This week we were paid a visit by a serious Opera Kween, Teiya Kasahara (they/he), creator and star of their one-human show, “The Queen in Me”. Teiya talked about their journey as a transgender singer, navigating the rocky shoals of an industry that has been reluctant to celebrate difference. Indeed, opera has remained hopelessly stuck in Genderland (from another of Teiya’s creations, Little Mis(s)gender), holding on to rigid notions of gender and role stereotypes. Fach- (literally: cubbyhole) -based, prescribed voice categories keep opera singers “in their lane” (even though some groundbreaking singers have defied those restrictions), unable to fully express their identities, their realities. There are very ingrained and static ideals about who sings what, with what voice (sound, timbre, weight), not to mention shape, size and skin colour of the person inhabiting the role.
Teiya spoke openly about the challenges personally, physically and vocally of being stuck in a box, and both challenged and encouraged our students to imagine a world in which they, as singers, can be their whole selves without apology. This is always my goal when guiding young singers, but Teiya’s call to arms added its own extra urgency. I had honestly never thought that seriously about there being any kind of activism in my continual cross-dressing throughout my operatic career; the travesti or trouser role is a long-established operatic (and even theatre) trope. But it occurred to me that an element of my personal identity always had a bit of androgyny in it. As an athlete and a part-time tomboy (who also liked to wear crinolines and spin around), I just always enjoyed the freedom of being able to inhabit a different body, a different physicality. I never thought that I was fooling anyone per se, but I certainly bought into the idea of performing gender in a real way and it was always my goal to convince the audience that I was someone other than who I was in Real Life. Depending on the role and the “maturity” or gravitas of the character, I often played, I think, with different sonorities in my voice as well. When I alluded to this, Teiya said, with a rueful laugh, that I was lucky. And I think I was.
One thing Teiya said that will stay with me is that they hope for a time when any singer can sing any role, in any key, in any guise, and be able to express their unique self. The personal cost of shoehorning yourself into a forced performance or version of yourself to conform to some sort of universal ideal is too great. They can be anyone they want to be on stage. I’ll buy that ticket.