Music and Identity

For nine years, the Stavros Niarchos Foundation Cultural Center in Athens, Greece—in partnership with El Sistema Greece and New York’s Carnegie Hall—has presented works from The Lullaby Project, in which people with diverse experiences work with composers and songwriters to transform personal stories about relationships with children into original musical works.

If I could offer a travel tip to anyone lucky enough to visit another city or country, it would be this: reach out to a local El Sistema-inspired program, or a similar music for social change program, and visit it! Over the past two decades, I’ve had the privilege of visiting such programs across five continents, learning from colleagues who share a common mission while working in vastly different contexts.

During my spring break this year, a trip to the beautiful country of Hungary led me to connect with the wonderful team at Superar Budapest. What began as a simple visit quickly turned into something much more.

During the two magical years I spent in Jamaica as a child, my aunt would visit our house every Thursday evening after work. I remember our family spending dinnertime on orange pleather cushions, listening to broadcaster Leonie Forbes recite poetry on the radio as classical music played in the background. That dinner table is where I first fell in love with Beethoven’s 7th Symphony, and my family still talks about those Thursday nights we spent together.

Now, as Ravinia searches for inventive ways to reinvigorate interest in great musical works, those Thursday evenings come to mind.

Now, as Ravinia searches for inventive ways to reinvigorate interest in great musical works, those Thursday evenings come to mind.

Singing (really, any artistic act) is an act of vulnerability. Your voice is you—your breath, your body, your emotions, your story. When you sing, you offer all of that up; even after a lifetime of performing, I still feel that fear when I step on stage.

If performing can be scary for us educators, how much scarier must it be for teen students still discovering their identity—for whom “fitting in” can feel like the most important thing?

Post-Carnival, Brazil is showing no signs of slowing down in celebrating its rich musical and cultural diversity.

The world enjoys Maori culture through its vivid kapa haka (performances of song, dance, and chant) and the famous haka displayed at All Blacks rugby games. There are no piupiu, poi, or taiaha (traditional garments, food, or weapons) at Sistema Whangarei–Toi Akorangi, in New Zealand’s far north, and yet Maori principles are quietly, seamlessly woven through the fabric of our program. They create the foundations for endless possibility.

When the Rizoma Project launched in 2022 in São Tomé and Príncipe and Guinea-Bissau, I knew we were embarking on an ambitious journey. Our goal was clear: to establish social orchestras in communities with limited resources and significant social challenges.