Tatum Robertson is an African American female soprano from New Orleans, Louisiana. She shows up with an unwavering presence and speaks with the eloquence of a passionate artist. Armed with many years of musical experience, an impressive resume, and a clear set of politics, her accolades are beyond her 26 years. Like many Black Americans, Robertson’s voice was raised in the church. “I always wanted to be a singer”, she says, smiling. “An RnB singer. I didn’t grow up listening to classical music. Most African Americans don’t. We grow up with the liveliness and free expression of musicality in church choirs.” Recognising her talent and passion, her parents had her train with a voice coach from a young age. Dr Francis, her first singing teacher, was a Black woman — the only Black classical music teacher she’s ever trained with to this day. In stark contrast to her first experience, which she describes as “rare”, Robertson’s consecutive years of music study, first at a public music school, later at the renowned Juilliard School in New York City, were marked by difficulties. It was in high school that she first noticed how Black students were taught differently from white students in terms of diction and pronunciation, wrestling with prejudices about accents and intonation. “Opera is a tough career”, she says. “It becomes even tougher for anyone who is not blonde, white, and skinny.” 

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An overlooked history of Black excellence in classical music

Robertson follows in the footsteps of a long tradition of Black women pushing the boundaries of elitist, Eurocentric classical music culture. It started with Elizabeth Taylor Greenfield, a soprano singer who challenged the American music scene when she embarked on a national tour in 1851. She is known as America’s first Black pop star and the first Black person to sing at Buckingham Palace in 1854. Camilla Williams ensued, becoming the first African American to receive a regular contract with a major American opera company and perform a starring role at the Vienna State Opera. The legacy continues.

Speaking to Black classical music history at large, September 2021 saw Terence Blanchard’s “Fire Shut Up in My Bones” become the first piece of work by a Black composer to open at the Metropolitan Opera in New York in its then 138-year history. At a time when Black Lives Matter protests rocked the world, the esteemed opera house finally embarked on a long-overdue journey towards diversifying their exclusive ranks. Blending elements of jazz, blues, and gospel into “an opera in Jazz”, Blanchard’s piece was lauded by critics as “fresh, affecting work” and “in the running for the best American opera of the 21st century”.

“Fire Shut Up in My Bones” shifted the work of Black classical musicians further into the mainstream spotlight, elongating an already rich historical relationship between Blackness and opera. Despite this, it’s no secret that Black musical history and achievement often fail to detail this genre. “Americans don’t value classical music as much as Europeans do”, explains Robertson. “It is difficult to make it because the government doesn’t subsidise this art form.” Most people do not have the privilege to grow up visiting theatres and engaging with classical music. While pursuing her career, Robertson had to become an entrepreneur to make the art that she wanted to make. “I really just wanted to sing, and sing well”, she says. “But you have to do so much more to survive.”  

Emotion as a form of innovation

“I love opera for its ability to turn stories that matter into vibrant and moving sounds that affect everybody on a human level”, Robertson beams with passion. “These stories exist for a reason.” She tells of the magic of singing with an orchestra and creating the sonic worlds that express the complexity of the human condition and emotions. “I specialise in the heart-on-the-sleeve repertoire”, she smiles. “I like singing long and luscious lines.” She favours “art song”, which usually starts with a poem that encapsulates a specific feeling rather than a story or character. Robertson often prefers to play fictional characters because there are no colour lines pre-dictated onto them.

In the wake of the Black Lives Matter movement and institutions’ scramble to diversify their ranks, she has found herself caught up in empty gestures and insensitive approaches to overcoming racial barriers in the performing arts industry. “I had to turn down two roles because they wanted me to play someone that I’m not. Historical figures have an identity attached to them”, she says. “Opera is an extremely colonised artform with a lot of anti-Blackness and harmful narratives. When they ask me to play someone who’s historically darker than me, that’s revisionist.” Instead, Robertson wants to create performances that tell the diverse and intimate stories of Black people across the diaspora. She believes that nobody can adequately relay them besides Black creatives themselves. “There’s a lot of new opera out there that’s trying to tell the story of the black experience, but it’s not impactful or sensitive. I don’t only want Black people’s trauma. I want their experiences in naming themselves as vibrant, shy, flirty.” 

Robertson’s musical practice imagines narratives that give Black people the opportunity to be whoever they want to be, “outside of the confines of relating to whiteness, without having to please anyone, and without having to be an exaggerated version of themselves.” She has no illusions that big companies will give us the opportunity to explore these tales, which is why she believes in community above all else. “We need to divest and collaborate with each other”, she asserts. “If we want to change narratives and bring about changes in our lifetime, we have to take matters into our own hands. We have to lean on community.” 

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Continuing the conversation

Opera is a cultural and political force that holds an immense, transformative power to represent and even liberate. There is a uniquely magical resonance to seeing a Black singer on the impressive stage of an old opera house, filling the room with music that has been written for this shared, present moment. Black opera unearths suppressed truths in both performer and audience, provoking complex, if uncomfortable, emotions. 

For those who have not had the chance to explore the world of classical music, check out Black Opera Productions, a platform dedicated to celebrating the legendary Black American opera history. If you are interested in Robertson’s work in building musical communities, listen to her talk “Navigating Wellness: Black Singers in Colonialist Spaces“.