Americans for the Arts

When I finally pivoted into arts administration, inching my way closer toward being a full-time creative, I was a bit surprised to find how much the sector was struggling with issues of diversification. Over time, I suppose I had grown accustomed to an industry that had no issue tackling diversification head-on and I expected the arts, the champion of inclusion, would be the same way. I am fortunate enough to oversee two great projects at ArtsBoston which help to drive the change we desperately need in greater Boston’s arts sector. For the ArtsBoston Audience Lab, diversification (specifically audiences of color) began with a Theory of Change—a blueprint designed in collaboration with the ten participating organizations in the Lab. When organizations state that they want more “diversity” in their audiences, we ask them to think a step further.

As I look to my past to see what my task as an arts leader is for the future, I cannot help but think of cultural equity. Succession planning is creating a series of feeder groups up and down the entire leadership pipeline of an organization. While concern for senior leadership positions is what comes to mind, it is the intentional retention of key staff members and volunteers, coupled with sufficient and professional development, that the sector needs. By reading this week’s Blog Salon, you have witnessed evidence from change makers both seasoned and emerging—artists and administrators working across disciplines and sectors from all across the country. As a whole, these individuals are making waves and laying the foundation for cultural equity in their organizations, their communities, the field, and the nation.

There is generally a perception that the arts are a progressive, forward-thinking sector. The attention to racial equity by many arts and cultural institutions may contribute to this. However, in local, state, and federal arts agencies, we’re often bound to the policies and practices largely created and upheld by white people—and far from progressive. While working in the public sector for much of my arts administration career, I have been complicit in adhering to largely inequitable practices—especially when it comes to grant funding. And while my fellow public sector arts administrators and I get excited by moving the needle—even just a little—to make our policies and practices more equitable, we’re still not addressing the core structures that created these inequities in the first place. We focus our attention on moving the needle within these structures, but hasn’t history shown us that these structures don’t (and won’t) work to get us to a more equitable reality?

I am an artist by training, art historian by education, (former/on-hiatus) arts administrator by chance, creative placemaker by practice, and lifelong supporter of the arts by choice. And while most of my career has been in the arts, I’ve never been employed by an arts organization. Most of my life has also involved the arts. Aside from a failed attempt to be a ballerina when I was five, my childhood was defined by art classes and encouraging teachers. Despite having continuous opportunities to pursue artistic and creative interests, I never thought my hometown of Columbia, South Carolina, was a place to experience a diverse or growing arts and culture sector. I wanted to see more people in the arts who looked like me or had a story similar to mine. I also wanted to see the arts outside of purely arts spaces, to be less confined, and to be more accessible to the greater public. However, I had no idea what my career path in the arts would look like, only that I did not want to be a professional artist, nor work in a traditional museum or gallery after college.

I was born and raised in West Philadelphia. Yes … like the song. On the day I was born, my Nigerian pharmacist turned American accountant father, my US-born IRS specialist sometimes saleswoman mother, and my then-teenage and new to the US sister gave me names—a hospital-room nod to traditional Yoruba naming ceremonies. One of my many names, Abiola, roughly indicates a child that brings wealth and honor, and my parents always treated me as though I could. Growing up, I was in and out of braces and the hospital, stood out physically, and was top of the class. Elementary school was rough. Still, I saw every new encounter as a potential friendship and had an insatiable desire to learn and create—which my parents fostered. When I’d say as a child that I wanted to be a writer, dancer, artist, and veterinarian, they’d say “ok.” At school, I was whatever label peers landed on for the day, but in our home, I was a writer, sculptor, dancer, singer, researcher, and more.

According to a December 2018 report from the World Economic Forum, by 2020—next year!—half of the global workforce will be made up of millennials. Despite the growing number of upwardly mobile millennials, young people are often overlooked as candidates for board seats in arts (and other) organizations. Most organizations are hyper aware of creating a well-balanced board, representing increasingly diverse communities. While we continue to actively address (and we must) race and gender diversity, age diversity is rarely considered. Leaving potential young board members out can be detrimental to an arts organization. A young board member brings energy, creativity and a fresh perspective. They often have a greater sense of inclusion. They can act as a peer to a young staff or to young visitors and attendees. Young board members also have a very deep social influence and can use it to promote programming, ideas, and giving. In a small community, like Lynchburg, social chatter can quickly increase attendance and helps to keep our organization top of mind.