As I’ve grown older, I’ve come to a fundamental realization: my artistry and my emotions are inextricably linked. This might seem obvious, but the culture of band directing has conditioned me to compartmentalize. I’m expected to be calm and intellectual off the podium and be a vibrant source of artistry on it. But the truth is, I am my artistry, and I struggle with the concept of “professionalism” because it often demands I mute the thoughts, feelings, and experiences that make me who I am.
I’ve always been a deeply emotional and sensitive person. Even at 33, I still feel the urge to cry when someone raises their voice. I love deeply and fiercely, and I experience joy and rage equally. For a long time, I saw this emotional depth as a weakness. Now, I’m beginning to understand it as my superpower. My purpose is to evoke artistic expression in myself and others, and that’s impossible if I can’t feel it. I’d argue that the traditional concept of professionalism is fundamentally at odds with the true nature of band directing.
“Professionalism” is often defined as presenting oneself with integrity and respect. But beyond the dictionary definitions, the practical applications are steeped in patriarchal and exclusionary norms. Think dress pants, collared shirts, well-fitting clothes, closed-toe shoes, minimal accessories – the unspoken goal is often to project an image of wealth, whiteness, and power. This immediately creates barriers for Black, Indigenous, and BIPOC women, LGBTQ+ individuals, people with disabilities, the neurodivergent, immigrants, and countless others who simply want to be themselves in the workplace. Where is the room for diversity, culture, or artistic expression? And how can “professionalism” claim to be apolitical when it so clearly reinforces existing power structures?
Traditional “professionalism” often expects women to be subservient and apologetic, prioritizing masculinity over femininity. It strips artists of their agency, demanding they change their clothes, hair, and personalities to fit in and succeed. And heaven forbid you challenge this notion because questioning the power structure is often seen as unacceptable, even if you’re right. We’re conditioned to repress our humanity in service of an inauthentic persona, denying opportunities and dismissing perspectives from those who live or think outside the box.
“Professionalism” should serve us, not the other way around. It should never supersede the empathy and understanding we owe to the diverse individuals in our workplaces. It’s time for a decolonization of what “professionalism” truly means.
Reimagining professionalism isn’t about abandoning all obligations to one another. It’s about starting with self-education, examining the biases we’ve unconsciously absorbed and accepted as the only path to success. We are not cogs in a machine; we are human beings deserving of work environments where we can thrive authentically, precisely as we are.