A seat at the table

Perhaps I was naïve. I was finally sitting on the adjudicator side of the table. I had attended the Eau Claire Jazz Festival as a high school, then worked and played the festival as a college student. I brought bands to the festival (one of my students even won a scholarship to Shell Lake for outstanding musicianship), and now I was working as an adjudicator/clinician. Surely this meant I had broken down some of the barriers that women face in the jazz world. I should note that I was the only woman adjudicator and we were a pasty white bunch. 

​And then it happened. About four bands into the day, (all 15 or so bands were directed by men) the other two adjudicators and I were approached by the band director. (Shout out to John and Harvey-they were a blast to work with and I learned a ton watching them work with bands and tag-teaming with them). The band director shook their hands, exchanged pleasantries, gave them the scores, and walked back to his band. Yep. I was completely ignored. I muttered "did that just happen??" I was in shock. I was pissed. I honestly could not understand how this person did not see me as an adjudicator. Who did he think I was? A student aid working at the festival? (I have a bit of youthfulness to me, but not THAT much.) Maybe he saw me as one of the festival managers (perhaps a bit higher up on the ladder.) But the fact that he did not even acknowledge had me without words. I will come back to how I dealt with this.
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​Sexism in jazz has long been an issue. I experienced it first hand at Eau Claire in Jazz 1. Never from the guys that I played with. There was mutual respect there. (shout out to all the guys in the 2001-2002 bands-you rock!) Eau Claire does have a history of fewer females in the bands, but that generally is a reflection of the larger jazz community. I  do remember playing at the Viennese Ball (a glorified prom for grown ups) wearing my red dress and playing bari, overhearing a listener refer to me as the "Title IX" of the group. I didn't understand that. I auditioned into the band. I worked my ass off to get into that band. I started out in Jazz 4 and worked my way up. I earned that seat at the table and I was invited to sit there. I worked hard and owned my hard work, despite nasty rumors that circled around about me and how I got into the band. (Keeping it classy, right?)I took lessons with Kathy Jensen (bari player extraordinaire, and spent some time touring with this guy Prince. You may have heard of him) the summer before jazz auditions to help me prepare and get me to a place where I could hang with jazz 1 ("hang" in the meaning of being able to hang musically) So to think that there were people out there that didn't know how hard I really worked to get that seat really was upsetting.  
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​When I was in high school there were a ton of girls in our jazz band. My senior year, the saxophone section was all girls. I auditioned and played second alto in the all-state jazz band. It's not like I haven't been around this music. My dad is a phenomenal jazz musician. He actually is basically a walking encyclopedia of jazz, with an emphasis on early jazz. He coached me early on in my saxophone playing years and I was transcribing solos as early as 7th grade. I loved jazz, it was my music. (Don't make this statement more problematic than it needs to be. I identified with this music, and understood it's history and my relation, or lack there of, to the people who originated the music. I call it mine because this was the music that got me through my teen years....) It spoke to me. I was that nerdy kid that was learning all the Cannonball and Hodges solos while everyone else was digging in on the Backstreet Boys. My dad, being the jazz guy that he is, saw this passion and introduced me to the band "Diva" and bought me a book about women jazz musicians. It was in that book that I read about Ingrid Jensen, who I would then later meet when she was a guest at the Eau Claire Jazz Festival and who asked why there weren't any women in the band, and told me to "get your ass in there." So I did. I want to think that I didn't work any harder than those other guys. I worked hard because I needed to get better because that was a kick ass band.  
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I loved jazz in high school. I loved playing jazz, I loved soloing....it was freeing. When I was registering for classes the summer before my freshman year at Eau Claire, I remember the advisor discouraging me from signing up for jazz band. I needed to get X amount of marching band and regular band credits, along with private lessons (another blog post that needs to be written about the lack of equity that jazz receives in teacher education prep...) I was heart broken and didn't know any better. So that summer I spent most of my time getting my classical chops into shape. When I got to school in the fall, I remember walking around the practice rooms and listening to the amazing saxophonists. I came from a small school where I was a big fish in a small pond and now I was a minnow in an ocean. It was incredibly intimidating. I didn't audition for jazz band that semester, but I did the spring semester. I was disappointed that I got into jazz 4, so I took the following fall off again. But I missed it to much and ended up getting into jazz 3, then jazz 2, then....jazz 1. The first woman in about 10 years to get in the band. I also co-directed Jazz 5 with a friend. That was a great experience for so many reasons. Eau Claire is a magical place. The school is all undergraduates, but we are provided so many opportunities to play. It also is a place that allows for growth-an obvious story for myself. 
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So, back to yesterday. I had multiple emotions and thoughts running through my brain from "what the actual fuck" to "those students deserve better than that" to "I have to prove myself." I needed to let these young and beautiful students, and especially the girls in this band that women CAN play music. I wanted to make sure these girls know that it is ok to be a girl and be smart, beautiful, strong, confident, and create jazz. So, I marched past that band director and got to work. I had about five minutes to do something with them. So we talked about the importance of articulations and the feel. Then I gave them listening homework over the weekend. Their charts were 'inspired' (for lack of a better word) by jazz standards. I told them to go home and listen to "So What," "Lil' Darlin," and "Sidewinder." Those kids had no idea who Miles Davis or Count Basie were, and definitely not Lee Morgan. We had a good time together in those five minutes. I want to think that they took something home from that experience with me. I hope that ALL the bands we worked with saw that men and women can work together, but that women ARE capable of doing this job and doing it well. 
 
​It's going to take some time for me to process this whole experience. I am not going to give this guy any excuses. Not today. Not in 2018. This is not a women's fight. This is not just a white woman's fight. This is fight for all women to be heard and recognized. It's not just in the jazz world either, but damn, it is frustrating to see this happening to educators. Men, we need you to speak out and get with us on this. We need men to program more composers of color, and more women in their programs for concert band and jazz band. IT DOES MATTER. 

​Moving forward I am going to be reading some other stories to help me process this and figure out what we do next. My friend and colleague, and all around badass, Erin Holmes and I are planning on how to open up a dialogue this summer during all-state camp. BTW-she is the first woman to hold the Jazz Chair for MMEA. Like I said, a total badass, mother of three, and high school band director. I found this today, from a young jazz musician studying at the New School. This story is not unique. The comments are mostly helpful and empowering. Other articles of note include this New York Times commentary that celebrates women jazz musicians of 2017. Our very own local radio station recently highlighted 20 women jazz musicians here in the Twin Cities. But these are not isolated issues. And the women who are celebrated in the Times article and the Current blog are not being celebrated because they are just women. It is because they are strong, fierce, musical, smart, and talented. Those words can describe just about anybody (if they put the work into it). However, we do have to work *that* much harder (even in 2018) to be recognized. We are at the table. ACKNOWLEDGE us at the table. Have a conversation with us. Do not be offended if we might have more experience or understanding than you. We can learn from each other. But again, it takes both sides.

​#timetostart