Opinion

Several months ago, a student in our community (who will remain anonymous) posted a video of himself to his private Snapchat story. The content of the video was a misogynistic rant in which he called women “hypocrites” and expressed his belief that women lead easier lives than men. The video was not only offensive and demeaning but demonstrated a lack of awareness of gender discrimination and the reality of women’s experiences. The student displayed an ignorance of the history of sexist and oppressive gender roles that had led to the very stereotypes he was using to support his claims. 

Understandably outraged, one recipient of the student’s private story sent the video to a friend; that friend then sent it to a group chat with approximately 70 people, and within an hour the video was shared on Instagram by several people. The responses in the group chat and on social media were naturally expressions of anger and disgust. Many people who formerly saw the student as a friend or amicable colleague joined their peers in the din of condemnation. While the long-term consequences remain unclear, the potential damage is severe considering that relationships in the music world can be critical to one’s professional career.

When reflecting on an incident of this nature, we have to ask ourselves what the end goal is. Thankfully, the majority of our community seems to share similar views regarding this goal. At the end of the day, we all want a community of tolerance and acceptance, a place where everyone can feel safe and welcome regardless of their race, gender identity, sexual orientation, religion, or any other characteristic. We all want a community free of any and all forms of hatred whether it manifests as racism, sexism, homophobia, or bigotry. Unfortunately, this incident and many others shine light on the fact that our community is not yet at this point and that hateful rhetoric is alive and well.

What is to be done about this? When addressing this scenario or others like it, we inevitably arrive at the word accountability. The idea is simple enough – as a community, we need to hold people responsible for their actions. But this is vague, as the term accountability is used in many ways and contexts. In order to determine an effective response to this specific case, we need to envision the ideal outcome. In an ideal world, the student would never have had or expressed these sentiments in the first place. To that end, working to educate ourselves and our community is one of the most powerful tools we have against hate. But since the action can’t be undone, the ideal outcome would be for the student to reform, educating himself and becoming an advocate for women in the future. Ideas rarely exist in a vacuum, and it would also be ideal if the student worked towards informing others who support and enable this kind of rhetoric. It is clear that if we want to hold this student accountable for his actions in a way that leads to progress as a community, then accountability has to leave room for growth. 

Social media has become a very complicated platform for accountability. It is an unquestionably powerful tool, one that can cause widespread positive change but can also lead to considerable damage. One factor that contributes to this negative potential is the permanency and the breadth of the exposure. With a couple of taps on a screen, any post can be shared with thousands of followers within a matter of seconds. The immediacy of social media often fails to leave time and space for nuanced discussion, and the level of exposure can lead to very extreme real-life consequences. In many cases, widespread ostracism ensues, where those personally or professionally associated with the person condemn them publicly. If institutions punish someone because of a social media post without due process, that is another issue in itself. Regardless, we should be sensitive to the power social media holds in our current culture and recognize the potential consequences of any post as a reality. 

This kind of social media exposure can set an example that discourages people from voicing those opinions publicly. However, it fails to adequately address the root of the problem, often causing harmful rhetoric to continue more quietly behind closed doors. At worst, the negative attention is empowering, fueling even more hate-filled speech and in severe cases, destructive action. Ironically, in this case it also validates some of the student’s remarks. He admitted that people would probably attack him for his remarks, and the response likely affirmed his self-perceived victimhood.

The implication of many social media call-outs is a statement about someone’s inability to change. At moments like these, people often define the person in question by a single comment or action, reducing them to a symbol of misogyny or racism. The impersonal aspect of social media contributes to this tendency and makes it easy to condemn. Equating a comment or action with the totality of any person is neither useful nor accurate. And the truth is that anyone is capable of radical change, even as it pertains to the most extremist views. The idea that someone’s views are intrinsic to who they are is both unfounded and dangerous. It stifles potential progress, eliminating the possibility for growth as a society at large. To believe in societal change, we have to understand that people can change their views.

Take the example of Megan Phelps-Roper, a writer and activist who was born into the Westboro Baptist Church. Many will be familiar with the Church since members of the hate group paid a visit to Juilliard in 2016, an institution that they claim is destructive and sinful. Phelps-Roper was indoctrinated with deeply homophobic and anti-Semitic beliefs, picketing funerals of U.S. soldiers with her family from a young age. But in her memoir Unfollow, she explains how strangers on Twitter who were willing to discuss and even empathize planted seeds of doubt that ultimately led her to leave the Church in 2012. Her story is one of extreme transformation, but it is one of countless stories of people who reformed their views and became advocates for the people they had previously attacked. Clearly, the question is not whether people can change their views but how.

Often, the most powerful change starts on a personal level. In a scenario like this, a logical first step would be for those closest to the student to have a conversation with him, using their personal connection to explain the hurtful fallacies in his rhetoric. Discussions of this nature are most often taxing. It is easy to feel unequipped for a debate, or feel emotional strain from trying to refute viewpoints that are hurtful on a personal level. Confronting a friend in this way can be uncomfortable and often takes courage, but these conversations become easier and more productive the more we have them. They require a willingness to continually educate ourselves on the needs of our community and society at large. There are several online resources that can be valuable tools when navigating these waters, including the “Hollaback” bystander intervention technique (a resource that also offers free, online bystander intervention training), which is listed below. While all of these strategies require personal initiative, they are important tools for growing empathy, building a more accepting community, and becoming better equipped to handle conflict. This is an initiative worth taking as we are all likely to encounter difficult and offensive confrontations moving forward in life.

Self-care and protection should always be a first priority. If one person feels they aren’t emotionally capable of handling a conversation that could be hostile, it can be beneficial to enlist the help of a friend or acquaintance. When hurtful messages are directed at specific groups, those who are not part of that targeted group have as much of if not more of a responsibility to intervene or address the person directly. Sometimes, it is too difficult for students to have personal discussions, particularly when they feel unsafe or personally hurt, and this kind of delegation can be necessary for self-protection. 

While the administrative system may have its flaws, there are a variety of valuable resources at our disposal. People can also always reach out to Camille Pajor, the Title IX director and bias response officer, even when the grievance is not a policy violation. Title IX and Bias Response welcome any conversation with community members, including discussing hypothetical situations, rights, resources, response options, and preferences. It is also worth noting that individuals and groups can request customized training from Title IX and Bias Response, as well as other offices like EDIB, on topics such as equity and conflict management. The faculty and administration are certainly not exempt from accountability and have mishandled situations in the past. Normalizing conversations about accountability and including faculty and administrations in these discussions could be key in ensuring lasting improvement as a community.

It cannot be overstated that personal discussion is not a replacement for consequences, particularly when there are policy violations involved. When there is harassment, violence, or a violation of school policy or the law, it is not up to students to deal with the matter on a personal level. In these situations, students should consider reporting the issue by whatever means they feel comfortable. Juilliard has an array of report forms that can be submitted anonymously (see link in resources). The administration has a responsibility to take all grievances seriously and investigate and follow through with all parties involved. Its main goals are to stop, prevent, and remedy misconduct, and to do so, they aim to apply policies fairly and in a trauma-informed way. If they don’t achieve these goals, students should continue to keep the administration accountable; these instances are complex and the process of holding administration accountable should be a topic of further discussion.

Social media, like any other tool, can be used effectively or ineffectively, and the difference can be difficult to determine. Social media call-outs are part of a precarious gray area where one word or share could be life altering. This is not to say that social media call-outs have no purpose or value. In more extreme situations, often involving discrimination, harassment, or assault, social media can be a tool for garnering support when the existing infrastructure for justice has failed to address the issue. It can be a way of letting victims know that they are not alone. Beyond that, it has potential to bring down dangerous people in positions of power that are otherwise untouchable and who have not been held accountable for their crimes. The #metoo movement, for example, not only brought down powerful sex offenders, but contributed to a global movement against sexual harassment and rape. In cases like that of Harvey Weinstein, the framework for accountability failed on every account, or never truly existed. However imperfect it may be, we do have structures of accountability in place at Juilliard, and as a student body, we have the power to build on this existing framework.

If we’re reflecting critically on our community, it seems that we lack a strong, productive culture of accountability. People tend to turn a blind eye to offensive comments made by friends or laugh off jokes that are offensive to the point of being damaging. Often, people don’t want to alienate themselves from colleagues they may be working with for the rest of their lives. Sometimes people just don’t know how to respond or how to call someone out for a hurtful statement. There are exceptions, but on the whole, accountability in in-person interactions is a rare thing to see.

Changing this culture could be a powerful tool in ensuring meaningful progress as a community. Each time someone ignores or laughs off a misogynistic comment, they enable and validate that rhetoric, adding fuel to a fire that could really hurt certain members of our community. In this sense, we need to hold ourselves and each other accountable for the way we approach accountability. This web of accountability could create a framework that protects those who are most vulnerable in our community and ensure that everyone feels more safe and welcome. 

Nothing in this article is said to discount the harm caused by this particular incident to members of our community. Working to repair that harm is just as essential as properly addressing the issue of the student. The question is how to repair that harm. One idea that is common in the rhetoric in favor of social media call-outs is that it does justice to the victims by exposing wrongdoing. This is a purely retaliatory idea of justice and one that has no real foundation. The true way of honoring those hurt most is to ensure that real progress is made and work towards this rhetoric not happening in the future. Another idea is that call-outs of this nature are important since they show people that something is wrong; in this case, posting the video could be seen as a way of demonstrating that these ideas are misogynistic and hurtful, thus empowering victims. But we have to recognize that there are many other ways to make this statement that don’t involve potentially destructive consequences.

This recent incident is neither the first nor the last of its kind. Our discussion of it is not meant to harp on the past or personally attack those who shared on social media. We are using this incident to comment on a larger cultural trend and highlight the complexity of the issue. In this instance, it can easily be argued that the social media response was justified since the video was posted to social media in the first place. But what is “deserved” is beside the point, and the important question is what response is most productive and beneficial for the community as a whole. While incidents like these are disheartening in the sense that they bring to light sentiments that shouldn’t exist in our community, they also provide us with opportunities to make real, positive change and progress. In the midst of a pandemic, it is understandable that people tend to turn to social media as a tool for accountability. But as we gradually venture towards a post-Covid world, we can use this as an opportunity to reflect and define ourselves as a community. Together, we can create a stronger, more empathetic, and more robust culture of accountability moving forward.

Resources

• Bystander Intervention Techniques:

Hollaback! Bystander Resources

Hollaback! Free Training

• Megan Phelps-Roper TED Talk:

I grew up in the Westboro Baptist Church. Here’s why I left

• Juilliard Resources:

Report Forms

Policies

Health and Counseling

Title IX webpage

EDIB webpage 

• NYC Well: 

24/7 mental health support/referrals via talk/text/chat

Photo by Fiona Robberson.

CONTENT WARNING: The following student-submitted editorial contains serious subject matter regarding mental health, as well as profanity. We at The Citizen-Penguin are not mental health professionals, and the advice herein is that of the author, not of The Citizen-Penguin or The Juilliard School. If you’re in need of help, please contact the Student Health Center, text “home” to the Crisis Text Line at 741741, or if in immediate danger, call 911.

____________________

An open letter to those who have been labeled weak and lazy:

It’s easy to pretend that you are ok.

That you don’t hurt. That you aren’t overwhelmed. That you don’t ache in all of the places that you imagine it’s possible to ache.

That you don’t sign out a practice room just to be alone and cry. That you don’t put in 16 hour days just so that you don’t have to be alone with your thoughts your thoughts your thoughts. That you don’t self-medicate, because going to a doctor only makes it real.

Because your problems are safe in your head. Because dreams are scary when they come true, so you keep them inside.

…

It’s easy to pretend that you’re ok because that’s what is expected of you.  

We learn early on that we’re worthless without the right kind of work. Well, worse than worthless: We’re actively harmful. The lazy are destructive, abolishing meaning for the productive. The lazy are an STD, a virus, a plague…

Something doesn’t feel right? Just work it off, it’ll go away.

We’re a burden on society when we don’t work, whether this is due to the limitations of our bodies or because of a conscious refusal of undoubtable self-harm. It doesn’t matter the work, and it doesn’t matter whether we like it or not. Work exists to keep us busy and give us value, rather than for our own personal betterment.

It’s all just in your head anyway. A complicit frame of mind. A choice. You are choosing to feel bad. You have no reason to feel bad.

We work to exist. To earn our air, not just our bread.

Stop feeling bad. You’re fine. Everything is fine.

And so, since our humanity being tied with our productivity gives us existential dread, or at very least mild nausea, we convince ourselves that we work better under pressure. You see, diamonds are made under pressure, and diamonds have value. Pressure gives us value. Illness is a fantastic form of pressure, it turns us into diamonds…

Or something.

We value mental illness as a sign of artistic truth, fetishizing the struggle instead of fighting it. Comfort is an artistic inconvenience and the gravedigger of truth. This is a thought we internalize. The struggle itself is the value, so the more we struggle, the more we succeed.

Alone.

We are alone because our success only exists at the expense of our peers. Our work is in a constant state of comparison. So-and-so just got this job, they’re sooo good. They’re doing better than you…

They are better than you.

It’s a moral thing. If someone does better than us, no matter how close we are with them, then we’re less good. If we win, then we are the good-est. If we don’t do anything at all, then we are the worst. We’re in last place, then.  

Labor is a competition. It is undoubtedly.

Maybe my resume wasn’t laid out quite right, or maybe they just didn’t like the sound of my instrument, or maybe they didn’t like my body, how I look, who I am.

Darwin wrote that, naturally, the weak have extinction coming to them. Natural selection, or something. Only the strong are useful. The weak just take up space. Useful space occupied by useless bodies. Maybe we are just a burden, we who refuse to be weighed down by labor.

Famous last words: More weight.

We struggle alone. Against each other. The best work always comes after one loses their mind, never before. Struggle gives us value. Our empathy is commodified. Even death gives us value. The greats die young and alone.

Always Alone.

Nobody but you knows what goes on between your ears, so it’s convenient to lie and say you’re fine.

My weekend was fine. Home was fine. I’m fine. I promise I’m fine. I don’t need your goddamn concern, ok?

I’m fucking fine.

…

Though, you know that this isn’t true. Only you know that your thoughts feel like death. That you feel like shit and you don’t know why. That you feel hopelessly numb, tired, and, worst of all, lazy.

You’re not fine.

You do hurt. Your body does ache. You are overwhelmed. That’s the true true.

We feel isolated and alienated. Ironically, these are the most universal feelings we have. We are alone, this isolation is truth. Everyone feels this way.

But that doesn’t affect our real value. We are not our labor alone. We are not productive machines. We are human beings. We bruise and we get sick. We have ups and downs. We are our surroundings personified.

We are more than our labor. We are, We are, We are!

We are not heroes for pretending we are ok. Lying only kills us faster. It is an act of violence to value our labor above us, so those who do are not our friends, in fact they are our mortal enemies.

It is a radical act to own our unwellness.

Sometimes we need help.

Sometimes just talking to a friend will do, but other times it’s more serious. A lot of us need medication and most of us need therapy. This is our humanity.

We are not machines.

Sometimes we just need to vent. Other times we need to go to the hospital so that we don’t become another isolated, tragic casualty.

We are human beings. And, just so you know…

We need You.

We need you for your humor and your empathy. We need you for your bad jokes and your awkward laughs, your uncomfortable silences and the mistakes that keep you up at night. We need your weaknesses more than your strengths.

And we really need your anger. It is real, earned, and there’s a lot that can be done collectively about it.

We need you because you are an essential part of our world, no matter what personal lows and social values tell you.

And most importantly, we need you so that we can make this world, not the bullshit idealizations we manufacture in our minds, a better place.

You are still you when you don’t do anything. So too when you actively do nothing.

Fuck value and the isolating violence it impresses on us.

Breathe. Just breathe.

Only then can we begin to loosen our chains.

Truly yours,

Joe

At this year’s Convocation, new Juilliard President Damian Woetzel spoke a lot about making the school more collaborative and inclusive. “We must be intentional and proactive in fostering a robust representation of experiences and perspectives within our community,” Woetzel said. “I believe deeply in Juilliard as a community where each of us ‘belongs,’ and that education cannot be its best without being fully inclusive.”

Well said, Mr. President.

Now let’s talk about toilets.

Everybody needs one, and it’s impossible to make it through the day without using one. At Juilliard, that usually means entering either a “male-only”or “female-only” space. While many people may not even think twice about where to go, choosing between and physically being in these spaces produces unnecessary anxiety and fear for some trans, non-binary, and/or gender nonconforming people.

There is another option: they can go to a secluded corner near the Kaufman Dance Studio on the second floor, behind double doors and far from where most classes and rehearsals take place, and use one of the two single stall restrooms available there. While these are technically inclusive restrooms, in practice they only serve to further alienate those who may already feel alone.

Bathrooms have often been a battleground for larger social struggles. For example, in the classical music world, a space traditionally dominated by men, it wasn’t too long ago when women either weren’t allowed or were just not hired to play in orchestras. Even after those first trailblazing women started winning orchestral jobs, many concert halls didn’t have adequate space for women’s restrooms and changing rooms. Inequality was literally built in to the workplace.

Trans (especially non-passing) and/or non-binary people today find themselves in a similar position – part of a marginalized group whose needs are only recently being considered in these spaces. The fact that Juilliard does not yet have gender-inclusive bathrooms sends a few implicit messages to any individual in the building whose gender identity or expression adds diversity to our community: “Your needs are not important,” “You are not welcome,” and, possibly worst of all, “There is not space for you to exist here.” Experiencing this type of indifferent denial of identity day in and day out is arguably a form of violence, and at the very least, is not conducive to a healthy learning environment.

As artists, we need to be able to take up space, grow, and explore different ways of being in the world. We need to feel safe enough to try new things, to be vulnerable. We need the freedom to be ourselves unapologetically in order to find our voice. We also need to listen to all sorts of people who are different from us. We need to soak up as much of humanity as we can in order to broaden our reach and relevance, and our understanding of the world. Our arts need diversity, and this includes trans voices.

To this effect, President Woetzel’s Convocation address rings true. We, as students, just need to hold him to it.

How do we do this?

We the Student Body must actively fight for better inclusivity at Juilliard, beginning with bathrooms. Two hidden single-stalls in the entire building is not enough. We need at least one gender-neutral option on every floor. Until then, we will be labeling every restroom in the school as all-inclusive, so all students can feel safe. If you want to help us on this mission, we will be holding a meeting to finalize the designs for the bathroom signs. We’ll meet on Wednesday, October 10 at 1pm, location TBD (stay tuned!) If you’d like to be involved but cannot make the meeting, send your sign ideas or write to lc4@juilliard.edu.

We all have a voice and we cannot be silenced.

Photo by The Citizen-Penguin

Last week, a member of the Juilliard administration caught my attention in the hall and asked if I would be willing to speak with them about the practice room op-ed I wrote a month or so ago. Innocent enough, I thought; at least this was a sure sign that they read it.

What proceeded a conversation that gave the illusion of student support – “I’m on your side” – was a grilling on “proper” journalism. According to this administration member, I would have been more credible had I gone to them first with my concerns because only then would I have been enlightened with “all the facts.” I was told that some of what I said just wasn’t true, and they went as far as calling the work I produced “fake news.”

These are the absent facts that made the original piece “fake news:”

1. The practice room situation used to be a lot(!) worse back in the day.

2. Juilliard spent hundred(s!) of thousands of dollars on the new system.

and the most glaring omission in their eyes:

3. Juilliard really does care about their students.

Let me first say, excuse me for not prioritizing the feelings of a billion dollar organization over the legitimate concerns of a population of students, especially when students are paying upwards of $60,000 a year in tuition for their education. Student issues have a history of being suppressed and brushed under the rug by college administrations (this is made easier by the collective memory limitations of a four year institution), so I personally feel justified in having not gone through the administration first, especially when including “all the facts” would have changed the focus of the editorial. In the practice room op-ed, I wrote about the practice rooms as they are experienced today, and while I sympathise with what alumni had to put up with in the past, those were a different set of circumstances.

And the fact of “care” is an interesting one. I never declared outright that Juilliard didn’t care about their students – this was only suggested by the fact of the material conditions that I presented, which aren’t wrong. I really appreciate being told by a member of the administration that Juilliard cares about their students because this shows a willingness to move forward. When this care is realised through the best possible working conditions for one of the best conservatories in the world, I will even believe it.

Including information that tells readers how much better things are today, about how much money was (and is) spent on the current system, and about how much Juilliard cares about their students only serves to motivate passivity, which, frankly, seems to me to produce the aura of fake news as well. That’s not my business, though. In making these suggestions, the administration is effectively silencing what is potential for students to recognize and actualize their interests, which is not what I am about.

That these “facts” were said to have given more credibility to what was clearly an op-ed piece from a justifiably frustrated student perspective shows just how out of touch people in power can be. The point was not to try and convince anyone in the administration that the practice room issue was credible enough to be taken seriously, and the point was definitely not to lull students into complacency by telling stories of how much better things are now than they once were. The point was to open up a dialogue within the student body about how We can most effectively secure the conditions that allow Us to benefit the most from our education. I hope this is transparent.

Student action itself is much more valuable than administrative “facts” and “care” because students are why Juilliard exists. What needs to be recognized is the fact that the institution of Juilliard exists for their students, for our education and for our betterment, and the student body needs to hold the institution accountable when this doesn’t show. Students don’t serve the administration and shouldn’t be intimidated by it; the administration serves the students. The administration needs to hear the collective roar of outrage when things are bad, whether it’s to do with practice rooms or anything else. They need to know that if student issues are swept under the rug, we are the cereal that will crunch so that they know that we are still here.

In essence, sure, things used to be worse, but that is not a good enough excuse to refuse to improve. That the administration approached me with such concern shows that students do in fact have power. We just need to recognize it collectively.