shit-deflection and the erotic as power

last week, i had a gig with a professor of mine. i was on bass, my friend and fellow student on drums, and the teacher on piano. we played his music, some improvisations, and the standard "autumn leaves" at a cafe. i was honored to be playing with him, even though the gig was weird-- we played following a rather horrible, pretentious poet, and then a belly dancer (the audience members with their mouths hanging out like they were in a strip club.) but the show went well. i think. i'm trying lately not to judge my own playing but just keep on.

but here's the point... afterwards i was throwing away my paper tea cup. there was a middle-aged white man, sitting on a couch in a black hat. he was beckoning towards me. so i went up to him and he said "you sounded great." "thanks," i said "i wasn't sure if you were motioning for me to come or not." "i wasn't," he said. "but not only did you sound great, you looked great with that instrument." i was shocked. i walked away mumbling to myself. then i was shocked for being shocked, pissed for being pissed.

this is not the first time i've gotten comments like this. it's part of the bag of people's reactions to female bassists, i suppose. a similar story: after a gig a few weeks ago, i struck up a conversation with some guy. he was singing along in russian with the recorded music between bands. i asked him about it. then he said "it's great to watch women playing music." (i was playing in a band with 3 women, one man. an unusual situation for me.) "to watch them, or to listen to them?" i asked. he didn't pick up on my offer for him to save his ass. he reiterated that the watching part came first. and i walked away again.

and yet i still don't know what to say back to these men. this guy at the cafe (who was old enough to be my father) and his insignificant comment struck a nerve. i felt helpless. retort-less. i glared at him as i carried music stands to the car. i wanted to expose him to the people that he sat with (his family, i assumed). expose him as what? i wanted to teach him a lesson, to let him know that women don't need approval for their physical appearance. i play for people to enjoy my music not my body. that i hope (perhaps naively?) that when i stepped onto the stage people will respond to me differently than when i walk down the street.

as we were packing up the car, i told my drummer-friend about what had happened. and that i was now in a bad mood. he was sympathetic, he's a good listener. but he told me that i need a better shit-deflector. later, talking to my mother on the phone, she agreed. "you're a performer," she said, "you're going to get this stuff all the time. people carry their shit everywhere and they are going to offer it to you. you can't take it from them."

and the fact is, there's bigger shit, right? there are more offensive things that have been said to me. there are more difficult decades i could have been born a female jazz musician. (what about Billy Tipton, born Dorothy Tipton-- a pianist who began presenting as male in the 1930s to avoid discrimination.... read more here)

and i'm just saying, i'm not easy target. i'm argumentative. i carry a big instrument, my head is shaved! i have been the only woman musician in the jazz department at my college. (aside from a fabulous teacher, thank the lord! more on her later.) and generally, no one messes with me. in fact, i feel very much a part of the jazz community here at school. after 4 years, we have a little sweet dysfunctional family.

but this is what it's like having a body. no one needs to say things really, just being in an all-male space makes my breasts feel bigger, makes skirts feel girlier. my thighs, my butt take on new meaning in these spaces. sometimes, bending over to unzip my bass case, i wonder if there's something provocative about this motion. i am even a bit embarrassed writing this here. because i'm not a self-conscious person and also, i love my curves! but this is having a body. men get to be neutral. sometimes i want that luxury.

and just a few days ago i had a fascinating and honest conversation with another male musician-friend of mine. he mentioned that when he first met me, he thought i was gay. this does not surprise me or bother me, but i was curious about where this idea came from. with further probing he explained that i had seemed non-sexual at the time (there was an implication that he feels differently now, and i've wondered at times if there is in fact sexual tension between us.) 0ver the course of the conversation about my place in the school jazz department, he also referred to me as "a big sister" and "one of the guys." are these my options? are these the limited ways i may be viewed as a woman?

what do i do with this knowledge? i am uncomfortable with being non-sexual (as may be implied by being a mother, sister, or "one of the guys") and i am also uncomfortable being sexualized (ie. having strangers comment on my appearance on stage.) do i see myself or others as fluctuating between similar extremes? am i too concerned with dichotomies? how can we be comfortable with the fact that our mothers and our sisters have sex? that our colleagues and creative collaborators may also be attractive?

improving my shit-deflector is the easier part. (though still difficult for a righteously indignant person like myself!) the harder part is allowing myself to be at once intellectual/ rational and creative/ emotional; honor both my body and my mind when there are so many forces that tell me they are mutually exclusive. i turn to Audre Lorde's essay "Uses of the Erotic as Power": (here are a few excerpts, but the whole essay gives me chills and you can find it here)

"There are many kinds of power, used and unused, acknowledged or otherwise. The erotic is a resource within each of us that lies in a deeply female and spiritual plane, firmly rooted in the power of our unexpressed or unrecognized feeling. In order to perpetuate itself, every oppression must corrupt or distort those various sources of power within the culture of the oppressed that can provide energy for change. For women, this has meant a suppression of the erotic as a considered source of power and information within our lives.

We have been taught to suspect this resource, vilified, abused, and devalued within western society. On the one hand, the superficially erotic has been encouraged as a sign of female inferiority; on the other hand, women have been made to suffer and to feel both contemptible and suspect by virtue of its existence.

It is a short step from there to the false belief that only by the suppression of the erotic within our lives and consciousness can women be truly strong. But that strength is illusory, for it is fashioned within the context of male models of power..."

"The erotic is a measure between our sense of self and the chaos of our strongest feelings. It is an internal sense of satisfaction to which, once we have experienced it, we know we can aspire. For having experienced the fullness of this depth of feeling and recognizing its power, in honor and self-respect we can require no less of ourselves..."

"Of course, women so empowered are dangerous. So we are taught to separate the erotic from most vital areas of our lives other than sex. And the lack of concern for the erotic root and satisfactions of our work is felt in our disaffection from so much of what we do. For instance, how often do we truly love our work even at its most difficult?..."

"The erotic functions for me in several ways, and the first is in providing the power which comes from sharing deeply any pursuit with another person. The sharing of joy, whether physical, emotional, psychic, or intellectual, forms a bridge between the sharers which can be the basis for understanding much of what is not shared between them, and lessens the threat of their difference.

Another important way in which the erotic connection functions is the open and fearless underlining of my capacity for joy, in the way my body stretches to music and opens into response, harkening to its deepest rhythms so every level upon which I sense also opens to the erotically satisfying experience whether it is dancing, building a bookcase, writing a poem, or examining an idea..."

i regularly play music with the same guy who told me about his impressions of me in the department. and in the same conversation, we spoke of the band we play in and the openness of all the musicians in it. we spoke of the musical intimacy of this group, something you hope to reach when improvising with others. i want to honor this-- the love, emotion, and desire i put into the music i truly care about, into practicing, composing, and performing it; and that i hopefully share with the musicians i play with, and the audience i play for. and i want to possess the power of sensation on my own terms; more deeply and personally than anyone else's first impression of me.