Choral Potpourri/Choral Ethics: Old Lady Musicians

“We don’t stop playing because we grow old; we grow old because we stop playing.” George Bernard Shaw

I’ve known Janice* for over twenty years. We met at a church music conference on the east coast and have been friends ever since. We are of a similar age; our children are of a similar age and our lives and ensembles are similar but not the same. She lives several states away, and we keep in touch via email, text, and the occasional phone call.

In addition to her church job, she directs a very large, highly auditioned (and respected) community chorus that has sung with a local symphony orchestra many times. She is somewhat of a piano geek, owning five different pianos herself, and has lectured on piano history and the differences, from brands to where—and when–a piano was made, around her state. She is often asked by piano stores and galleries to speak about their pianos. Janice is a fine pianist herself, though fully admits she is not as good as she would like. Recently, Janice and I had a long conversation I’d like to share.

Her spouse, like mine, is on the board of a local professional symphony orchestra. And, like me, she is considered only the “spouse of a board member” because she is “only” a choral conductor and not a “real” musician. It’s about this symphony orchestra’s conductor we spoke—at length—because she believes him to be sexist or perhaps ageist.

It was after the last concert of the season a few weeks ago, and the music director was holding court (her words) at a post-concert reception. Her spouse had just spoken to the music director, leaving Janice to chat for a bit while he got a drink. Janice asked about the piano used for the concerto, mentioning that it seemed “hard.” The music director misunderstood and thought she meant that the concerto was difficult. But she meant the action of the piano seemed stiff and hard to play—actually, physically hard to play—not the concerto. She tried to get that point across, she really did, but he was just not getting it.

He went on about the difficulty of the concerto, how they had rented the piano (she had known that but wondered WHO had chosen one with such stiff action, making the job of the pianist much more difficult) for this concert. He told her she shouldn’t worry, it was fine, and brushed her off. Janice was LIVID because he just assumed and treated her like she was the typical “old lady” spouse of a board member and not an actual musician. And a musician who certainly understands and is interested in pianos. She smiled and left to join some friends before her spouse returned because she didn’t trust herself to say something benign after that.

Janice wanted to know if I thought this young, male conductor could be considered sexist or ageist or perhaps both. I thought he sounded ageist, at least, and possibly sexist too. We went back and forth about how she handled it or what she could have done differently. I told her I thought she handled it well; leaving before she said something she might regret later always seems like a good plan. If she wanted to educate him about ageism or sexism, she would have to do something different. And most importantly, would it make a difference in his behavior? I’m not sure it would.

Women have made many strides in the classical music world but not as many as we would like to think. While older men musicians are generally respected and admired, older women musicians are dismissed or ignored. This is not just Janice’s situation but for many of us, our years of experience, talent and knowledge are dismissed because we are “women of a certain age.” And I speak from experience.

What would you have said or done differently in Janice’s situation? Since this is a young, male conductor, should she have to educate him when it comes to ageism and sexism? Must we take it upon ourselves to educate others about these and other-isms if we want to end the cycle?

*Name Withheld