18 March 2013

A Woman or a Two-Toed Sloth, It Matters Not

     About ten years ago, a young female pianist/coach, who was at that time in the Houston Grand Opera Studio, asked me if my being a woman was in any way a hindrance to me in the opera business. I remember being a bit surprised at the question, as it had never been asked me before. However, I didn't have to ponder over my answer: I told her frankly that my being a woman was never an issue, at least, not to my knowledge.
     Several years before this event, an internationally known woman conductor came to Houston to conduct one of our main-stage productionsI was Assistant Chorus Master, and had charge of the chorus for most of the rehearsal period while our Chorus Master was out of town on another job. The working relationship between the conductor (who insisted on being called "Maestro" rather than "Maestra") and me was quite amicable. She respected my abilities, and I respected hers. However, her relationship with the orchestra was not a happy one. I wasn't privy to the details, but apparently her behavior towards them and towards one player in particular prompted a letter of complaint to the HGO administration from the orchestra as a body. They felt she treated them as second-rate (this was the Houston Symphony, mind you, one of the finest orchestras in the country). My respect for her lessened considerably, though she and I continued our outward professional relationship. After the closing performance, I went backstage to say goodbye to her. Her very last words to me (and I paraphrase, due to the intervening years and my fuzzy memory) were, "Power to women!" and she made a fist and raised it in the air. I confess, it left an unpleasant taste in my mouth. The very first thought that came to my mind was, "That's not why I do this."
     When HGO asked me to conduct a mainstage production, I knew it was because they felt I was able to do so. I accepted because I knew they had faith in me, and because I felt I should meet the challenge. I also knew that they would have asked me if I had been a man, if I were from Zimbabwe, if I had seaweed instead of hair, or if I were a two-toed sloth. All they cared about was whether or not I could wield a decent baton and do a good job. (Well, actually, I would have my doubts about the two-toed sloth.)
     My being a woman was never an issue. The issue was my ability. Also my professionalism and my respectful treatment of others. My gender was never used by anyone as an excuse or a platform, nor did I myself use it as such. And I did what I did because I loved it and knew, with hard work and perseverance, I could do it and do it well.
     And I should say that, had that woman conductor I spoke of earlier been a man, I still would have respected him less for his treatment of the orchestra.

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