queer self-advocacy in musical spaces (with Kim Mendez)
A conversation about creating spaces for self-advocacy for trans and non-binary musicians, the work of being an ally, and a new project for virtual networking.
Dear reader,
Happy Sunday afternoon! I’m writing to you from the car on the way to an audition in Boston. I’m excited to sing this evening, but, of course, feeling some of the nerves that auditions bring. Things are about to get busier for me, as more ensembles start back up for the semester, and I’m excited for a couple of performances coming up this weekend. Check out the schedule at the bottom of this letter to learn more :)
This week’s letter features an interview with Kim Mendez, a wonderful friend that I met two summers ago at a choral program. We stayed in touch, and ended up having lunch at a park in L.A. this past summer. The conversation that we had over our Korean food spanned from life updates to some recent challenges we’ve faced to ideas we have about further connections and representation of queer, trans, and non-binary people in classical music. Keep reading through our conversation to learn more about how you can get involved!
Who are you and what do you do?
My name is Kim Mendez, and my pronouns are they/them/theirs. I am a musician of the vocal arts; I sing mostly in choirs. I also teach preschool music education. I'm very interested in working with and learning about the pedagogy of teaching transgender singers, as well as especially young trans singers, or people who are early in their transition so that they can have a successful transition and sing with their own voice. I think that's something that's really important for all singers and that trans and non-binary people don't usually have the opportunity to find their own voice until much later in life. So that's who I am and what I do!
Could you talk a little bit about your path up until this point?
I grew up around music because my parents are musicians, but it was always very much a hobby. My family was pretty poor growing up. My dad is from an immigrant family. He was born in Mexico. And my mom's from a large family in the Midwest who, like her parents, lived through the Great Depression, and were very working class. Music was definitely a way of connecting with each other. It was a way I connected with my dad's parents because they loved music. My Lita, his mom, never stopped moving. She was either cooking or gardening or cleaning something always and while she was doing it, she was usually singing old mariachi style ballads and stuff.
Once I graduated, I didn't have any fucking clue what I wanted to do with my life. Coming from people who love music, but didn't see music as a career, I didn't think that that was actually a possibility for me. So I took some music classes, I did some community musical theater stuff, some musical theater stuff through the local community college, but I had no direction. I was basically just dicking around as a teenager and in my early 20s. My hometown is a place where if you don't leave for college and end up somewhere else, you either go to Chico State and end up teaching at your old elementary school or high school, or you are on the path to just be drunk or high all the time and work dead end jobs the rest of your life. I was on the latter path. Eventually, I had a visit from a friend I’d known for a long time who grew up in Chico and had moved to SoCal. She was like, “oh, I need a roommate!” And I was like, “oh, I need a place to live!” So I quit my job, left Chico and moved to Monrovia. A few months later, I ended up living like two blocks from Pasadena City College. I didn't have a job and I knew I could get financial aid that would help if I went to school, so I ended up at Pasadena City College in their fashion design program.
I actually got my first degree in fashion, and focused on historical costuming, because I wanted to make historical clothing. It was really fun. I worked in film and television in costume for about six years, but after that long decided I like to eat and sleep on a semi-regular basis. It was also just too much for my body. My back couldn't handle the bending over and hand sewing fine details; it was uncomfortable. And I’d been working in the industry for six years until I got my first paying gig; I had been interning for free up until then. Talk about gatekeeping in an industry. But then in 2016 I decided to go back to school again and study music. My initial goal was actually to become a music therapist. I started back at PCC and was encouraged by my professors to go the performance route instead of the therapy route. So I transferred from PCC to UCLA in 2018. I got my bachelor's online in 2020, and did my first year of grad school at UCLA in 2021. And got my master's in 2022. Along with this journey, I also met my husband in 2016. At the time, he was identifying as a non-binary person and he was the first person I knew that was using they/them pronouns. I thought that was super interesting. I was really starting to understand my gender experience at the same time of going back to school to study music, and I came out as non-binary in 2017 at school. I didn't come out to my family until probably 2019, or maybe even later.
So I feel like my journey through classical music is very much tied to my gender experience as well, which is really interesting. Because my experience in classical singing, of course, in a lot of these institutions is very opera based. I was the first out non-binary or trans person in any of the music programs that I was in. I spent a lot of time fighting with people to have my pronouns recognized and for them to not say things like, “ladies and gentlemen” in choir rehearsals and revamping what the dress code says.
When I started in my master's program, we were online, and I met my friend, Louise. She told me later that she was only able to come out because she saw that I was in the program and that I was a trans non-binary person who has potential to succeed in this industry. And so she came out the second year of our grad school program, so I was really proud of her for that.
I graduated in 2020, and I've been doing the independent musician gigging situation since then. My first paying gig was with a group called Artes Vocales , and through them, I met some fantastic singers, one of whom is the director for the Spanish language services at the Cathedral of Our Lady of Angels in downtown Los Angeles. So that's my current church gig. Which is kind of cool, because then I get to tap into my heritage a little bit. I also have a contract with the Long Beach Camerata singers this coming March that I’m really excited about. Also, I am the Executive Director of Adoro Music Ensemble, which is a small 16-singer ensemble, developed by my good friend, and artistic director, Joung-A Yum, who is a doctoral student at UCLA, which is how we met. Our focus is mostly on early music, or early music inspired. I'm working with them to develop ourselves into something legitimate; we're still growing and I pulled in some of the singers that I've met through the cathedral!
Thanks for sharing that! I've had some similar experiences of walking into a space and knowing that by being openly non-binary, openly queer, I might be the first person in the space who's done that I think that experience in itself brings some personal challenges. But like you said, it can also have potentially really profound impacts on other people who may not have felt comfortable being out otherwise.
Do you mind talking a little bit more about some of the concrete things being the first out person in a space entailed? How did that potentially affect your experience in those spaces in ways that cis, straight folks didn't have to think about?
There is an experience that really stood out to me, thinking back, during my educational experience. A very prominent mezzo soprano came to UCLA and curated a recital. I had been at UCLA for over a year, almost two years at that point, and the opera director knew me, knew my pronouns. This mezzo soprano literally pulled me aside and told me that she was going to be misgendering me in our coaching sessions, because she didn't want to focus our time on that. Nobody stood up for me, and I didn't feel safe enough to stand up for myself. She also, in one of the coaching sessions, basically told me I needed to lose weight so that I can be a singer, which was also really shitty. That experience sucked, and it really did some psychological and emotional damage. But the long term effect is that she now has a two week intensive program that she runs, and it's one of the only free programs in the nation, and I can't even think of applying. Because I know that I will be unsafe. And it kind of hurts a little bit to know that one of my dear friends actually went to this program this year. I understand that she is a straight sized, straight cis white, pretty soprano. And so it's a very different experience for her, but still. It is frustrating that I just don’t have access to those spaces because of who I am.
That's one experience that really stands out. And I can see now, you know, four years later, the impact that it's having on my professional experience. The choral experience at UCLA was difficult in the beginning. Because again, I was the first out non-binary trans person, the first person that they had encountered that was using they/them pronouns. It took the choral director a good year to stop misgendering me, or when he would misgendered me, correct himself and move on and not spend too much time apologizing about it. He's also the conductor of another choir that I have a contract with this year. My preschool gig is also through them, and they have a troupe of the singers that come in and perform for the kids. We have bonded a bit because we spent a whole day in production together a couple of times., They have made comments about how the conductor has really gotten so much better at using gender neutral language and that he actually suggested that the choir change the dress code verbiage, and I know that’s because I literally fought with him the first year of my time at UCLA, and he finally was like, “oh, this isn't changing.” So that also feels good that people are noticing the changes in the conductor and it’s making things better for other trans/non-binary folks.
I'm sorry that you had those negative experiences. It stands out to me that one of the things that we've had to learn is true self advocacy in the spaces that you will come into, or just deciding when to care enough to advocate for yourself when it's worth it.
When it's worth it, or when it's safe.
I find it difficult sometimes to have had those conversations with people who are cis, or people who have never spent much time with trans people. Often on the surface, it can often come down to language, such as the use of gendered pronouns or words in the rehearsal space. And it can, I think, very easily be trivialized by the people who don't understand on a deeper level. But we know the greater effects that can have.
Could you tell me more about the work that you’re doing, or want to do, to create more open spaces for folks who are learning about their voices and gender identities in the concurrent manner you mentioned earlier? For you, what does the next step look like in being able to intentionally create spaces where the people who walk in the room don’t have to feel like they're fighting to be seen or advocating for themselves at every step along the way?
I think that it's really hard because I feel very powerless sometimes. So I don't necessarily know the next step.
I think building a network and community between queer, trans, and non-binary singers is going to be essential. We all have such similar experiences, and it can feel extremely lonely. I feel like if we realize how many of us there are and how powerful we can be in changing the culture around classical singing, I think that that would be a really important step for changing how people experience this world in the generations to come. I mean, it really is about culture. It feels frustrating a lot of the time because I know there’s a lot of institutional things that I have no control over. Institutions aren't built for us, you know.
When I was at UCLA, I did about a year and a half of work with the LGBTQIA+ student advocacy committee. Something that they really tried to instill in each of us was that telling our own story is really powerful advocacy. If we tell our story and our experience, then something could change. That's part of the work I want to do. If I'm singing an opera, I want it to be really queer, explicitly queer. I want to tell the stories of queer people falling in love. I cannot abide another trauma porn trans story, I can't do it.
I think there is some fear within the industry that speaking up could have negative effects on your chances of getting hired, or rehired. I’ve heard folks who are worried about getting “blacklisted.” Have there been times when saying something has actually proven to be more difficult than not?
I don't know that I've necessarily seen people be blacklisted or anything like that. I do know of a lot of trans people who have had a more difficult time, like a more difficult experience in programs or with certain groups, though. I know that there have been people who have voiced concern about speaking up or deciding not to speak up because of that same reason, though.
I'm also noticing my cis and straight allies in the industry, and that when I'm feeling unsafe to advocate for myself, there are people who step in and do it for me. And that's a culture that's shifting, and I feel like that's really happened within the year.
What does that advocacy look like? Like What specifically can they do?
Mostly, correcting people on my pronouns when I can't do it myself, or pointing out moments when gendered language or assumptions are used.
It’s those little things that people don’t think are a big deal, but when we endure them multiple times a day, it adds up.
It's mostly that sort of thing. That makes me feel safer when I'm already feeling unsafe, you know. Here's an example: Pacific Opera Project is running a recital series, and my dear friend, Julia is the curator for the series. One of her singers needed a backup singer for a holiday concert, which she asked me to sing for. When I showed up, I didn't have to tell them my pronouns, because Julia had already, and I was not misgendered. And if I was, the musician that I was singing backup for was correcting everybody around me. She was a staunch advocate for me. I didn't have to do any self advocacy during that whole process, which was a first since coming out as non-binary. That was a really cool experience.
What does a “safe space” mean to you? What does it look like to create a welcoming, accessible environment?
Honestly, I think back to when I was still in Chico, or even in high school in choirs, where I felt like I belonged immediately. A lot of these people have been singing together in community productions since they were young. As soon as I walked in, though, it felt like I was a part of the group. I want to create a space where anybody who walks into it feels like that.
I think that music and music making in community is so incredibly important and powerful. I think that everybody deserves to have a space where they feel like they belong; not where there's space for them, but where they belong. If you don't feel like you belong, you cannot sing with your whole voice. I don't think that is something that is discussed enough, especially in institutional education systems, that singing is not just a physical activity. Your voice is intrinsically tied to your emotional experience and your psychological experience.
We’ve been working on a project called the Queer Vocal Musicians Alliance, which currently exists as a Facebook group. This is intended to become a network of people working in the field who have similar priorities to those we’ve mentioned here, of inclusion and uplifting trans and non-binary musicians. What does this project mean to you?
It’s about creating community. The individual singer experience can be extremely lonely because when you're in a show, or on a gig, you get to know people, and then you don't know when you’ll see them again. It’s also about making it easy for us to refer each other for paid work, because I think that's something that we also need to develop. And creating performance spaces that feel, again, where we belong, and having conversations around things that we're experiencing within the industry and what we can do about it.
Final question: if you could travel back in time to talk with your seventeen year old self, what advice would you give them?
Take what you need, and leave what doesn't make sense or doesn't serve you. It's okay to disagree with your coaches and your teachers. They are very knowledgeable people, but they can have a very narrow view of what your individual instrument is like. They can only see it from their perspective, they cannot see it from inside of you.
You don't have to try so hard. This career is difficult but incredibly rewarding. It's not going to be like you leave school and you get a job immediately, and that doesn't mean you're a failure. Most places want to hear you two or three years in a row before you’re hired. It might take a couple times applying to them or it might take meeting the same person a couple times for it to stick.
Anything else you’d like to share or promote?
Adoro Music Ensemble will be combining with another local ensemble, Exilio, for our spring concert on April 27th at 8pm at Saint Paul the Apostle Church in Westwood, CA. Also I’ll be singing the Brahms Requiem with the Long Beach Camerata Singers and the Long Beach Symphony on March 9th at 8pm at the Terrace Theater in Long Beach.
If you’re a trans/nonbinary/gender-expansive singer search Facebook for Queer Vocal Musicians Alliance and join us as we get our roots set and build community. Also some other amazing trans singers who have started a trans/nonbinary/GE singer (and singer adjacent) directory through Opera MODO so if that’s you, go check them out here and add yourself if you so choose!
Thank you, Kim, for sharing your story in this conversation! These stories can be so impactful, and help us notice the changes that can be made to our communities for a better future.
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Upcoming Performances:
January 26, 7:30pm; Ford Hall, Ithaca College: Concert in Honor of Dr Martin Luther King Jr. with Dorothy Cotton Jubilee Singers
January 28, 3pm; Broome County Forum Theatre, Binghamton: Mozart’s Requiemwith Southern Tier Singers Collective and Binghamton Philharmonic Orchestra
February 24, 7:30pm; St. Patrick’s Cathedral, Binghamton: Arches in Sound with Southern Tier Singers Collective
Thank you for reading <3
Love,
Caitlin