In her essay “The white-centering logic of diversity ideology,” Sarah Mayorga-Gallo suggests that a “diversity ideology” has overtaken colorblind racism (i.e., “I don’t see color”) as the predominant strategy by which institutions develop and implement racial justice initiatives. She describes four tenets of a diversity ideology: diversity as acceptance, diversity as intent, diversity as commodity, and diversity as liability.
Diversity as acceptance effectively translates to representation and inclusion with little attention given to the structures that produced the inequities in the first place. Lamar’s winning the Pulitzer Prize and having a special session devoted to his work at the Society for Music Theory conference are examples of this tenet of diversity ideology.
Diversity as intent manifests as an institution’s good intentions toward racial justice. This tenet relies on the promise of equity or justice, which may be representation and inclusion, but stops short of acting on it, thus shifting the focus away from the structures of oppression and onto the institution itself. Mayorga-Gallo writes, “Firms and individuals—however well-intentioned—use the language of diversity to signal a commitment to humanist principles, such as equity and justice. This commitment, however, often focuses more on being an institution or person who values diversity than challenging a system of structural inequity” (p. 8). Both the Grammy Awards debacle and the awarding of the Pulitzer Prize are examples of diversity as intent. These types of high-profile awards have been historically exclusive to people of color (read about the Grammy’s tumultuous relationship with rap music here). By recognizing Lamar’s album—one that comes from a genre that seems to be completely at odds with the kinds of art the organization has historically valued—with a Pulitzer, the organization seems to be telegraphing that it values diversity but it does little to reckon with and atone for the internal controls and decisions of the organization which led to the long-time exclusion of popular music by non-white musicians in the first place. (There are those who are campaigning to award the 1965 Pulitzer Prize in Music to Duke Ellington posthumously as a way of acknowledging this kind of exclusion; however, the impetus is coming from outside of the Pulitzer organization). The winners since 2018 have largely been members of marginalized groups, although there are still quite a few white men among the finalists.
Scholars in the academy earn jobs, promotion, tenure, and grants based on conference presentations, articles, and research presentations in other media. By directing scholarly attention to rap music, white scholars stand to benefit professionally. Here, diversity functions as a commodity, which Leong defines as “the process of deriving social or economic value from the racial identity of another person. […] in which a white individual or a predominantly white institution derives social or economic value from associating with individuals with nonwhite racial identities” (2153-4). That universities are predominantly white institutions—particularly in terms of the faculty that constitute them—means that nonwhiteness is highly valued
At a job interview, I was asked to present on my approches to ear training (I was—and still am—working on an ear-training textbook so it made a bit of sense). Conversation drifted toward my interest in rap and how that might manifest in ear training. I talked for a bit, and one of the committee members asked me about harmonic analysis of rap music, to which I replied rather glibly, “now why would anyone want to do that?” (I didn’t get the job.) This to me is a subtle example of diversity as liability, the idea that diversity might usurp the traditional white American/Europan values held dear by the university. Studying rap music forces us not only to reconsider the tools and methodologies we use but also the values that underpin those tools and methodologies. In some cases, we may just need to throw the baby out with the bath water (too far?).
I do recognize that, as a white guy who works in the realm of rap music, I am far from immune from these critiques. I think that this current project as a whole—see my “about the author” posts here and here—represents an effort to understand my role in this system, and to help other understand theirs. I’ve said to my colleagues on many occasions that the ultimate outcome of this kind of anti-racist work should be to teach/write/whatever myself out of a job, to dismantle the systems that have historically oppressed those who do have the kind of lived experience to help others understand it in a more complex, authentic way.
The next post or two considers the distinction between rights and needs: does rap music have a right to be in the academy? Does it need to be in the academy? If the answer to either or both of those questions is “yes,” then in what ways does it belong in the academy? I will argue that white scholars historically have been the ones making those decisions, but that such decision-making is (for obvious reasons) problematic. Stay tuned!