i am an Anti-racist composer / musician / Creator

I am profoundly committed to the bedrock principle that Black Lives Matter.

The senseless killing of violinist Elijah McClain haunts me, giving renewed purpose as I endeavor to raise awareness of his senseless death at the hands of police officers.

We must lift up Black musicians, support Black communities, and listen to Black voices. We must sign petitions, take our messages to the streets, and donate to nonprofits committed to addressing systemic racism, and healing these wounds.

We must use our platforms to celebrate BIPOC creators, and in my case, specifically BIPOC composers, violinists and string arrangers. Please go check out the amazing work of Black Violin and the Black Violin Foundation.

Please learn about the legendary work of Paul Riser, the string and horn arranger for Motown, whose arrangements can be heard on Marvin Gaye, Stevie Wonder, Gladys Knight, Diana Ross, and The Temptations, amongst others.

When I arrange strings, I’m often given direction from an artist to make it sound like Motown. Which is shorthand for the sound of Paul Riser. I am indebted to this man, and to so many BIPOC arrangers, like Johnny Pacheco, the Cuban-American arranger whose work for Fania Records (although primarily arranging horns) has informed my own work deeply. Visionary guy. Listen to Fania, and you’re listening to Johnny Pacheco. I first came across Fania when I was in Bogota in 1994, as a wide-eyed young musician venturing outside of Europe for the first time. Salsa artists like Hector Lavoe, Los Hermanos Lebron and Celia Cruz blowing my mind in salsa clubs on the bad side of town. Unforgettable, visceral experiences that cannot be erased. Formative.

As a conductor, one of my greatest teachers was Butch Morris, the Black NYC conductor and cornetist who taught me when I was with the London Improvisers Orchestra, with whom I made an album in the late 90s which features the style of conducting Butch taught - conduction.

For film soundtracks, Kathryn Bostic shines as the one and only Black woman to be a member of the Academy. Think about that for a minute.

For classical music, there are maestros and maestras to discover, from the incredible music of Florence Price to the 18th century black Polish-British composer, George Bridgetower, whose existence helps show America that history isn’t homogenous in every country when it comes to Black people.

Black American history is specific; it’s linked to colonial histories in the UK, Europe, South America, and beyond, but it’s not the same. A lot to learn. To understand America’s Black history is to understand America’s systemic racism.

As individual members of the American music community, we must learn.

And actively, vocally be anti-racist, while amplifying the voices of BIPOC musicians.

Because, racism is an issue that non-BIPOC people need to solve, not something to simply empathize with.

Anyone who benefits from the racial hierarchy has a responsibility to disrupt it.

For example, the famous story about Marilyn Monroe offering to come hear Ella Fitzgerald sing every night at a club in order to help her get booked. That’s what was needed back then, and it’s up to us to figure out what’s needed now.

As an immigrant, I have a perspective on this. For example, whenever I create opportunities for other musicians, or hire anyone in any aspect of professional life, I always make a considered choice to include diverse BIPOC voices.

And as a composer, musician, and creative, my ability to bring these principles into my work is deepened, extended beyond these essential, universal steps.

Because, music.

I have surely failed at times, and I am reflecting on these failures. And I know this is not about me, it’s about BIPOC. But, for this statement, I’m choosing to talk about how my allyship has expressed positively over the years, with the intention of supporting other allies’ aspirations to take bold steps in breaking the glass for BIPOC. Because, it’s not about me, but it is about sharing knowledge and experience, and helping change the system, wherever we are able.

I specifically extend access to orchestral strings via the projects I create, the unclassical music I compose, and who I’ve collaborated with. I’m proud of my track record doing this, as a classically-trained composer, working in a space that’s usually white, and gendered. I’m always seeking ways to break the walls, and to include audiences who aren’t usually invited to hear the kind of music I create.

A recent example is the Billie Eilish concert I created and produced in Highland Park, Los Angeles, a predominantly Latinx neighborhood. I reached out to three local music education nonprofits to invite underserved families to enjoy a free orchestral concert at the Ebell Club, a local community space. We invited audience members to be informal, to sing along if they wanted, and to generally remove cultural barriers to the emotional beauty of orchestral music that are often in place. For some, it was the first time they’d ever seen a violin. For many, their first concert. For most, an incredibly moving experience.

I’ve worked throughout the years on numerous projects that specifically broke down concert hall walls for BIPOC, for example, an opera commissioned by the English National Opera which I worked on with my long-term collaborator, Asian Dub Foundation.

I was honored to collaborate with ADF on another project, this time for the Venice Biennale, starring Patrice Johnson, the noted Shakespearian Black actress, and Jesse J Perez, the first generation Mexican-American actor who leads the renowned Old Globe Shakespeare program at USD. The project, created by Peter Sellars, featured the Indonesian choreographer, Martinus Miroto, with his court dancers, Eko Supriyanto and Dwi Windarti.

I am forever influenced by the sounds and ideas we explored in those formative days; they formed my musical DNA as much as my classical training, or genetic heritage, playing violin as my lineage has done for centuries. But, not like this.

My work with Talvin Singh, Cleveland Watkiss, Mark Sanders, Shy FX, Ray Keith, and underground producers from London’s electronic scene gave me so much. I am indebted to BIPOC musicians in the UK, where I forged my career.

I created orchestral arrangements for reggae royalty, Black Uhuru, via Island Records, and collaborated with U-Roy, the legendary Jamaican pioneer of toasting, via a beautiful project with Dub Gabriel, who also produced an inspiring collaborative project I worked on with the Master Musicians of Joujouka. We were a part of the Baraka Orchestra with Sassan Gari, featuring Umar Bin Hassan from The Last Poets.

Good times in NYC, the 90s was a time of great musical diversity and creative collaboration here, I’m so honored to have been a part of the NY-LON scene at that time.

In LA, I composed the soundtrack to a feature film, The Owls, for director Cheryl Dunye, a Black non-binary queer filmmaker whose previous movie, The Watermelon Woman, is recognized internationally as a groundbreaking film for Black lesbian filmmakers. In NYC, I invited digital animator, Onome Ekeh, to create a film for my TEDx Talk.

Additionally, I was blessed to commission a Native American designer, Kateri Forbes, to develop my I Love Strings heart logo in 2012.

I acknowledge that I live on the Lenape island of Manhahttan (Mannahatta) and more broadly in Lenapehoking, the Lenape homeland. My respect to the Lenape ancestors past, present, and future, and to the descendants of this land, living now in exile while I’m here. I remember you, and will do what I am able to facilitate your return to your land. This is something that’s new to my awareness, but that I will hold and honor as and when I am able. First step is this, to acknowledge that we are here, while they are not, and to acknowledge my part in this.

Since 2013, I’ve been supporting indigenous and Asian musicians through my work with Passport to Taiwan, and with Taiwanese rapper, Dwagie, and Asian musicians who I’ve arranged and played strings for via Tokyo-based producer, Daniel Merlot.

My last major solo project, The Mermaid Song, reached diverse voices by partnering with Lush Cosmetics, attracting interest for this orchestral work while equally exploring ideas of ocean conservation. So while I wasn’t able to employ a single person of color when hiring the 44-piece symphony orchestra, as we recorded in Prague, I did reach BIPOC with an orchestral piece that radically broke down the concert hall walls.

My forthcoming projects will continue this legacy.

For the future, I will continue to offer a sliding scale for collaborators, so diverse people are able to access my strings, whether that’s directors, editors, or musicians seeking a collaboration.

And I commit to forever doing what I can to keep the musical conversation open. To revealing the spectrum beyond that strange binary of white music and Black music, and inhabit the space between.

Because I embody this space, with my olive skin, almond-shaped eyes, and fuzzy hair that proudly shows a physical heritage as a Jew, and a creative urge that’s stoked to explore this beautiful world with empathy, compassion, kindness, quiet discernment, passion for service, and constant inner quest for hope.

I look ethnically ambiguous; I am not white, I am a Jew, which is an Asiatic ethnogroup. My experience of life is informed by this, from the regular racist epithets thrown at me from strangers, to flattering flirtations from men of color. From Delhi to La Paz, I’ve been mistaken for a local, and in the US (where my British accent often eclipses the visual), it’s on the street that I’m most often misidentified, whether that’s as Latina, Arab, Greek, or Israeli.

My perspective is informed by my own skin in ways that I can’t explain.

I just know I’ve been called ‘exotic’ more than once in a professional setting, and that whenever I show up to conduct, I’m not conforming to anyone’s expectations, whether that’s my race or my gender.

And on the good side, I got a pass when I was in Bogota, at the salsa club on the bad side of town, so my Brown traits bring both the positive and the negative. My ambiguousness brings me a unique perspective, which I’m sharing with you, to encourage your own journey into allyship. I love being who I am.

And, yes. I have worked with a lot of white people in my career, in every aspect, from musicians to directors. You know about this, you’ve heard the music, seen the movies, read the press. I am extremely proud of this beauty, too.

But let me state this clearly again - I am profoundly committed to the bedrock principle that Black Lives Matter.

Beyond matter.

And, this isn’t about you and me, it’s about what we can do to address oppression and injustice.

Black lives are the inspiration for so much of this beauty and culture that we call American music. My music. My life. I am indebted to Black people, Brown people, and to people of color, and indigenous people, in ways that I can only express through music, and with this humble pledge to do what I can to address these injustices that are so deeply ingrained in our country. And so I invite everyone, please…

Let’s start over, with humility, as we acknowledge our personal culpability, and take pride in getting it right. Listening to Black voices, voices of indigenous people, and people of color. Seeking our inner compass, and the outer guidance we’ll need to begin doing the work of dismantling our own inner racism, and the systemic racism that is the basis for oppression.

I am reflecting deeply. 

I am crying every day.

I am looking at my own issues, as well as the ways I have been, and continue to be, a good ally. 

In writing this statement, it’s my aim to provide hope and inspiration for others, as I continue to quietly reflect and improve my own performance, as every musician does. This is a process, over a long timeline.

Join me, please, with your own commitment to addressing ways you can also support BIPOC.

And let me say that, in a word, this is the opposite of racism… CURIOSITY.

Having a curious mind is what’s led to all of the great adventures in my life.

Including all my most profound musical experiences with BIPOC creators, which I was invited to share in more depth in this interview.

I invite you to cultivate curiosity as we create this chapter together.

Meena Ysanne

New York City, June 8, 2020