Category: Music

Impolite Birth: Explorations into the Benefits of Theatre Voice Training for Childbirth

Tara CaimiLeave a comment

By Kris Danford
Associate Professor of Voice and Speech

Headshot of Kris Danford, gray background

You’re walking along and suddenly you stub your toe. Without thinking, a howl of pain comes out of your mouth. You say “Ow!” or “Arrgh!” Or something more colorful I probably shouldn’t repeat in this blog post.

As humans, we make noise when we encounter discomfort. Why? Well, recent research conducted by Genevieve Swee and Annett Schirmer published in The Journal of Pain suggests that vocalizing may improve pain tolerance. It’s worth observing that vocalizing also seems to be a ubiquitous reaction to discomfort that is not strictly physical; emotional discomfort can also provoke the production of sound. Think of how a startled person might yelp or a person stricken with grief may cry, keen or wail. It’s a deeply ingrained impulse, but whether a person acts on that impulse to make sound is another matter.

In actor training, significant time is spent connecting the body to sound. Voice and speech classes focus on techniques to minimize physical effort, to breathe freely and respond vocally without bracing or inhibition. Voice teachers use phrases like “the release of sound” or “the purging of sound.” Students are sometimes encouraged to “sigh with relief,” to notice the vibration of their own voice and, even more, to notice that that vibration could be a pleasant sensation in their body. Simply put, noise is encouraged. Given that most people try to be unobtrusive and polite in society, that kind of unapologetic self-expression can initially feel vulnerable and unfamiliar. But after being steeped in this kind of training, it becomes familiar, enjoyable, even.

As a voice teacher and actor, this has been my world for many years. But in 2010, I took a hiatus from it when my husband and I pressed pause on life in New York City to give birth to our first baby in the rural calm of Vermont. My Birkenstock-clad midwives measured my bump with tape measures and taught me hypnosis-based birth techniques as I prepared for an epidural-free birth. I dutifully followed guided meditations and visualized forest paths and ocean tides. I devoured any and all guidance on childbirth I could get. As a rookie mom-to-be I didn’t know the first thing about any of this, so I relied on the experts. Despite my best efforts, the stroll-down-the-forest-path birth I had prepared for didn’t happen as planned. The techniques I’d studied were useless for me; instead, I spent hours contorted in agony and helplessly mute, so heavily dosed with narcotics that I was unable to articulate in words that I needed something different. In the end, we were infinitely lucky to have a healthy baby girl. However, the process left a lot to be desired.

Four years later, baby #2 was on the way. By that time, I had plunged back into the world of voice training and had begun a career as a certified teacher of Fitzmaurice Voicework®. I felt confident in what I knew about how the body and voice could work to facilitate release in the context of actor training. I decided, ‘Well, what the hell? This time, I’ll try using the voice work I know. Can’t be worse than last time, can it?’

As it turned out, it was a whole lot better.

It also turned out that I wasn’t the only person with this background who had gotten through labor using techniques rooted in theatre voice training. I was introduced to close collaborator Jenny Mercein of Tulane University, also a professional actor with extensive voice training. Jenny had also just given birth and had also relied on her voice training in labor, so much so that the nurses dubbed her “the singing mom.”

While researching the article we would eventually co-author, (The Voice and Speech Review, “The Birth Process and Theatre Voice Training: The Glorious Chorus”) we talked to a lot of actor/moms with similar backgrounds who had done the same thing in their births. The techniques they used worked to facilitate physical ease, yes, but vocalizing was a big piece of it. These were noisy births. And the helpful vocal expression wasn’t always the calm, low, serene sounds that many childbirth educators promote. There was moaning, singing, growling like a wild animal, shouting Shakespeare (!)…you name it. And according to these women, vocalization itself was an aid. It seemed to provide a sense of empowerment, ownership of the experience and even lessened the sensation of pain.

Image of pregnant woman sitting cross legged with hands over her heart and belly

I wanted to talk to providers. What did midwives and obstetricians know about the intersection of vocalization and labor? Had this been studied? At the University of Michigan in 2018, I met Certified Nurse Midwives Ruth Zielinski, Lee Roosevelt and Dr. Lisa Harris, MD. This research inquiry was, in fact, new; the effect of vocalization on laboring women hadn’t been explored. I was shocked to learn from them that they had all encountered experiences when a laboring woman was redirected to be lower, calmer…quieter. Or scolded for using “inappropriate language” when throwing in some four-letter words. Or told that making sound would sap their energy. Directly shushed, even. In the labor and delivery wing, nurses sometimes give each other the side-eye if one’s patient is being too loud or disruptive. These examples reveal something about the culture surrounding birth in many institutions. Given this reality, it is unsurprising that women often do not feel free to follow their instincts (vocal or otherwise) in childbirth. The examples are also symptomatic, of course, of a long history of women being silenced in broader societal contexts.

What would happen if expectant mothers had the kinds of tools for vocal expression that we voice teachers hope to instill in our theatre students? To find out, Zielinski, Roosevelt, Harris and I began a research project: “Impolite Birth: Theatre Voice Training and the Experience of Childbirth.” I developed a voice class geared toward expectant moms with the collaboration of the research time and my actor and voice colleagues Jenny Mercein and Laura Quigley. The project is on-going as I prepare to work with pregnant women (on zoom, for now) and introduce them to this work.

The human voice is a powerful tool of expression. That power is not limited to projecting one’s lines to the back of a theatre; it also holds the capacity to deeply affect both the listener and the speaker themself. The exploration of voice taps into vulnerable aspects of ourselves, revealing truths otherwise left hidden. There is catharsis and liberation in the expression of sound, whether it be in a play or in a birthing suite. As I continue with this research, I am excited to explore the ways in which voice work can be an aid for humans in a variety of ways and share its value beyond the confines of the stage.

 

Kris Danford & Jenny Mercein (2018) The Birth Process and Voice Training: The Glorious Chorus, Voice and Speech Review, 12:1, 35-48, DOI: 10.1080/23268263.2018.1417097

Swee, Genevieve, and Annett Schirmer. “On the Importance of Being Vocal: Saying “Ow” Improves Pain Tolerance.” The Journal of Pain, Vol. 16, No. 4, 2015, pp.326-334. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.jpain.2015.01.002.

REASON TO HOPE: Making Theatre Antiracist – Contributed by Gwendolyn Walker

Tara Caimi2 Comments

by Gwendolyn Walker
Assistant Professor of Voice for Musical Theatre

headshot of Gwendolyn Walker

The Day Theatre Stopped

On March 12, 2020, the Broadway League made the unprecedented announcement that Broadway shows would shutter their doors for a month. One month turned into three, then six. Currently, Broadway will stay closed until at least May 30, 2021, and most officials believe it will be even longer.

On May 25, George Floyd, a 46-year-old Black man, was killed in Minneapolis, Minnesota by police officers while in their custody after a store clerk alleged that Floyd had passed a counterfeit $20 bill. The murder was videotaped and went viral. Soon, U.S. citizens and people around the world had watched Floyd die while pleading with the arresting officers that he could not breathe. This produced an immediate and enormous social justice movement in the United States and around the world.

These are stressful times. One way that I handle stress is to think proactively. The whole theatre world in this country is currently paused. This pause gives us an opportunity to plan for what sort of theatrical world we hope to return to when theatres once again open their doors. What of the pre-Covid “normal” is worth keeping and what is worth changing, for example?

As much as I love American musical theatre, considerable change must occur for it to be an art form for all people.

Musical theatre is currently dominated by white, heteronormative, neurotypical stories, whereas BIPOC, queer, and neurodiverse stories are the extreme exception. Too often, we tell stories that require artists to conform to a default and distorted vision of “normal.” The consequence is an industry that is fundamentally patriarchal, misogynistic, heteronormative, neurotypical, and racist. By not addressing this distortion, we perpetuate the idea that straight, white, cis-gendered, neurotypical cultural identities are—and should be—the default, and in doing so we continue the suppression of all other people.

Dr. Ibram X. Kendi

Book cover of How to be an Antiracist by Ibram X. Kendi

A few weeks ago, as part of my work on Penn State’s College of Arts and Architecture’s Equity, Diversity, and Inclusion Committee, I co-hosted a pre-talk discussion about the work of Dr. Ibram X. Kendi, an antiracist activist, scholar, and author of the book, How to Be an Antiracist.  Kendi was interviewed in a live, virtual event for Penn State, and to prepare for our discussion, I read his books and watched every interview and speech of his that I could find. I was shook. His ideas are daring, and he made me think about racism, my activism, and theatre in a new and hopeful way. Additionally, in his book, he extends his ideas of racism to include gender-racism and queer-racism, which I found empowering.

According to Dr. Kendi, “racist” is such a pejorative word that most people equate it with being a bad person. Because most people consider themselves to be good people, they also consider themselves to be “not racist.” The problem is that “not racist” isn’t something you do, it is something you say—a moniker you hang on yourself or a passive comment. Typically, we say it in response to someone calling us out for being racist in the first place. “I’m not a racist!” we reply.

But to be truly “not racist”, Dr. Kendi suggests we must be active: we must be antiracist. When you label yourself ‘not racist’ there is no action implied there. Nothing to do. Additionally, Kendi says we must recognize that the same person can be racist one moment and antiracist the next because being antiracist is something that we DO, not someone who we ARE. For example, a person might agree with a racist political policy in one moment, and an antiracist environmental policy in the next – so in juxtaposing moments, that person could be described as racist and antiracist.

Further, Dr. Kendi challenges the idea that ignorant and hateful people propagate and are responsible for racism. Kendi shows how people in power, acting in their own self-interest, often create racist policies that make these powerful people more powerful, but the original intent is not to be racist – it’s self-interest. These racist policies, in turn, govern the majority of people and so these racist policies eventually lead to racist ideas to justify them. Those racist ideas eventually lead to ignorance and hate, but the ignorance and hate were not why the racist policy was created in the first place: self-interest is the culprit.

“One either believes problems are rooted in groups of people, as a racist, or locates the roots of problems in power and policies, as an antiracist.” – Ibram X. Kendi

In other words,
The words We think it goes this way with an arrow pointing to the right over four boxes that read, left to right, Ignorance and hate, Racist ideas, Racist policies, Self-Interest above the words It actually goes this way with an arrow pointing right to left

Applying Kendi’s Theory to Theatre

Understanding this chain of causation helps us understand why racist, misogynistic, heteronormative, neurotypical theatre perpetuates itself. Applying Dr. Kendi’s idea to the theatrical industry, powerful people, acting in their own self-interest, believe they will make more money by not challenging theatre-goer’s ideas. If straight, white, male, cis-gendered theatre constitutes “normal” by default, powerful people will continue to create theatre that conforms to that idea because doing so will make them more money. The result is that theatre goers routinely ingest straight, white, male, cis-gendered theatre, further reinforcing and confirming whatever racist cultural ideas they may have. These racist ideas are then put into practice as daily thoughts, actions, and belief systems, and those ideas lead to exclusion, ignorance, and hate.

In other words,
The words We think it goes this way with an arrow pointing to the right over four boxes that read, left to right, Ignorance and hate, Racist ideas, Racist Theatre, Self-Interest above the words It actually goes this way with an arrow pointing right to left

I am explicitly saying that when we create racist, misogynistic, neurotypical, and heteronormative theatre, we are creating theatre that perpetuates exclusion, ignorance, and hate.

The time is long overdue that we, as an industry, actively fight against that. It is not enough to say that we don’t do these things. We must passionately and actively do the opposite.

People instinctively turn to artists following catastrophic events. People are buying books again! They are binge-watching shows on Netflix and buying music streaming services. All of this content is created by artists, and we are more powerful now than ever. We shape consciences with the art we choose to make, and we must be conscious about the message contained in the art that we choose.

The shutdown combined with the biggest antiracist movement in our country in 70 years offers us a unique opportunity to create an enormous, positive change in the way we create theatre; to challenge ourselves to be radically inclusive and equitable. I would go even further and say that this is our responsibility. We must help lead the world out of this humanitarian crisis.

How can we do that? What ACTIONS can we take? Here are a few ideas:

  1. Give money to BIPOC, LGBTQIA+, neurodiverse, and female-identifying writers, lyricists, playwrights, theatre companies, theatre creatives, and activist organizations. Money is power and it takes power to create change. If you can’t give money; give opportunities. If you can’t give opportunities; give your time.
  2. Get on the board for a theatre company and make your voice heard. Run for office in one of the theatre unions with the specific goal to create antiracist policy change. When you are on the board, you help create policy, and policy is power.
  3. Hire non-white and neurodiverse theatre makers, women, and transgender artists for your team and listen to them.
  4. Eliminate tokenism. Diverse people need opportunities to portray fully realized characters rather than harmful, racist stereotypes.
  5. Theatre creators can ask themselves if the roles they are creating and casting need to be played by a specific gender, physical ability, or skin color, and if not, to leave the character description open. For example, instead of a character breakdown that reads, “Strong leading man, baritone to A4,” it could instead read, “Strong, grounded character with a good sense of humor about themselves who’s been kicked around by life but still believes in love.”
  6. Participate in antiracist theatre groups and encourage colleagues to do the same. The Asian-American Performers’ Action Coalition and the African-American Artists’ Alliance are a couple of great ones.
  7. Create an antiracist theatre action committee at your institution or if you can, create a position for a person who is the director of diversity, equity, and inclusion. Invite them to be part of your casting and season selection processes.
  8. Read antiracist literature and follow antiracist activists on social media.

What actions can you think of that we can take as a community? What changes can you make to become more antiracist? How can we overcome the obvious obstacles? For example, to produce more antiracist theatre that is successful, we will need people willing to see theatre that is different. That will not be easy. I recognize that this idea is fraught with seemingly insurmountable problems.

But I believe we can do it. I believe that we are capable of bringing about an equitable, diverse, and inclusive new normal where the theatre that we make represents our entire community. Will it be perfect? No. Will it be easy? No. Will we correct all the harm that has been perpetrated against our beautiful and diverse community? No. But we must try. This unique moment in time makes this a perfect time to begin to be the change we want to see in the world. I believe, like Dr. Kendi, that change is possible. I believe in the power of theatre-makers to change hearts and minds. I believe in my community. I believe that there are so many reasons to hope.

*Original Graphic idea from Toby Sinclari’s “Book Summary: How To Be an Antiracist by Ibram X. Kendi – The 3 Big Ideas.” 21 June 2020.

Gwendolyn Walker is an Assistant Professor of Voice and Alexander Technique at Penn State’s BFA Musical Theatre program. She is certified by the Contemporary Alexander School and she maintains a busy New York City studio. Her students can be seen in most shows on Broadway today.

The Sounds of Silence – Contributed by Darrin Thornton

Tara Caimi5 Comments

by Darrin Thornton
Assistant Director, Penn State School of Music
Professor of Music Education

I am a Black man born and raised here in America. Growing up on the edge of the civil rights movement I witnessed the turmoil of growth from a very front row seat if not from within the mix as a guinea pig of psycho-social theory to practice in public policy.

I think of intersections when I consider the two pandemics of Covid-19 and Systemic Racism, particularly in America. The confluence of these two pandemics provides a pointed illustration of what long-standing systemically racist policy can lead to ultimately – disproportionate loss of life and socio-political unrest.

I am moved deeply by sound and spend a great deal of time exploring how musical sound affects our human condition. The craft of ultimately expressing something outside of myself provides deep meaning and fulfillment. Part of that craft requires the ability to listen deeply and critically, and to discern my particular role in the sound creation in any given moment. Listening plays such a large role in that process.

Balance is a concept common to most art forms. There are moments of musical sound that involve the absence of sound. This void without sound is a powerful space between moments of sound. We consider how we entered the silence as musicians. During the “rest” we consider the character and purpose of the sounds we will make when we re-enter the sound tapestry.

This concept of silence is a lens through which I have made sense of this moment in time where these two pandemics have collided – in quarantine, physically-distanced. It is difficult and honestly painful to describe how it feels to witness and be an active participant in these moments.

The Traumatizing Sounds of Silence. With Covid-19, there is a historical understanding that people have been pushing against racist policies that hinder access and equity. This is especially true for health care and the ancillary spaces that enhance the conditions of “bad health”. When risk factors for Covid-19 are viewed demographically, those bodies that resemble my own are most “at-risk”. As if the Covid-19 virus is targeting me and those like me most. The numbers are telling the story in ways that are undeniable.

These racist policies are so embedded within our nation’s fabric that it requires excavation to uncover and unpack them. It may be hard to see for people who are not as directly affected by the oppressive ramifications of these policies and practices. Nonetheless, they are still there. They have been there for a long time. People have used their voices, and their votes, and their actions to express these concerns for years – yet the policies persist.

If you are the targeted demographic, over time the persistence of these policies that oppress you disproportionately erodes your sense of belonging. You begin to feel your voice doesn’t matter. That often leads to silence as you stop using your voice feeling it won’t be heard so what is the point. It feels like you are pushing against a tidal wave of counter story that floods the scene in high gloss white lights. You and your concerns are erased. A colorblind filter is then applied that drowns you out despite the historical and ongoing evidence of your oppression.

Choked out voices via the oppressive strictures “on our neck” do make it hard to breathe let alone speak. Then to have the common trope tossed in your face – why didn’t you say something? Or, be in situations within white spaces where you the oppressed are to “report wrongdoing” in order to start the process of exploring said wrongdoing. That is a lot to ask of someone within the cycle of oppression who finds it hard to breathe. They aren’t even being seen, and certainly aren’t being heard.

These pandemics collide in ways that illustrate this phenomenon nicely. Racist policies affecting black bodies disproportionately at the intersections is an all too familiar theme. This theme runs through most aspects of our society when we are willing to look, listen, and hear.

I am further disheartened when those like me are not-seen, not-heard, silenced, erased and dismissed because the underlying issues are so hard to see and prove; or even harder for some to deal with once they are seen. Why does it take a medical pandemic to show the racial disparity? Especially with many witnessed accounts reported by those experiencing the oppression for hundreds of years in American history.

Those who have the option to not see, not hear, not act are the very ones with the power to enact the changes we all need. However, not until things reach pandemic levels, or until the accounts can be witnessed in living color, do the issues causing the racial pandemics become visible.

Silence during this collision of pandemics actively upholds the racist strictures that pin many bodies down making it hard to breathe. Being erased from a space you call home is dehumanizing. The fact that it continues to happen, and some opt to be mute creates traumatizing sounds of silence.

The Healing Sounds of Silence. The silence resulting from the lack of anti-racist action in both pandemics is felt very strongly. Yet, this moment in time provides a chance to heal as we take it all in.

Anti-racist battle fatigue, the anger and frustrations of discovering Whiteness, the attempts to reach out, the questions regarding what can be done, the outrage for the growing list of names and captured videos, the #hashtag expressions, the media coverage and spin, the newfound spaces allowing expression and asking for perspective – a lot to take in, process and hear.

Meanwhile, black bodies are dying in the same fashion every day. Those bodies not caught on camera, and the body count of those MOST “at-risk” by Covid-19. It is a lot to take in, process and hear.

We have entered into moments of silence as we have been forced into quarantine and social distance. That distance has its effect on us as we consider how interconnected we are as humans – this unnatural distance accentuates that reality.

Like in music, this pause in the ongoing sound provides an opportunity for us to consider how we have entered this silence and how we will emerge from this silence when we begin to engage together more fully again. The degree we are active during this silence gives me hope in ways I have not felt hope in some time. These sounds of silence are a healing balm.

Though I don’t have answers, I do have hope that humankind will find ways to ACT from each of our individual positionalities to make real changes that lead to healthy outcomes for all of us.

How am I coping? When asked that question I point to the goodness and kindness I do feel surrounding this moment in time. I point to those who are becoming more aware, and to those who are struggling yet reaching out to do all they can to be well.

I count my many blessings for the privileges I am afforded and endeavor to do my part to erase racism and to assist those most affected by Covid-19. I pray and am mindful of my surroundings and my particular place within these spaces. I listen, music is a comfort for me always but especially during these times.

The meanings within musical expression have always moved me deepest. I have leaned into musical expressions and shared those when possible. I’ve been reading and revisiting great expressions of Black people both from the past and the present.

I’ve been engaging with those who have questions and concerns and wish to know how they can help. Not engaging with answers as much as holding space to walk with people through these phases of awakening as they walk with me through phases of pain, healing, and further awakening.

Sharing and learning all at once in this process of making sense and meaning from this particular moment in history is healing. I consider how we will emerge from this “grand pause”. I remember the swirling sounds that existed before the pause and imagine the sounds that will return as we re-enter what is to come.

I grew up hearing Lift Every Voice and Sing. It was first written as a poem and later set to music. I encourage you to read the lyrics of the poem/song and consider the relevance and meaning of those words today: NAACP | NAACP History: Lift Every Voice and Sing and offer one of my favorite arrangements for orchestra and choir arranged by Roland Carter.

During this time of Covid-19 and heightened awareness of Systemic Racism, I have reflected on the many position statements and our Nation’s history. I have landed on these three take-away C’s as a hopeful way toward healing:

  • Call – call out racism and break down the policies that bind us to its ugliness,
  • Claim – claim our individual role in the racist structure (own it),
  • Commit – commit to ACTION, doing our part to break the silence with purpose.

It is my hope that enacting these three C’s will provide pathways for ALL of us to erase and silence systemic racism.

The strength of our nation is the degree to which we can Lift Every Voice – and Sing – Together!

Resources that have caused me great comfort and deep reflection during this time:

Music:

Breathe
Inspired by the death of Eric Garner and in solidarity with the Movement for Black Lives, India.Arie presents BREATHE. India sings this song to grieve those we have lost while powerfully affirming life. The song was co-written and co-produced by India.Arie and Aaron Lindsey.

Lift Every Voice and Sing – James Weldon Johnson arr. Orchestral Winds

History and original lyrics: NAACP | NAACP History: Lift Every Voice and Sing

A month ago, we decided to record Lift Every Voice and Sing to inspire young black musicians who don’t often see representation of themselves in orchestral music. Instead, here we are again mourning senseless loss of lives and fighting for justice. This recording is for every protester, every freedom fighter, everyone who needs to be lifted up and to honor George Floyd, Breonna Taylor, Ahmaud Arbery, and the numerous others whose lives have been stolen by police violence.

Seven Last Words of the Unarmed – Joel Thompson
On March 31, 2019, the Tallahassee Symphony Orchestra (TSO) partnered with the Morehouse College Glee Club and Florida A&M University Concert Choir for this powerful performance of Joel Thompson’s “Seven Last Words of the Unarmed.” Dr. David Morrow of Morehouse College conducts this piece that laments the untimely deaths of 7 unarmed black men. Following the performance is a panel discussion about the work, led by Leon County (FL) Sheriff Walt McNeil, which includes composer Joel Thompson and two TSO board members—Byron Greene and Patrick Slevin.

Word: Spoken and Written

Always Clean the Light – Dr. Bertice Berry

Analysis: George Floyd, Coronavirus and Inequality Stealing Black Lives
This analysis was originally published by the Center for Public Integrity:

Brene Brown with Austin Channing Brown: Black Dignity in a World Made for Whiteness

Brené with Ibram X. Kendi on How to Be an Antiracist

Sterling K. Brown – Speaks on the Pandemic
“Did this live, and wasn’t gonna post. A friend convinced me otherwise. So here it is. #irunwithmaud …”

What I Want To Tell White Professors When They Ask, “How I’m Doing Today?”

Your Black Colleagues May Look Like They’re Okay — Chances Are They’re Not

This piece has been reprinted with accompanying images on the National Association for Music Education website: https://nafme.org/sounds-silence/