Tradition Will Tear Us Apart: Rainbow Academy and Censorship at BYU
More than four months ago, I attended the staged reading for a musical called Rainbow Academy. As a queer BYU student, I was shocked to learn that a project about queer experiences was greenlighted by university administration. It was no surprise when I learned that the reading would be held off-campus in a rental space. Peter Morgan, the man behind the musical, mentioned over email that there were some difficulties in dealing with BYU administration and that he would prefer to be interviewed after he received his diploma, just in case. This March, we finally talked. While Peter's story is singular in many ways, it fits well into the long and tragic tradition of queer censorship at BYU.
As a commercial music student, Peter was expected to create a capstone project to finish off his degree. He decided that he wanted to write, record, and produce Rainbow Academy to fulfill this requirement. Nearly four months after submitting his project proposal to incredulous professors, he woke up to a slew of emails and missed calls. Those same professors that read his proposal neglected to tell him a crucial fact: as a commercial music major, he wasn't allowed to use the Madsen Hall (one of the large auditoriums at BYU) for a staged reading, which he had reserved months prior.
Begrudgingly, Peter canceled his reservation and made another one for a smaller room on-campus. As the performance date neared, he began advertising. "I probably missed something they said," he later recounted, "But then my professors found out [about the reservation] and asked me, ‘We want to meet with you with the head of the School of Music.’" Confused and exhausted, Peter agreed to what became two long, grueling meetings over the following weeks. Peter encountered what seems to be a growing trend among faculty. Despite their best intentions, faculty play a huge role in censoring queer voices at BYU.
In Peter’s case, his advisors suggested he cut fifteen of the twenty-seven planned tracks. When he asked why, he found only empty excuses. They expressed that they felt the content of the musical would incite a riot, implying that queer stories are not only taboo but dangerous and even violent. As Peter left the first meeting, a professor he was recording with at the time pulled him aside and asked him to mute all of the vocal tracks and dialogue so the TAs wouldn't have to hear them. In Peter's words, "That was the last straw for me [...] You don't say that to any student in a recording studio – to just silence themselves.”
With the performance date only weeks away, he had to scramble to find an off-campus venue. To his credit, I couldn't tell how stressful things were for him at the time when I attended the reading. In the interview, he recounted: "I was editing music nonstop that entire week. And I had slept like a collective four hours the two nights before the concert. I don't even know how I did that, but I was just so depressed." Despite all odds, the reading was a smashing success. The performers were brilliant, Peter was magnetic and inspiring, and the evening ended in a long, standing ovation.
After graduating in December, Peter stayed in Provo to play Tevye in BYU's production of Fiddler on the Roof. Reflecting on his experiences, he found that many aspects of Fiddler felt familiar. Tradition is the core theme of the musical, and it ultimately tears Tevye's family apart. Applying this idea to his BYU professors, Peter remarked, "It doesn't always work when you're trying so hard, even if it's coming from a place of love. It can still tear you apart if you're not paying attention."
It wouldn't be right to cast Peter's advisors as some ensemble of malicious villains. They were likely acting in what they thought was Peter's best interest. Yet, they were still acting in fear. Fear of BYU administration. Fear of backlash. Real change is only made when we set our fears aside and courageously invest in hope and love for a better future. BYU could be so much more than it is right now. There is a question that we all need to ask ourselves: If it came down to it, would you choose tradition or love?