Reparative Public Musicology: Empowering and Centering Community Knowledge Production through Counter-Storytelling Practice

Abstract

Recent scholarship contesting notions of “legitimate” knowledge in musicological discourse reveals the deeply ingrained and exclusionary structures of white supremacy in the discipline. Notably, musicologists Rachel Mundy and Matthew D. Morrison show how musicology's grounding in racist biological determinisms profoundly shapes the discipline and its membership and discourses.1 Music scholars Danielle Brown and William Cheng note how the discipline's epistemologically violent histories and practices inflict emotional and psychological harm upon music scholars of color and their research subjects.2 Many of these same scholars have made explicit calls to dismantle these problematic structures of knowledge production and the broader institutions that support them.I contend that public musicology has the potential to respond meaningfully to these epistemological issues; however, many of the field's initiatives inadequately seek to promote “the results of recent research and discovery in the field of musicology. . .”3 Accordingly, musicologists most frequently engage the public through pre-concert lectures, mainstream broadcasts, popular publications, social media platforms, and other public media. While these initiatives make music histories and theories more accessible, they do not address the knowledge production issues inherent in music studies. If public musicology is “an act of translating scholarship for non-academic audiences,” as musicologist Will Robin writes, how do we avoid transferring the harms of structural racism embedded in musicology onto the public?4 In other words, how can we build an equitable and ethical practice of public musicology when its foundation, the field of musicology, is demonstrably harmful to historically marginalized populations?Musicologist Naomi André frames public musicology's central concern of sharing “the accepted knowledge of specialists with a less informed audience” as a key reason why public musicology has yet to reach its full potential. Rather, she proposes a framework of “engaged musicology,” an ideological extension of public musicology that incorporates the perspectives of diverse publics into interpretations of musical works.5 Likewise, musicologist Bonnie Gordon notes that many initiatives fail to meaningfully address problems of inequity within the field, classrooms, and scholarship. To increase the impact of public musicology, she suggests that musicologists engage in community projects where they can forge effective and ethical relationships with the public.6 Both André and Gordon's thinking involves moving away from scholar-dominated presentations of preconstructed musicological knowledge and toward forming collaborative working relationships with the public.Following Cheng's work on care and ethics, I propose that we develop reparative public musicology agendas that focus on healing the field of musicology and “doing good” for the publics we engage.7 Drawing from Community-Based Qualitative Research and critical race methodologies, I demonstrate how counter-storytelling writing practices and community projects can challenge public musicology's epistemological issues by centering the voices and knowledge of people from historically marginalized communities. I place two contrasting narratives side by side: (1) a Black woman student's experience attending a traditional public musicology presentation, and (2) the same student's involvement in a community-based musicological counter-storytelling project. By presenting these stories, I comment on structural issues embedded in traditional public musicological practices, demonstrate the empowering potential of community-centered projects, and highlight ways in which scholars can rethink the politics of knowledge production in the field of public musicology.Community-Based Qualitative Research (CBQR) utilizes a collaborative approach that actively involves community members “in the process of creating knowledge and change.”8 In opposition to positivism, CBQR uses an interpretive framework that recognizes multiple perspectives and values experiential knowledge. Public musicology's attempts to produce easily digestible material occasionally results in public works that present narrow perspectives and problematic musicological truths.9 Conversely, each CBQR project is uniquely developed in response to the community's particular needs and designed to promote dialogue and shared authority among researchers and community members. This methodology produces outcomes meaningful to communities, making it a valuable grounding for a reparative agenda.CBQR builds upon two theoretical frameworks that are particularly relevant to public musicology: praxis and communities as intellectual spaces. Praxis involves turning theory into action and serves as a “critical and collective inquiry, reflection and action focused on ‘reading’ and speaking back to the reality of the world.”10 Thus, critical praxis requires not just identifying problems but actively addressing inequitable social conditions. For many CBQR researchers, this includes creating remedies for social issues in collaboration with community members. Additionally, CBQR draws from the “community as intellectual space” concept, which recognizes the community's ability to participate in critical inquiry and solve issues impacting their lives.11 This model encourages scholars to think about community knowledge in nuanced ways to avoid depicting and interacting with diverse publics monolithically. Using these theories, public musicologists can design outreach efforts that enable learning through engaged participation and meaningfully address complex musicological and real-world issues with the public.CBQR draws from critical race theory (CRT), which exposes how dominant ideologies of colorblindness, neutrality, objectivity, and meritocracy protect and perpetuate white dominance and self-interest.12 Key to confronting these master narratives is counter-storytelling, an interdisciplinary methodology employed to challenge hegemonic narratives referred to as majoritarian stories, or the “bundle of presuppositions, preconceived wisdoms and shared cultural understandings” that make the relationship between dominant and subordinated groups seem natural.13 Like many canonical music histories, these stories depict white, male, heterosexual, middle- and upper-class experiences as normative. In contrast, a counterstory is a narrative composed in an autobiographical, biographical, or composite genre that centers the experiences of marginalized individuals to “cast doubt on the validity of assumptions and myths, especially held by those in power.”14 Counter-storytellers acknowledge the experiential and embodied knowledge of marginalized groups as legitimate and crucial to understanding how racism is often obscured by the “rhetoric of normalized structural values and practices.”15The stories below depict how Black women often experience multiple forms of epistemological harm during traditional public musicology presentations and the empowering potential of a community-based, counter-storytelling project. The Black woman-centric narratives connect to recent anti-Black racism discussions in musicology and allow me to draw on my “cultural intuition” as a Black woman in academia.16 Using a composite narrative approach, I combine multiple data sources—including personal experiences, scholarly research, historical accounts, and current events—into a singular narrative that places characters within specific “social, historical, and political situations that allow dialogue to speak to the research findings and creatively challenge racism and other forms of subordination.”17 I adopt Richard Delgado and Aja Y. Martinez's “stock vs. counterstory” method of placing two stories about similar events side by side to develop interactions between characters that articulate various viewpoints about social issues.18 According to Delgado, stock stories highlight dominant group narratives and how they are deployed to establish a shared sense of reality and reinforce racial hierarchies. Counterstories are then used to critique these issues while offering the reader alternative perspectives to consider.Drawing from Black feminist theory, I highlight the intersectional epistemological issues that Black women face in educational contexts. Furthermore, I incorporate personal experiences of institutional racism I have encountered and merge them with the experiences of other Black scholars who have expressed issues of marginalization in music academia. Combined with CRT scholarship, these personal accounts raise awareness of the transhistorical racial injustices in the academy through the reflection of lived experiences. Open-ended interview data collected from organizers of the Community Musicology Class and Research Group (CM&RG) in Orange, New Jersey, combined with CBQR theoretical principles inform the community-based project design.19 These composited sources enable the critical examination of theoretical concepts, humanize empirical data, and inform the narratives and characters in each story. I invite readers to reflect on their own identities, experiences, and actions through the critical and creative narratives.It's finals week and everyone's on edge. My roommate's about to inject caffeine straight into her veins, professors are in a grading frenzy, and my advisor keeps hounding me about choosing a major. I love college, but I don't know what to do with the rest of my life. Ugh! All I know is that I wish I got more work done on my Race, Class, and Gender in the Media paper, but I couldn't stop thinking about Jameel Thomas. Why'd they have to shoot him ten times? By the look of this campus, you wouldn't know that another Black man was murdered by the police last night just a few miles away from campus. Everyone's focused on finishing their finals, going home, and enjoying winter break. How do they continue to remain unbothered by all of the pain and trauma surrounding this university?Upon entering the library, my Music in Context professor, Dr. Adrienne Jeudy greets me. “I'm glad you made it, Domonique.” She smiles and says, “Dr. Penning's talk might give you some ideas about your local underground hip-hop paper.”“Thanks for letting me know about it, Dr. Jeudy,” I respond, “I'm looking forward to this presentation, especially considering the ongoing Jameel Thomas protests in Camden right around the corner from campus.”“It's been on my mind all day,” she sighs. “Are you okay?” I nod, but I'm not.Over her shoulder, I see a tall, white man with salt and pepper hair connecting his computer to a podium. “That's Dr. Penning. You should tell him about your paper after the talk. Come find me and I'll introduce you two,” she encourages.“I will. Thanks again,” I reply.I sit down between an elderly couple and another student from my class who is scrolling through TikTok. Aside from Dr. Jeudy, I'm the only Black person in the room, but that's pretty normal here. A few minutes later, she walks up to the podium and speaks, “Welcome! My name is Dr. Jeudy. I'm an Assistant Professor of Musicology and Chair of the Diversity and Equity Committee in the Belton University Music Department. We're pleased to have Dr. Christopher Penning join our Race, Class, and Ethnicity in Musicology public lecture series. Dr. Penning is a distinguished hip-hop music scholar who has earned top prizes in musicology and regularly publishes work with The New York Times, Medium, and Musicology Now. Today, he's presenting his research entitled, ‘Bounce, Bounce: Rhyme and Rhythm in 1990s Camden Bass Music.’ Please give him a warm round of applause.”The audience claps enthusiastically as he clears his throat. “Thank you for the flattering introduction. I'm looking forward to sharing this work.” He continues, “Today we'll talk about rhythmic complexity in contemporary Camden Bass, an underground hip-hop subgenre prominent in Camden, New Jersey. My main goal is to present this music in an accessible and engaging way.”Dr. Penning starts explaining the music's origins and research design, but I can't stop thinking about finals, getting in touch with my advisor, and traveling home. Bass-heavy beats draw my attention back to Dr. Penning's analysis of the music. He describes the individual rhythmic layers then has half of the room clap rhythmic groupings of three and the other simultaneously clap groupings of four.“You guys are sharp! I teach music majors who still can't play polyrhythms,” he commends. “Now that you have the rhythmic feel, let's continue our analysis.”The next few slides feature pictures of DJs and music producers. He explains, “This is DJ Too Nyce. What's fascinating about his beats is his emphasis on harmonic rhythm, which is . . . ”He looks just like Jameel. I wonder if the officers involved were charged . . . Ah, focus! But next thing I know, a slide with Dr. Penning's contact information appears. He concludes, “This is perhaps the most musical hip-hop ever produced. The rhythmic complexity, especially, in Camden Bass represents a musical evolution taking place right before our eyes and provides us with new ways of understanding the role of rhythm in hip-hop music.20 Thank you for listening to me ramble on. Please enjoy the handout I prepared with additional resources.”I scan the neatly formatted handout filled with links to YouTube playlists, his blog, and recommended reading material. Curious, I look up a few of the books on the list. Are there no Black hip-hop scholars? The voice of the older woman sitting next to me grabs my attention. She comments, “Thank you Dr. Penning, your presentation was enlightening. Hip-hop is just so violent and misogynistic; I don't know how you listen to all those songs! Nevertheless, I'm amazed by its complexity, it's quite similar to the complexity and nuance of classical music. I wonder if you think they're similar too.”“Yes! Hip-hop is often thought of as this repetitive and simplistic genre, but there are complex layers that make it just as worthy of study as Bach and Beethoven. I hope that by continuing to highlight these complexities, we can move beyond hip-hop's mundane and off-putting qualities in our discussions of the genre,” Dr. Penning responds.Next, a young man in a backwards baseball cap asks, “What got you, uh, interested in this music?”Dr. Penning chuckles, “You wouldn't think that I'd be studying this subject. I'm surprised myself, especially considering I wrote a dissertation on Franz Liszt, but after I earned my doctorate, I thought it would be fun to expand my studies outside Western art music and eventually found myself studying more and more African diasporic music. I was actually doing research on jazz music when I came across a Camden Bass YouTube playlist. I found the music to be so fascinating and was hooked immediately!”I raise my hand and ask, “Do any women produce this music? I noticed that all of the songs were made by men.”“Interestingly, none of the scene participants I interviewed mentioned any female music producers, and none of the music playlists I analyzed featured music by women. But unfortunately, that's the sad truth about hip-hop, it's still a male-dominated genre. It's really a shame that there's no female representation in this scene. Personally, I'd like to see more women step up and get involved,” he answers.No women, really? I highly doubt that, but who am I to go against a distinguished professor of music?“The absence of women in this scene is startling to me. Have you looked into the recent studies that challenge traditional discourses of Black male authenticity and dominance in hip-hop?” Dr. Jeudy questions.“Well, for the sake of specificity and feasibility, I focused exclusively on the rhythmic elements, but perhaps I will consider some of that research in the future,” he responds unenthusiastically.Dr. Jeudy's frustration is evident, but she doesn't push the issue. I bet she's backing down to avoid being labeled as an “angry Black woman,” especially since she's up for tenure this year. She smiles at me tightly before addressing the rest of the audience. “That's all the time we have. Thank you again for your presentation; let's give him another round of applause.”The audience claps and quickly disperses. Honestly, I don't feel like speaking to him anymore. I wanted to ask him about the current demonstration in Camden during the Q&A, but he only seems to care about the music. As I exit the library, a notification flashes across my phone screen reading: PROTESTS ERUPT IN VIOLENCE AFTER JAMEEL BROWN KILLING. Predictable, but nevertheless devastating. . .“Dom, stop pacing, you're making me nervous,” says Jayla Mills, a high school student from Camden I met working on the project. “You got this, girl!”If anything, I'm more excited than nervous. I stop and smile at the other members of the “Flip the Script” Musicological Counter-Storytelling Collective. We've worked hard over the past four months, and now we're presenting our work to a public audience. At our first meeting, Dr. Penning explained, “Musicologists often conduct research, then present their findings to a captive audience. But I don't want to present a bunch of predigested ‘musicological truths.’ Instead, let's produce knowledge together.”I remember looking around the room, and it was one of the few times I saw diverse representation at Belton. Dr. Jeudy continued, “Musicology has many systemic issues that have led to the exclusion and misrepresentation of marginalized groups in music history. Let's unpack these issues and then explore different ways to think about music.”Together, we read articles written by scholars Matthew D. Morrison, Tamara Levitz, and Philip Ewell. I shared my shock and frustration over musicology's histories of exclusion and white supremacy with the rest of the group. After, Dr. Jeudy led a discussion about interdisciplinary research methods that expanded traditional musicological analysis, including critical race theory, Black feminist theory, and performance studies. Then, Dr. Penning presented his preliminary research on rhythmic complexity in Camden Bass music. He concluded his presentation by stating, “I want to transform this into a dynamic project that benefits us as individuals, a collective, and broader society. Any thoughts on how to move forward?”The group agreed that his research lacked a human element and connection to real-world issues. I offered, “In Dr. Jeudy's class, she asks what happens when music happens as a way of connecting music to broader social issues. Perhaps we can ask the question: what happens when Camden Bass music happens?”21Dr. Jeudy followed by saying, “Yes, why don't we think about that question, and each come back next time with some ideas of potential topics and research approaches.”When we regrouped, we had a ton of different ideas! The older couple, Jane and Marvin, proposed a social photography project; a coding major named Dylan mentioned that he could create an interactive map detailing key music-making spaces; and Jayla suggested investigating the underrepresentation of women in the scene. When I mentioned the history of police brutality in Camden, Marvin brought up how the 1969 and 1971 Camden race riots drastically reshaped the socioeconomic structure of the city. Over the next few months, we presented our ideas to each other, engaged in dialogue, read the work of diverse scholars and journalists, and collaborated with members of the Camden Bass scene. Overall, it was a lot of hard work, but completely rewarding. “Let's go!” Jayla shouts, pushing me toward the front of the room. We line up with the rest of the collective and wait for the audience to quiet. Dr. Penning speaks first, “Welcome and thank you for joining us. My name is Dr. Penning and standing next to me is Dr. Jeudy. Together, we secured a grant for a community-based research group focused on challenging and transforming traditional public musicology initiatives. Before we begin, I'd like to introduce the rest of the ‘Flip the Script’ members.”He introduces us individually as well as the project participants who couldn't attend. “This diverse group of students, community members, and scholars has been a pleasure to work with, and this project would not exist without their contributions.” He continues, “I must say, I've learned more working with this brilliant group than in my ten-plus years of academic research.”Dr. Jeudy then explains the purpose of the counter-storytelling project. “According to scholar Aja Y. Martinez, counter-storytelling ‘is a method of telling stories by people whose experiences are not often told.’22 We wanted to highlight the underrepresented and untold stories of Camden Bass hip-hop music, AKA flip the script! Please note that we won't present a neat and tidy narrative; this project is messy, and it has many open ends.”We spend the next two hours sharing our findings. Dr. Penning and three local Camden Bass music producers break down the musical elements of the subgenre through a live DJ set. “From this collaborative effort, we found that the complex rhythms of Camden Bass reflect how music producers and DJs navigate the legacies of racial unrest and systemic racism in the city,” summarizes Dr. Penning.Jane and Marvin follow up with vibrant pictures of Camden Bass dancers. Jane explains, “My husband and I enjoyed reading Thomas Turino's Music as Social Life. We saw a direct connection to his concept of moving and sounding in synchrony as a form of community building among these dancers.”They conclude, signaling for Jayla and me to begin. “DJs La Lady, Roxy J, and Ella Ice are the fierce founders of Camden Bass who hardly get the recognition they deserve. In general, Black women play an essential role in the scene, but the men receive all of the credit,” I explain.“And that's weak,” Jayla interjects.I continue, “Dr. Jeudy introduced us to the work of Drs. Tricia Rose, Kyra Gaunt, and Cheryl Keyes, who all did groundbreaking research that shows Black women's often marginalized and misrepresented hip-hop contributions.”Dr. Jeudy walks up to the stage as we wrap up our presentation. She concludes, “Through this project, we sought to challenge traditional monolithic depictions of underground hip-hop scenes. Our collaborative efforts helped us better understand these musical practices as sonic representations of a city still dealing with the aftermath of the 1969 and 1971 race riots.”Dr. Penning follows up, “We only have a few more minutes, any questions?”A high school student raises their hand and asks, “Group projects are usually awful, but this seems pretty awesome. How would you describe this experience?”We look at each other to see who wants to answer. I decide to step up. “Not a fan of group projects myself, but this was different. Everyone had an equal opportunity to contribute their knowledge and skills. Dr. Jeudy introduced us to a wide range of theories and methods but made it clear that we didn't have to follow a strict model or pre-existing way of thinking. If anything, she pushed us to challenge conventions.”Then, a young man in the back of the room asks, “What's next?”DJ Too Nyce answers, “Well, Penning and I are cookin’ up a grant proposal to help fund an annual Camden Bass music festival and writing a book about the scene. Dom just published an article in the campus newspaper, so y'all should check that out. I think Dr. Jeudy is designing a new class, right?”“Yes, I'm designing a musicological counter-storytelling class and working with Jayla and DJ Roxy J on a research article about Black feminisms in underground hip-hop,” she replies.“I'm gonna be published, y'all!” exclaims Jayla.Dr. Penning somberly says, “We learned of Jameel Thomas's murder last night and plan to donate our project materials to the Camden Public Library in his name. Next semester, we're going to work with Camden activists and adopt a more social justice-oriented agenda.”After the final applause, most of the collective members stay to talk with one another and to the audience. I'd stick around, but I have to submit my journalism major declaration application before the deadline. Dr. Jeudy suggested that I look into pursuing a journalism degree after I expressed how much I loved interviewing the DJs and reading the work of Black writers. I was particularly inspired by Nelson George's Hip Hop America and Tricia Rose's Black Noise. I never thought about combining my passion for music and writing until I read those books.I get back to my dorm and review my application for the last time before hitting submit. Suddenly, the day catches up with me. I still have a lot to do before the semester ends, but tonight I can rest a bit easier knowing that, together, we made a difference.The stock story explores issues of voice, authority, and ideology in public academic practice that perpetuate white supremacy and silence the experiences of marginalized people. The main character, Domonique, was repeatedly harmed by Dr. Penning's hegemonic discourses, which problematically reframed marginalized experiences. Dr. Penning and the older woman's interactions, especially, reveal several ways public musicologists uphold problematic and harmful beliefs. By not countering the musical majoritarian stories stated by the woman, he reinforces the hierarchical structuring of music history around the notion of “German Greatness.” Specifically, he defines Camden hip-hop's value in the context of Bach and Beethoven instead of on its own terms. He also failed to redress the woman's offhanded assertion about violence and misogyny in hip-hop. His inaction reinforces her narrow views about hip-hop culture and perpetuates harmful stereotypes that depict Black people as pathologized, social ills. As illustrated in the counterstory, public musicology events can be effective spaces to challenge problematic assumptions. Instead, he provided a simplistic, reaffirming response to a multifaceted issue, missing an opportunity to correct a deeply ingrained “truth.”Dr. Penning's absolute claim to Domonique about hip-hop being a male-dominant genre demonstrates how public musicologists may take racial and gender exclusion for granted. By uncritically stating that the scene does not have female representation, he is engaging in the erasure of women of color. Domonique questioned this problematic narrative but felt uncomfortable with the power dynamic between her (the public) and him (the scholar), making her question the value of her knowledge in light of his academic authority and the hegemonic ideologies he disseminated. Dr. Jeudy also pushed back on this undiscerning remark; however, sensing his defensiveness and knowing her vulnerable position in the academy, she abandoned the issue. In this case, Domonique is witnessing her mentor, the only other Black person in the space, being minimized. This instance shows the dilemma of Black women's marginal positioning as “outsiders within” academia, where access to oppressive spaces provokes feelings of alienation, isolation, and marginalization.23Dr. Penning's framing of Camden Bass music bears little resemblance to the actual experiences and depth of the scene. As an authority figure, he has the power and privilege to assign greater or lesser significance to cultural practices and render subjects invisible. For instance, he praised the complexity of the Camden Bass cultural products while minimizing the people who produced it. By doing so, he communicated to the audience that only the complexities of the music are worthy of study. These unequal power dynamics produce and reinforce narratives that contain what anthropologist Michel-Rolph Trouillot calls “bundles of silences,” which influence how history is constructed and how historical significance is established.24 Silencing also occurs through his lack of citation of works by Black scholars. Delgado argues that the politics of citation shape and legitimize disciplinary knowledge, the career trajectories of scholars, and membership in the field.25 By omitting the voices and scholarship of marginalized and minoritized academics, he further perpetuates racial and cultural hegemony in the field of music studies and in the public's collective memory.While Dr. Penning fulfilled his goal of explaining complex music theories in an accessible manner, what was the larger impact of his work? For Domonique, the presentation seemed to do more harm than good by minimizing her experiences and presenting reductive narratives of Black people. Furthermore, Domonique was stunned that a scholar doing work in a community currently in crisis was silent about the issue, making Dr. Penning just one of the many people in Domonique's academic life who are oblivious to the everyday experiences of marginalized people. Dr. Penning, the beneficiary of this scenario, gained credit and prestige despite his affirmation and perpetuation of white supremacy. Moving forward, Dr. Penning will likely continue to curate and disseminate mainstream narratives about this music genre, determining its significance for captive public audiences without consequence.The counterstory reflects Cheng's emphasis on reparative scholarly practice over “good sounding” musicology. Together, Dr. Penning and Dr. Jeudy drew from the community's strengths and centered their voices in a manner that reframed problematic musical narratives, sounded silenced histories, and affirmed the humanity of marginalized subjects. This project does what Danielle Brown suggests for achieving equity in an unjust system: it puts people of color at the forefront of telling their own stories.26 Dr. Jeudy and Penning had meaningful intellectual exchanges with community members in which the public shared their experiential knowledge and diverse individuals oversaw specific project elements. Decisions were made through a consensus model in which all members had opportunities to voice their opinions. Community members like Domonique used their real-life concerns about police brutality and Black female marginalization to inform the project and connect it to broader sociocultural concerns, such as the legacy of the Camden riots.The “Flip the Script” group regarded the community as an intellectual space that challenged the trained scholars’ tendencies to center whiteness and canons of “musicological truths.” It is important that the community could intervene in the research process; as Cheng notes, “scholarship qualifies as publicly salient only if it accommodates critiques by the public.”27 When different opinions arose from the community members, their distinct perspectives were used to highlight the complexities of specific issues related to the local music scene. Comparing this approach of valuing the community's ability to produce knowledge to the opposite scenario featured in the stock story, we can see that this type of intervention was necessary. Namely, Dr. Penning's original analysis bore little resemblance to the actual experiences in the Camden Bass music scene and his narrative only served to reinforce the white racial framing of musicology. Instead, the community-based project moved “legitimate knowledge” production outside the confines of academia and framed the public as equally valuable knowledge producers.The collective's research efforts will make a lasting difference in the city of Camden as well as in musicological discourse. We can also see how individual growth and fulfilment was achieved. Notably, Domonique gained a greater sense of purpose through her work, leading her to declare a major. She was personally empowered through her readings of Black scholars, working closely with Dr. Jeudy, and having a role in making silenced histories and people visible. Each group member also benefited from the project by receiving recognition for their contributions. In this story, the public is walking away with more than just facts; they are leaving with a range of accomplishments, a greater sense of purpose, and the potential for continuing projects and connections.Through counter-storytelling, I offer a critical reflection of the lived experiences of marginalized groups and encourage readers to “look to the bottom” of racialized hierarchies and ideologies in musicological discourse.28 Musicology, and by extension public musicology, remains a white-dominated discipline with highly racialized patterns of access, resources, and recognition. As demonstrated in the stories, public musicology has the potential to redress these unjust structures of power by making public musicological research and practice more reparative and reflexive. This requires that we stop treating the public as captive monolithic entities and reflect continuously on the consequences of our knowledge production and dissemination practices. Counter-storytelling writing and community-based projects, in particular, provide useful sets of theoretical and methodological tools to expose, analyze, and challenge the invisibility and persistence of racism in musicological theory and practice. Through these methods, we can reimagine musicological research spaces, processes, and products and work toward building equitable, ethical, and meaningful practices of engagement with diverse publics.