by André Solomon

This is an abridged version of a post first published on Andre Solomon’s website. Click here to read the original blog entry in its entirety.

At times, life takes us on unexpected journeys that challenge our perceptions of ourselves. I had never fathomed winning a national competition, as I was accustomed to feeling second-rate, having never secured a music competition win before. However, destiny often has its own script. On April 19th, I received an email: "You are one of the two winners of the competition." I remember the sheer disbelief giving way to excitement, as I jumped around my apartment, repeating, "I CANNOT BELIEVE I WON!" This electrifying moment symbolized not only the recognition I had long yearned for but also the realization that the unwavering effort I had invested was working. My heart raced as I confronted an overwhelming mixture of surprise, validation, and doubt.

Since my graduation from the Setnor School of Music five years ago, a persistent companion has been imposter syndrome. The relentless question haunts me: am I truly a musician? In response, I kept daily practice routines, maintained an online presence, continued taking lessons, and immersed myself in various musical ensembles. I even ventured into leadership roles and community service, yet the gnawing question persisted – was it enough to claim the title "musician"?

While it took me time to vocalize my identity as a musician, especially having pursued Arts Management, I now embrace it with pride. I recognize the importance of acknowledging one's own worth, a realization that surged as I stood among the winners of a national competition.

As a winner, I was invited to perform a prerecorded piece and engage in a live interview for the National Flute Association's virtual Fall series. The honor was monumental, prompting me to approach the task with intentionality.

Crafting Meaning and Representation

The journey of intentionality began with selecting the piece. 

I considered my aspirations:

• To gain recognition in the flute community.

• To amplify underrepresented voices.

• To infuse my passion for ethnomusicology.

• To leverage my arts administration background.

• To diversify creative outputs.

• To foster collaborations.

In my pursuit of a piece, I delved into research. The National Flute Association's invitation welcomed autonomy in selection – a canvas to paint my narrative, limited only by time duration. Like a trip to a grocery store, the sheer variety of options could be overwhelming. However, I discovered that within this vast array of compositions lay a beauty: the freedom to choose. 

Guided by a determination to uplift oppressed voices, my exploration led me to the databases curated by individuals like Savannah Rose Ridley and Katrin Szamatulski, alongside organizations such as No Broken Links and the Institute for Composer Diversity, which brought me to composers who have faced marginalization within the realm of classical and contemporary music. These composers, their works often overshadowed by mainstream conventions, hailed from communities perpetually battling the confines of tradition. The institutionalization of music education, the codification of canonical compositions, and the prevalence of Western ideals – such as white supremacy, ableism, colonization, and male dominance – have obscured their voices. Yet, in these databases, their stories, harmonies, and narratives were waiting to be discovered and celebrated.