NATHALIE JOACHIM: I would never try to tell a story from the perspective of a white man, for example, because I literally understand nothing about being a white man—at all. And so, it would never occur to me to try to tell a story from that perspective. I would never try to tell a story from a mother’s perspective, either, because it is very distinct from other female perspectives. A lot of people don’t feel the way that I feel, but I think the instinct to co-opt narratives that don’t belong to you is very strange. I think that action sometimes stems from a sense of eagerness, but mostly the naïveté of thinking that you understand what it’s like to be somebody else. You just don’t.

So much of my lifetime, on a daily basis, is spent justifying the reality of my lived experience, and that my history exists, and that what happens to me on a day-to-day basis is not a construct of my imagination but is in fact real. And I often spend a lot of time masking that because it makes other people feel uncomfortable, not because it’s not happening. I think a lot of people make assumptions about how we all walk through life, and to me that shows a really deep level of ignorance and not understanding that every single person walking through this world has stories that you just simply do not know, and that aren’t yours to tell. It isn’t your place to judge whether someone’s experience did or didn’t happen, or to decide the level of impact it had on them. That’s a big part of the problem that’s happening today—people just simply can’t imagine an existence that’s different than theirs.

I’m doing my best to see people for who they are. That’s my mantra in my life and work right now: to really look at people and see them for who they are, and to allow those narratives to lead the way.

Are there any examples or scenarios where an artist has honorably empowered an identity or cause that was not their own?

INTI FIGGIS-VIZUETA: To me, Berio’s O King is a celebration of Martin Luther King. It’s not bastardized jazz music or repurposed spirituals seen through a white lens. You can actualize people without fetishizing them. You can empathize—maybe not empathize… You can sympathize with the violence that people have experienced, without claiming that violence as something you understand.

If someone wishes to interact with elements outside their own identity and outside their own culture, the driving force has to be a strong intention to empower those voices. That feels right. It feels right for white men who are like, “Hey, the veil has been lifted from my eyes… I realize there’s a lot of super fucked up stuff that’s going on. I don’t wish to continue to create in my bubble. I wish to really bring my experience and my power, and all the things I have access to, and bring them into projects that otherwise wouldn’t have that access.” That, to me, makes sense. That, to me, is much more about the idea of facilitating and empowering voice, rather than appropriating voice.

Discourse asks us to be aware of our own privilege—to recognize how our own identities impact the way we view our own realities. How does perspective play a role in the creation of identity-based art?

OLIVIA J.P. HARRIS: One of the big questions I might ask of a white composer is, why not write a piece in which you are in some way confronting whiteness and owning the inherent racism of this construct of whiteness, challenging that in some way? And then you’re calling out the other people who are like you, and it’s in service to the broader anti-racism cause, but it’s also not, “Hey, look at me, I’m speaking for black people!”

JOACHIM: The way that [Flutronix has] been approaching it: connecting with communities who are already doing the good work, bolstering the work that they’re doing, and allowing their stories to guide what the end result really is going to be. Artistically, it’s been amazing. It’s very freeing in a way, because we are allowing the project to show us what it needs to be. Each interaction we have leads us in a different direction than either of us ever might have anticipated, so I think we’ve kind of let go of our preconceived notion of what the show is going to end up being. It has also inspired us to bring in co-commissioners for the project that allow us to replicate this community-based creative process in other cities. For me that feels amazing, because we’re getting to know so many communities that are new to us.

How does one go about facilitating and empowering other voices, rather than appropriating those voices? Where would one start?

SOLOMON: If you are a cis person and you want to make art about trans people, a necessary step in that process is engaging very deeply with trans people both on a collaborative level and, like… find a sensitivity reader and hire them and pay them money to read your stuff and tell you where you’re going wrong! Hire trans people to be in your cast, give them dramaturg credit, and empower them to be like, “Hey, you’ve written this thing – you’re asking me to do this thing – and actually I’m not OK with that.”

Are you involved in the community that you’re writing about in any way? Are you connected to members of that community? Are members of that community involved in the writing process? Are they benefiting concretely and materially from what you’re doing? What do you bring to this project that they don’t have?

FELICIA CHEN: When you’re trying to be someone who’s a proponent for diversity and inclusion in a creative discipline, you must think carefully about who is benefiting from this work. If you are a white composer and you’re interested in writing about a certain issue, ask yourself: Why? Who benefits from your involvement in this cause? If you care about Black Lives Matter, are your performers black? Is your soloist black? Is the librettist black? If you can’t back up your intentions with your actions, then is it really just self-congratulatory?

The idea of intention versus impact links beautifully back to this notion that there must be an acute awareness of the humanity behind the people and causes that you are engaging with. Thinking about intention means inherently looking inward towards your spark of inspiration. When I talk about impact, I’m asking: Who are your collaborators? How are they impacted by your work? How are your performers impacted? How are the people in the audience impacted? How are people who aren’t in the room – if they read or hear about your piece – how do they perceive it? I believe it is critical to be conscious of the human-to-human interaction that stems from the creative process, presentation, and finished work. Ultimately, I think many of us believe that music can be this universal language that brings people together, and so you can’t lose sight of the people who are affected by the creative work that you do.

Despite all of these questions, you also have to be comfortable with the fact that, yeah, maybe it’s not an appropriate creative outlet for you. It’s not your place or your story to tell, so don’t do it.