Lisa Simpson got me started playing saxophone (you never know where inspiration will strike). In the end, I was too light-headed blowing a horn half my size, so I put it down. Years later, I picked up the guitar after hearing The Offspring. Delta blues and classic rock were my first loves, but when the time came to study music in school, like so many other students I was given only two choices: classical or jazz.

Countless musicians face this reality when deciding to study music formally. Academic institutions teach “Western Music,” an expansive term that still excludes many vibrant, ancient musical cultures of indigenous America, folk traditions, and regions of Africa located in the Western Hemisphere. Like many things associated with the so-called “Western World,” pundits who use the term are typically referring to European and colonial influences. I don’t blame them. After all, most of us lack exposure to cultures beyond our own. How can we be expected to include them if we don’t know the first thing about them?

Even within a nation, musical subcultures are compartmentalized, scarcely making contact with each other. Black musicians, for instance, were forbidden to perform in segregated venues well into the 1960s and beyond. Jazz and blues were known as, “the devil's music,” by religious extremists, associated with narcotics, and blamed for corrupting society. For 32 years, Henry Anslinger, the commissioner of the U.S. Treasury Department's Federal Bureau of Narcotics, shaped federal law, as well as public perception of drug culture, through consistent statements like, “Most [marijuana smokers] are Negroes, Hispanics, Filipinos, and entertainers. Their Satanic music, jazz and swing, result from marijuana usage. This marijuana causes white women to seek sexual relations with Negroes, entertainers and any others.”

Oftentimes, music that is considered sacred by one cultural group is viewed as savage by people who have no understanding of the cosmological perspectives that inspire them. But it isn't all black or white. Diverse cultures do exchange ideas. Jazz itself was born of African, Caribbean, European and indigenous traditions meeting in the American continent. For this very reason, jazz was shunned for decades by bigoted academic establishments and ‘high art’ critics.

When I studied the “History of Western Music” in school, we covered mostly dead European composers like Bach, Beethoven and others from the classical pantheon. Even my formal jazz history education stopped around 1970. These curricula completely ignored many of the most influential musicians of the last 100 years. What history of western music leaves out Stevie Wonder, Bob Marley, Led Zeppelin and countless other pioneering composers? It must be seen for what it is – an intentional omission. I understand there isn't time in a four-year curriculum to cover every musical tradition in the history of the world, but the homogenization of music education is widespread, with many schools taking cues from an orthodox model.

You don't know what you don't know, and you certainly can't teach what you don't know.

In the past, segregation and limitations on global travel prevented people from learning the traditions of their neighbors. We no longer have that excuse. Music from the Amazon jungle, a Polynesian island, or an Indian temple are all equally a click away on YouTube. It is our choice whether or not to familiarize ourselves with diverse influences.

Fortunately, some leading music conservatories are taking action on inclusivity. In my time at the Eastman School of Music, they offered a course in South Indian Carnatic music, taught by ethnomusicologist Rohan Krishnamurthy. The course was only possible thanks to the diversity he brought to the institution. In his own words: “By the time I got to Eastman...the assumption in my mind was, ‘I'm going to be a minority of one here. I'm not expecting to be immediately understood.” Rohan is unique in having undergone training in two fundamentally distinct systems - the western conservatory model, and the guru-disciple model of India. He describes the process:

“Professional performers of Indian classical music typically have one guru that they study with for many years, and that was not in an institutional context. It was common for serious performers to live with their guru. They would actually go to their house, they would become part of the family. They would learn music, but they would also be helping with chores, traveling with the teacher, going to all the shows, and be a personal assistant to the teacher. Then, you're also watching the teacher practice, watching how your teacher interacts with other artists - so you're getting this total immersion experience...the full master-apprenticeship system.”

This model is presented as a point of reference for how different ‘formal’ education can be. Modern institutions can adopt elements of this model. Simply teaching about the existence of other formats can widen a student's perspective. The Berklee College of Music provides accredited courses in everything from “Rock History” to “Game Design” for those interested in composing music for video games. But even in cases where alternative curriculums exist, the elitism of classical and jazz music persists. Ironically, pop culture is star-studded with young people who have little or no formal training in music theory, performance, or history from top universities.

Regardless of the academic world's modest expansion into digital music, popular and foreign culture, there’s a vacuum when it comes to inviting indigenous musicians to perform and teach. This is especially true in the field of music therapy. Traditional people have been using sound and music in various healing modalities for as long as we can tell, and they possess a sophisticated knowledge of healing with sound. Kawennontie of the Haudenosaunee people writes, “We have sacred songs for our medicine societies that contain ancient, living, and moving words for healing the spirit, mind, and body of illness. It's hard to tell you exactly what each song does, you need to feel it to believe it. When you use words to describe healing, it loses its vibration already to a certain degree. Words are powerful, yes, but the feeling is even more.”

The definition of music therapy established by the American Music Therapy Association is, “the clinical & evidence-based use of music interventions to accomplish individualized goals within a therapeutic relationship by a credentialed professional who has completed an approved music therapy program.” But this definition inherently excludes highly trained indigenous people from practicing music therapy in a clinical setting for lack of ‘approved credentials.’ Furthermore, according to the AMTA’s history of music therapy, “the 20th-century profession formally began after World War I.” However, this timeline completely ignores shamanic, indigenous, and other sound-based therapies which are both well-documented and ancient.

Science and spirituality need not conflict. They validate each other and are mutually beneficial for holistic healing. The Eastman Performing Arts Medicine initiative is a collaboration between the Eastman School of Music and the medical department of the University of Rochester. Their mission is, “to deliver the collaborative potential of the performing arts and medicine to the healthcare environment.” They are also raising awareness about musicians’ health on all levels. Program manager Gaelen McCormick acknowledges the benefits of interdisciplinary research: “We have a working group now that meets monthly that's been generating ideas - neuroscientists, music therapists...brain and cognitive science people. It's a group that's growing...sharing ideas, sharing funding sources.”

Music That Heals is a grant-funded organization founded by Kathy Lord Nicolosi, and it provides thousands of musical performances for hospice units, hospitals, children’s centers and other healthcare environments. In her own words, “What we help to provide is a type of music therapy, because we’re taking that word ‘therapy’ out of the context of what it means to be a music therapist when they’re certified.”

Tito La Rosa is a Grammy award-winning musician, a descendant of the Quechua people, and a widely acknowledged master of sound healing. He recently founded a school in Peru’s Sacred Valley. “Something fundamental in our tradition is mythological sound - sacred sound. Sound has its mother, and the mother of sound is silence. It is considered to be a cosmic portal, a portal that opens doors - capable of pinpointing different parts of your body and internal self. Sound is connected with transcendence, ancient memory, awakening, your roots, the cycles of life. But also, sound is linked with healing - with sacred songs. Sounds open the ceremonies, the rituals, the initiations. They serve to communicate with the sacred, with the divine, and to enter into profound states of consciousness.”

This is the crux of the issue: “music history,” “music theory,” “music therapy,” and other such labels are defined and codified by institutions according to their limited perspectives. Critics and educators attempt to define genres, pigeonholing musicians into a narrow window of what is considered ‘acceptable’ by the tradition. This can include instrumentation (such as piano, bass, and drums common to jazz), rhythm (such as swing), or any number of other stylistic aspects that typify a genre. By asserting themselves as authorities on these subjects, they establish clout in various social circles and industries. Meanwhile, legitimate and diverse voices are left out of the conversation (and the funding sources).

It is time to include marginalized voices. How? By actively inviting them to share music and knowledge in mainstream settings, and by genuinely seeking to learn from them in their traditional settings. Such a meaningful cultural exchange could bring about a musical renaissance as profound as the evolution of jazz in Congo Square, New Orleans.

McCormick is optimistic about the future of music and medicine, but she sees room to grow: “I would love to get away from the model of having to always justify everything with research, but because I'm working in an institution, and because I'm trying to tangle with insurance, I have to go through these forms that are already set up. So, ‘How do we widen the conversation?’ I think, is a really good question.”

This article is not intended to shame institutions or individuals for their willful or unintended exclusivity. Rather, it is an invitation to learn, connect, explore, and use privilege and preeminence to provide a platform for the overlooked brilliance of others. It’s an encouragement for all people to get curious about worldwide musical culture. You might discover something marvelous.