged with the ensuing conversation, ICD reviewed its own policy.
When that review went up at the end of January, I dug in, publishing somewhere in the neighborhood of 14,000 words (after edits—thank you, Nebal, for your patience) analyzing each and every finding and discovering that oh yeah, they plagiarized me and Trade Winds without even bothering to mention they were using our labor as their springboard. I sat on that anger for a month, wrote my analysis, published my analysis, and . . . waited. (Read it: Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3.) Twelve days later, I decided two and a half months was long enough, and I emailed ICD’s leadership. Here’s an excerpt:
You didn’t ask for our consent to use our words. You didn’t cite us. You weren’t making this choice to protect us, because none of you ever reached out to ask if we wanted to be protected in this way. ICD’s theft of this labor continues its longstanding tradition of erasing the work of marginalized composers in favor of performative activism. Not only that, it completely eschews academic best practices, opting instead to punch down at scholars doing the work we’ve begged you to do yourselves.
In the interest of transparency, I’d like to note that Ciyadh (who, of the folks I’ve interacted with at ICD, is by far my favorite) got back to me the same day to confirm I was okay with how ICD planned to cite my work and giving me a firm date by which the updates would be completed (which I’d requested in my message). They definitely messed one up (Point 22 should be attributed to Trade Winds, not me), but at this point, I’m just tired and that in particular isn’t worth yet another email. I’m grateful the plagiarism was corrected and credit was given, but the review originally went up at the end of January, and the corrections weren’t issued until May. (And I started talking about them publicly, on my blog, in mid-March!)
But at this point, it’s been several months since I’ve spoken to anyone at ICD. (I’ll probably send Ciyadh an email when I drop this post, because I’m genuinely not always convinced the leadership team sees my writing if I don’t.) They’ve had time away from the public eye (or as away as they ever get), and in their review, they left us a specific set of changes we could expect to see at various points this year. I made further demands when I analyzed their review. And on this, the anniversary of the day my poor phone blew up (the first time), I’d like to go over those key changes and remind folks what we’ve seen so far and what we haven’t.
[A note from 2023 Eris: As my writing about the Institute for Composer Diversity (unfortunately) continues to expand, I’ve given up and created an entire blog category for these analyses. You can now find all my posts focusing on ICD by clicking here. Posts that mention them in passing but do not focus on their actions specifically will still be tagged, but you’ll need to search “ICD” in the bar at the bottom of the page—and likely scroll a little—to find those. Thanks!]
Welcome back! Today we’re wrapping up our multi-day adventure through the ICD review. If you haven’t read the previous installments, I recommend checking out Part 1 and Part 2. After we conclude our point-by-point walkthrough, I’m going to mention some major concerns I didn’t get to talk about previously. As always, thanks for being here! I would’ve given up at Point 10 without y’all.
[A note from 2023 Eris: As my writing about the Institute for Composer Diversity (unfortunately) continues to expand, I’ve given up and created an entire blog category for these analyses. You can now find all my posts focusing on ICD by clicking here. Posts that mention them in passing but do not focus on their actions specifically will still be tagged, but you’ll need to search “ICD” in the bar at the bottom of the page—and likely scroll a little—to find those. Thanks!]
Greetings, one and all, and welcome back to our multi-day escapade through the ICD internal review. If you’re new here, fear not! You can go back and read Part 1 to catch up on what we’ve discussed previously. Today, we’re finishing our look at ICD’s communications breakdown; we’ll also discuss ICD’s impact on composers, touch briefly on tokenism, and begin the long slog through the leadership review. I can’t say any one part of the report is the review’s darkest hour, but today’s chunk is certainly a contender. Let’s dive in.
