Many graduates spoke out about their experiences of racism at the UK’s drama, dance and circus schools after the organisations posted messages trumpeting their support for the Black Lives Matter movement. Those alumni have provided powerful testimonies of their experiences in education and rightly pointed out that these institutions ought to get their own houses in order first.
Although there is merit in the suggestion that more staff diversity might have prevented some of the racism experienced by these students, the problems described are entrenched at the highest levels of these organisations and affect their few black and minority ethnic staff as deeply as it does their students.
As a gay Asian who worked in a major British conservatoire for almost a decade, I?experienced this first-hand – not just from the institution and colleagues, but also from some students.
My experiences ranged from being forced to work months of unpaid overtime while white colleagues were fully compensated for doing the same; being refused training that was freely available to others; having my experience and expertise continuously undermined; and being subject to arbitrary disciplinary proceedings.
I alerted senior management to this, and provided substantial evidence, yet was met with defensiveness and contempt. It was only when I?commenced proceedings to take the school to an employment tribunal that managers committed to investigate my experiences, although that investigation never took place. In the end, I?was explicitly passed over for a promotion because I?had raised the issue of racism with managers: the chief executive told me that I?was not suited to working there because of my tendency to use “alarming words”.
The issues arising from my sexual orientation at the school were more nuanced. Like many LGBTQ people of colour, I?have discovered that in some circles my sexuality is embraced as proof of integration or “westernisation” and thus provides some superficial defence against racial discrimination.
As the arts have long been something of a haven for sexual minorities, my experiences of homophobia were less pronounced and systematic than the racism I?encountered, but there were some shocking incidents.
On one occasion, a janitor overheard part of a lecture that I?was delivering on queer theory to undergraduates and complained to the chief executive, who summoned me to demand justification for teaching such a “distasteful” subject.
Her successor attempted to ban a gay Muslim student from performing a piece he had created exploring Islam and homosexuality. It was only after I?said I?would resign over the issue and the student raised the spectre of legal action that he was permitted to present his work.
Based on my own experiences, as well as those of graduates and other staff who are now speaking out, it would seem that performing arts schools are a uniquely fertile ground for such abuses. This will surprise those who perceive the arts as a vanguard of progressiveness, but this unshakable belief in their own virtue also gives rise to a profound sense of exceptionalism.
Until very recently, there has been a steadfast refusal to accept that biases that suffuse other parts of society could exist in creative institutions because tolerance and pluralism are part of the core identity of many who work in the arts. Their capacity for introspection and positive action is obstructed by the high moral esteem in which they hold themselves. As my students and I?discovered, those who challenge this treasured self-image can be derided and punished.
I’ve since had the good fortune to take over course leadership of the theatre and performance programme at London Metropolitan University, where management has shown outstanding commitment to increasing diversity and closing the attainment gap between BAME and other students.
Such effort is highly commendable, but a more difficult area that all institutions must face is the disproportionate levels of abuse that minority staff can suffer from some students. I?have very recently been shouted at, belittled and reminded of my place by students in a manner that shocks my white colleagues but is very familiar to BAME academics.
There is an assumption that as figures of authority, we can defend ourselves, but the customer service model that has developed alongside tuition fees and competition for student numbers leaves all educators in a paradoxical position.
For ethnic minority staff, we must not only strike a difficult balance between giving students what they need and what they want, and assessing them fairly when some believe that they?are paying for a first, but must also tolerate racialised responses when we fail to satisfy. The capacity of educators to challenge such behaviour is very limited when we are pressured to retain students at all costs and complaints procedures are based on the supposition that misuse of power in learning environments only ever flows in one direction.
These challenges are not insurmountable. Increasing staff diversity is an important start, but leadership must also be prepared to adapt in response to what they hear from BAME staff. This means introducing programmes that explore unconscious bias for students and staff alike; restoring authority to lecturers; and developing more balanced systems for enforcing discipline.
My own institution is doing trailblazing work to implement a more inclusive curriculum, and it has taken significant measures to demonstrate commitment to the advancement of students from all parts of society. However, the entire sector must also work to ensure that classrooms are a safer space for staff. The racism did not stop when we graduated from university, and we cannot protect students unless we are ourselves protected.
Rishi Trikha is a director and dramaturge, and senior lecturer in theatre and performance at London Metropolitan University.
