Whitewashed
October 1, 2020
BY: ANDRÉ SOLOMON | CREATIVE GENERATION
From 1999 to 2018, half of my culture was withheld.
Picture it: June 29th, 1999 a biracial family at a rest stop in Montana, which included little André at four. That was the day I saw my Black father shot before my eyes by a White man. Race is challenging for me because before that tragic event I never thought about it and after my White family never acknowledged my Blackness. After moving to Massachusetts with my mother, that began a period of being an outlier.
So, why mention this moment? Because once my dad was murdered, I had a geographical separation from my brother and a mother who self-isolated due to her trauma, I had no Black mentors or allies to teach me about my culture with minimal efforts from my White family to learn mine. This is why representation is crucial to youth development. Without diverse resources to connect to, the mind is easily moldable to believe whatever it experiences.
As such, I can see why my associations were extremely loyal to White ideals. For example, my family obsession with White Classic Rock men, school bands only performing works by White men, or even the lack of Black presence in the media we consumed.
I started to hate being Black. The sad truth was unless people knew me personally, individuals only saw me as such, never White. I started to see Whiteness as the ideal because it brought happiness, while being Black brought disdain. I also knew it is bad because I have Japanese relatives whom we would celebrate their culture by learning Japanese or eating gyoza. Many individuals were easily willing to influence me with White culture and demonized others, openly telling me my father was problematic.
One of the problems I have seen with White individuals is the consumption of Black products and the ability to dissociate once consumption is over. The rare occasions I heard Black music from my elders was when it happened to pop up on the radio or my mother’s earphones. They might enjoy it at the moment, but later overhearing comments critiquing the art form. My cousins, who are basically my sisters, were more culturally aware but raised in White households where talking about Black issues were not normalized. (However, they are now badass women aiding the fight for equality in all forms.)
Continuing with the theme of music, I started my musical journey in 4th grade when I picked up the flute. Throughout my nine years of K-12 band instruction, I was the only Black male flutist. Every piece I was handed was another composition lacking diversity. Every teacher I had was also White. Even in general music, the level of varying musicians was below average. During my undergrad, at Setnor School of Music, the same scenario repeated when receiving my degree in Flute.
I would like to say that the decision to pursue a Masters in Arts Management at Carnegie Mellon, as Madison Jones describes it, started the emancipation of my mental slavery.
I felt that I was honoring my Whiteness but demonstrating justice for my Blackness because so many failed to do so throughout my experience in the arts. I started making more Black friends, leading a racial arts justice Facebook group, investigating in Black arts organizations. The year 2018 was a game-changer: I witnessed, for the first time, a Black male flutist performing at The Colour of Music Festival in Pittsburgh, PA, and even provided the space to vocalize the inequalities the arts imposed onto minorities. For the first time in 23 years, I felt that all of me was accepted.
I was committed - committed fighting for causes I was passionate about with the intention of protecting anyone from experiencing my confusing timeline, where being Black was not supported.
Another stop on my journey to freedom was in 2020 with the murders of Breonna Taylor, George Floyd, Ahmaud Arbery and the other countless deaths at the hands of police. When this happened, I thought my family and friends would reach out to check my mental health but not one line of communication. Unfortunately, it led me to a severe breakdown combined with the state of the world in COVID, but a breakdown I am glad happened. Once I regained stability, I pledged to myself that I would fight harder for the BIPOC voice in and outside the arts. I became more direct even with my family; this was a win for me.
Continuing my discovery, I am excited to uncover all the parts of me. The beauty of being human is that we are always changing with the capacity to rewire our behavior. Rewiring that I hope to apply to myself and the arts world because we both have work to do. As I have learned working with Courtney J. Boddie from the Teaching Artistry with Courtney J. Boddie Podcast with “We Can’t Go Back,” we must work together to distribute power among races and hold accountability because whether it is an orchestra unwilling to hire BIPOC staff or a man receiving a reduced charge for murder, we cannot live in a world that tolerates injustice.
I would like to end here with a quote from Jones:
People will try to strip you off and mask your blackness and at times you might wish to have whiteness working for you, but always remember who you are. Remember your individuality. Remember your unconventional beauty is the most amazing thing about you. Diversity prospers and so will you.
2018 - Present, shaping my own identity.
