Today is Tuesday, January 28th, and in this fourth episode I’d like to share with you some reflections on the meaning of wearing — or not wearing — a white coat when I do music therapy.
Whatever your own “stylistic position” may be, have you ever thought about the reasons behind your choice?
What are the reasons that give meaning to your decision?
Without wanting to go into the details of your reasons — which, according to the official statute of light-heartedness, I am certainly not here to judge — I’ll simply share mine.
And, of course, they are and remain “right” only for me.
Having said that, let’s get to the heart of the matter.
Uniforms, robes, cassocks, white coats, aprons and overalls have always been worn by different categories of professionals, for various purposes, sometimes even opposite ones.
The very idea of a uniform can take us in two quite different directions.
Let’s start with the idea of making people “uniform”.
Some of you will certainly remember that, many years ago, schoolchildren in primary schools used to wear an apron. The rationale behind this was to make all pupils look the same, eliminating, in one single gesture, all the visible differences in social class and status that could be seen through clothing.
In one word: everyone equal, thanks to the apron.
The opposite meaning emerges when we think of a uniform as something that distinguishes us from others.
A uniform allows us to experience belonging to a team.
It is a way of saying: “We are with these people.”
Thanks to a uniform, we are easy to recognise.
People immediately understand who we are, where we belong, and, not least, the “powers” we inherit by wearing that particular item of clothing.
I am thinking of the judge’s robe, the priest’s cassock, the doctor’s white coat, and so on.
But beyond the possibility of either blending in or standing out...
I may also wear an apron — imagine a teacher or a carpenter — or overalls — imagine a mechanic — to protect myself from dust and dirt.
So I wear something with the aim of protecting myself from elements or factors that could potentially make me dirty or infect me: the doctor’s white coat, gloves, a mask.
Or I wear something to protect myself from injury: safety shoes, a helmet, protective masks, goggles, and so on.
Another possibility is that I wear protective clothing in order to protect the other person, to make sure that I do not become an involuntary carrier of pathogens.
This is the case, for example, when working with people who are severely immunocompromised. In that situation, one may wear a light gown over one’s clothes, gloves, a mask, shoe covers, and so on.
So let’s go back to the question that gives this episode its title:
When I do music therapy, do I wear a white coat or not?
My answer is no.
I do not believe I need to protect myself, distinguish myself, or make myself recognisable by wearing a uniform.
I do not believe, I do not want, and I do not need to identify with the medical, psychological, or even less the psychotherapeutic category in order to feel that what I do has meaning and form.
When I work, I feel like a musician who “inhabits” clinical, healthcare, social, and educational contexts in order to activate moments of musicking.
Moments of sonic-musical participation.
Moments aimed — in agreement with the team — at wellbeing and at the fullest realisation of the human being I encounter in music.
There is one exception to this position of mine: when I have to enter a ward where people need to be protected from infectious agents because, as I said earlier, they are in a state of severe immunodepression.
I’ll close this episode with the saying: “The habit does not make the monk.”
It seems particularly appropriate for today’s topic.
The next episode will answer the question:
“Can you actually make a living doing music therapy?”
See you on Tuesday, February 4th!