Three Interviews: Diverse Career Paths of Female-Identifying Professional Trombonists

by

Julia M. Broome-Robinson

A Research Paper Presented in Partial Fulfillment of the Requirements for the Degree

Doctor of Musical Arts

Approved November 2020 by the Graduate Supervisory Committee:

Brad Edwards, Chair

Deanna Swoboda Christopher Wells

ARIZONA STATE UNIVERSITY

December 2020

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ABSTRACT

The purpose of this document is to identify contemporary issues facing female-

identifying professional trombonists today. Interviews were conducted with three

prominent women in the international trombone community, including questions that

sought to foster discussion on the extent to which their experience as professional

trombonists was influenced by their gender. The topic of microaggressions emerged as

significant, as it became clear throughout the interview process that these women

experience microaggressions far more commonly than overt gender discrimination, as did

the topic of coping mechanisms. The interview questions also sparked discussions of

identity, self-motivation, and local cultural norms within the context of each woman’s

musical career.

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ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

Thank you to my committee: Dr. Brad Edwards, Dr. Deanna Swoboda, and Dr.

Christi Jay Wells. Thank you to Dr. Ed Powell, Dr. Robert Taylor, and Dr. Andrew

Glendening. Thank you to the wonderful, enthusiastic, passionate women who

participated in the interviews for this project: Emily White, Kirsten Warfield, and Jennifer

Wharton. Thank you to Allysa Hannawi, for challenging me to find the answers.

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TABLE OF CONTENTS

Page

PREFACE ............................................................................................................................ v

INTRODUCTION ............................................................................................................... 1

METHODOLOGY .............................................................................................................. 4

SELECTED SIMILAR RESOURCES ................................................................................ 7

INTERVIEWEE BIOS ...................................................................................................... 21

QUESTION 1: ................................................................................................................... 23 IF YOU HAD TO SUMMARIZE EVERYTHING YOU DO WITH A SINGLE ‘JOB TITLE,’ WHAT WOULD YOU CALL YOURSELF?

QUESTION 2: ................................................................................................................... 27 WHY DO YOU PLAY MUSIC? WHAT GETS YOU UP IN THE MORNING, OR, WHAT KEEPS YOU GOING THROUGH DIFFICULT OR STRESSFUL PERIODS? HAVE YOU EVER WANTED TO GIVE UP OR CHANGE CAREER PATHS? WHY DIDN’T YOU?

QUESTION 3: ................................................................................................................... 33 GIVE WHAT YOU’VE LEARNED IN YOUR CAREER, WHAT WOULD YOU DO DIFFERENTLY IF YOU COULD DO THINGS OVER? WHAT ADVICE WOULD YOU GIVE TO YOUR YOUNGER SELF?

QUESTION 4: ................................................................................................................... 38 TALK ABOUT HOW YOUR GENDER HAS INTERSECTED WITH YOUR MUSICAL CAREER, AT ANY STAGE. DOES A SPECIFIC SITUATION, DYNAMIC, INTERACTION, OPPORTUNITY OR OBSTACLE COME TO MIND?

QUESTION 5: ................................................................................................................... 44 HAVE YOU BEEN TREATED DIFFERENTLY FROM MALE COLLEAGUES OR COMPETITORS AT ANY POINT? HOW DID THIS IMPACT YOU?

QUESTION 6: ................................................................................................................... 49 WHAT ADVICE WOULD YOU OFFER TO YOUNG PLAYERS SEEKING A SUCCESSFUL CAREER IN MUSIC? HOW ABOUT YOUNG WOMEN SPECIFICALLY?

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Page

QUESTION 7: ................................................................................................................... 54 WHAT OPPORTUNITIES OR RESOURCES WOULD YOU LIKE TO SEE MADE AVAILABLE FOR FEMALE-IDENTIFYING TROMBONISTS? FOR EXAMPLE, WHAT DO YOU THINK ABOUT THE VALUE OF BLOGS, WEBSITES, OR PODCASTS? IS THERE ANYTHING ELSE THAT COMES TO MIND?

QUESTION 8: ................................................................................................................... 56 IS THERE ANYTHING ELSE YOU’D LIKE TO SHARE?

CONCLUSION ................................................................................................................. 60

REFERENCES .................................................................................................................. 62

APPENDIX

A. EMILY WHITE INTERVIEW TRANSCRIPT ..................................................... 65

B. KIRSTEN WARFIELD INTERVIEW TRANSCRIPT ......................................... 84

C. JENNIFER WHARTON INTERVIEW TRANSCRIPT ....................................... 99

D. IRB DOCUMENTATION ................................................................................... 110

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PREFACE

As a Graduate Teaching Assistant at the University of Redlands, and later as a

Sabbatical Substitute Trombone Instructor in the same program, I worked with a young

trombonist named Allysa. As a student, Allysa was a delight. She did the work that was

asked of her without complaint, she was curious about new music and new technical

ideas on the instrument, and exuded a genuine desire to please. She was reserved in her

playing and in her personality, and seemed to be under some level of familial pressure to

choose a practical career—music was a relatively unsupported path.

Despite the skepticism she encountered from her family, Allysa loved music, and

the trombone. She derived true joy from hearing professional players, often marveling at

the beauty of their sound. In our lessons, Allysa and I often talked about whether or not

she wanted to declare a music major. Her love for music and her desire to pursue it were

never in question—she just didn’t know what she would do with her degree. She didn’t

feel confident enough to pursue orchestral performance and wasn’t especially interested

in teaching, and despite my best efforts, I never had a good answer when she asked me

what she should do. I lacked the personal experience, and the knowledge, to help.

I’ve felt since then that I did Allysa a profound disservice as her teacher. This

document is my attempt to answer the questions I couldn’t answer at the time, both for

myself and for my future students.

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INTRODUCTION

Trombonists who choose to major in Music Performance during their

undergraduate studies are often shown two paths forward: orchestral performance and

university teaching. This document seeks to illuminate the diversity of career paths

currently available to professional trombonists by highlighting three specific women who

have chosen not to fit into either of those two expected versions of success. By

highlighting these women, this document provides female role models that can serve to

inspire and embolden young women trombonists to believe that it is possible to build a

successful career around their instrument on their own terms.

This document also addresses the issue of representation by offering a platform

that amplifies the voices of three contemporary professional women trombonists. Young

women trombonists can benefit from seeing themselves represented in the professional

world, as mentioned above. This document prioritizes lived experience over theoretical

analysis, and the interviewees over the interviewer; the hope is that this prioritization

makes this document a more relevant resource for young trombonists today.

In addition to detailing three creative trombone careers through interviews, this

document seeks to explore the emotional connections these women make with music, and

with their identity as trombonists, women, and working professionals today. Issues of

microaggressions, emotional and mental health, and coping mechanisms emerged within

the interviews1; each woman dealt with these issues differently, and those differences are

explored in this document. Unless historical associations were explicitly made by the

1 Psychological and sociological analysis of these various coping mechanisms and their

relationship to the professional music environment would be extremely illuminating. An opportunity for future research exists, but such analysis is outside of the scope of this document.

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interviewees, this document does not attempt to place these women and their stories into

the potential web of influence of historical brass-playing women.2 Rather, this document

centers the interviewee’s voices in the context of today, again seeking maximum

relevance for current and future undergraduate trombone students. I plan to use the

research done for this document as a jumping-off point for a future interview-style

podcast, to amplify the voices of underrepresented trombonists and offer increasingly

diverse role models.

Preparation for this document began with a review of existing literature, with a

sharp focus on papers that centered in-depth interviews with women musicians. Few

academic papers of that nature were discovered, and only one emerged for which brass

players were central: “Such unfeminine instruments”: Women brass musicians in

America before 1940, by tubist Joanna Ross Hersey. However, Hersey’s paper is not

interview-based. Two papers emerged that do utilize interviews with female professional

musicians; one paper, by Michele Burke Kirkdorffer, includes interviews with female

orchestral oboists, and the other, by Anna Escher, centers specifically on interviews with

female percussionists. These three academic papers are briefly summarized in the

‘Selected Similar Resources’ section.

Through the perspectives of the three individual women who were interviewed,

this document hopes to shed light on the experience of being a female trombonist in the

2 There are numerous accounts of pivotal women trombonists throughout history. Sally Placksin’s

American Women in Jazz: 1900 to the Present was written in 1982 and paved the way for future work about women in jazz; Sherrie Tucker’s book, Swing Shift, chronicles the history of “all-girl” bands during the 1940s through interviews with over 100 musicians; Vol. 34, No. 1 (Spring) of the Black Music Research Journal, published in 2014, features several excellent articles on jazz trombonist Melba Liston; Brenda Parkerson wrote and directed a documentary about Abbie Conant’s experience with the Munich Philharmonic, Alone Among Men.

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professional music world today. There are still young women trombonists who hesitate to

pursue careers centered on playing their instrument. The reasons for this hesitation are

certainly varied and individualized, but one concern this document seeks to address is a

lack of role models; there are still too few examples of women trombonists presented to

young players, and even fewer examples of women trombonists who have successfully

built careers outside of the orchestra or university worlds. Highlighting the three women

interviewed for this project is a first step towards bridging the gap between a young

trombonist and their belief that success is attainable.

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METHODOLOGY

Three women were chosen for this project: Emily White, Kirsten Warfield, and

Jennifer Wharton. These women were chosen based on a number of characteristics: all

three have harnessed their formal music education to craft diverse performance careers,

including multiple genres and performance contexts, and each represents a unique spin on

largely traditional paths. Emily White combines new music, early music, sackbut, voice,

and baroque violin in fascinating ways as a soloist and chamber musician, all while

teaching at multiple colleges and conservatories across her native country of England.

Kirsten Warfield transitioned from military musician—she was the first female member

of the United States Army Concert Band “Pershing’s Own”—to contemporary soloist and

rock-influenced songwriter/composer. Jennifer Wharton expanded her successful New

York City-based Broadway and jazz career with the release and subsequent tour of her

jazz fusion trombone quartet album, “Bonegasm.”

The questions asked in the interviews were developed with a number of goals in

mind, and are intentionally open-ended, focusing much more on the ‘why’ behind each

woman’s musical career, rather than the ‘what’ of her various accomplishments—this

allows the interviewees space and freedom to tell their own stories, in their own words.

Each woman was interviewed separately via video call, and responded to the following

questions:

1. If you had to summarize everything you do with music in a single “job title,”

what would you call yourself?

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Given the stated focus on diversity of performance careers, there was an interest in asking

these women to reflect on the work they do and attempt to craft an all-encompassing

definition of themselves—the expectation was that this would be a somewhat challenging

task and would spark thoughtful conversation.

2. Why do you play music? What gets you up in the morning, or, what keeps you

going through difficult or stressful periods? Have you ever wanted to give up

or change career paths? Why didn’t you?

This question addressed the emotional side of being a professional musician, in terms of

motivation, drive, and purpose.

3. Given what you’ve learned in your career, what would you do differently if

you could do things over? What advice would you give to your younger self?

This question asked the interviewees to reflect on the path they’d taken so far in their

careers. By offering advice to their younger selves, the interviewees were also offering

useful insight to young players.

4. Talk about how your gender has intersected with your musical career, at any

stage. Does a specific situation, dynamic, interaction, opportunity or obstacle

come to mind?

There was a hope that the interviewees would share experiences, observations, or

opinions that could enlighten young women hoping to pursue professional trombone

careers, and perhaps even broaden the perspectives of young trombonists of all genders.

5. Have you been treated differently from male colleagues or competitors at any

point? How did this impact you?

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This question followed up on the previous question, and also offered the interviewees a

chance to reflect on how their past experiences had effected them emotionally.

6. What advice would you offer to young players seeking a successful career in

music? How about young women specifically?

This question, while being another opportunity to offer insight to young musicians, was

also strategically placed to give the interviewees a break from more emotionally charged

subject matter.

7. What opportunities or resources would you like to see made available for

female-identifying trombonists? For example, what do you think about the

value of blogs, websites, or podcasts? Is there anything else that comes to

mind?

The hope for this question was to spark conversation about potential future resources and

to discuss strengths and weaknesses of those that currently exist.

8. Is there anything else you’d like to share?

This open-ended concluding question was an opportunity for the interviewees to

elaborate on any prior topics, or to discuss anything else that felt important to them.

The interviews were conducted in an informal manner, allowing for tangents and

deviations in the conversation. Complete interview transcripts, lightly edited for clarity,

can be found in Appendices A-C at the end of this document.

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SELECTED SIMILAR RESOURCES

This collection of resources is not an exhaustive list. The search for related

resources began by narrowing the focus to female-identifying trombonists, and was then

further narrowed to include only interview-based media. Resources that most closely

mirrored the intentions of this document—to provide a platform upon which the voices of

the interviewees could be amplified and centered—were the priority. Even within such a

narrow focus, the resources detailed here do not represent a comprehensive survey of

what is currently available.

DISSERTATIONS AND THESES Hersey, Joanna Ross. (2006). “Such unfeminine instruments”: Women brass musicians in America before 1940. (Proquest Document ID 304959825) [Doctoral thesis, Hartt School, University of Hartford]. Proquest Dissertations and Theses Global.

This paper discusses the history of women brass players in chamber music, large

ensemble, and solo performance contexts, focusing on the United States. The paper also

describes attitudes towards women brass players both historically and today, and

examines the assumption that women are biologically unable to play brass instruments at

the same level as men. While Hersey’s paper covers topics that are related to the content

of the interviews conducted in this document, it focuses on historical accounts of women

brass performers, mentioning the experiences of Abbie Conant, but also including E.

Ralphena Parsons3, Helen May Butler4, and many others. In her final chapter, Hersey

3 Parsons was a trombone soloist, active in the early 1900s. A review in the Akron Beacon Journal

from March of 1903 called her rendition of The Blue Bells of Scotland “cleverly rendered,” and said that “she showed herself to be a master of the trombone.” https://www.newspapers.com/clip/12527480/the-akron-beacon-journal/

4 Butler achieved success as a cornet soloist and conductor, and was active around the turn of the 20th century. She helmed a successful “ladies band” that toured America under several different names, and was referred to as “Miss Sousa Jr.” by some reviewers.

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describes the perceptions and experiences of women brass players in the twenty-first

century, noting the widely discussed issue of Abbie Conant’s discrimination lawsuit

against the Munich Philharmonic. Hersey also covers the issue of associations between

instruments and gender in the music classroom, noting that “several studies have shown

that by third grade, most students have a clear labeling system in place for instruments

and gender.”5 Hersey’s paper is a fascinating account of the unsung history of women

brass players; in contrast, this document aims to add to that history by centering the

voices of the chosen interviewees and allowing them to tell their own stories.

Kirkdorffer, Michele Burke. (2002). Trailblazers: American women orchestral oboists. (Proquest Document ID 304790136) [Doctoral dissertation, University of Cincinnati]. Proquest Dissertations Publishing.

This paper covers the history of women oboists from 1943 to present, including

the impact of women’s rights movements on women musicians in the twentieth century.

The paper also includes “a discussion and comparison of experiences” of thirteen

American women orchestral oboists, based on interviews conducted by the paper’s

author. The paper includes transcriptions of the interviews in an appendix.

In her summary of the interviews, Kirkdorffer noted that all of her interview

subjects had experienced gender discrimination in one way or another. She quotes various

accounts of inappropriate comments made by male colleagues and conductors, and even

touches on the “cultural expectation that women who were pregnant or had children

could not continue with a career.”6 Kirkdorffer also states that she felt her subjects were

reserved in speaking with her, due to the high-pressure nature of their careers, and that

5 Hersey, 73 6 Kirkdorffer, 36

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this makes it difficult to paint a complete picture of the potential gender bias they

experienced: “I felt [that the interviewees] were very careful in how they spoke with me

during their interviews. It is difficult to draw a full conclusion on how much

discrimination women face today until they are in positions where they can talk freely

and not put their careers at jeopardy.”7

Similarly, in this document there were instances where the interviewee requested

to have names removed from the interview transcript, to avoid any repercussions. It is

possible that this request was unrelated to gender, but it is equally possible that the issue

of gender discrimination is still engrained in our musical society to such an extent that

professional women musicians fear the consequences of ‘outing’ anyone who has done

them harm.

Escher, Anna. (2014). Women in the Music Industry: Profiling Female Percussionists. (Proquest Document ID 1560683009) [Masters thesis, University of Southern California]. Proquest Dissertations and Theses Global.

This paper centers on interviews with five professional women percussionists

across diverse backgrounds and genres, and is definitively journalistic in nature. Escher’s

choice to take a journalistic approach has provided a model for this document, as has her

stated purpose for her project:

So, the question becomes, why is a project like this necessary? Because girls are still told to be quiet, and role models who can empower girls to not hesitate when it comes to the drums… are brave, rare and newsworthy.8

Escher organizes her document by separating the interviews by individual interviewee,

rather than by question, and includes full interview transcripts as the body of her paper. In

7 Kirkdorffer, 44 8 Escher, 8

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her conclusion, she argues that while not every woman percussionist experiences

drastically worse treatment than her male colleagues, there are often different challenges

to be overcome for musicians of different genders. Escher asserts that the investigation of

gender and its impact on the experiences of professional musicians is best done through

interviews with “the artists who have experienced the implications… firsthand.”9

Being a Masters thesis, Escher’s document does not adhere to standard format

guidelines for academic papers, makes continuous use of the first person point of view,

and generally reads as informal. In this way, Escher’s project verges more towards the

realm of a podcast interview, or an article in a magazine. Despite this, her focus on the

interviewees and their voices is relevant to the aim of this document.

BLOGS & WEBSITES

Amrine, Kate; Epstein-Boley, Rebecca. “Brass Chicks.” https://www.brasschicks.com/ (Accessed November 10, 2020)

Amrine and Epstein-Boley’s website is a resource for interviews, articles, and

even app recommendations, and features work written by and about women brass players.

Sadly, it appears that Amrine and Epstein-Boley are no longer posting regularly, but their

past interviews serve as interesting models for this document. One interview in particular,

with Canadian trumpeter Sarah Belle Reid, is notable for Reid’s in-depth answers to the

interview questions. Reid is blunt in talking about her experience as a female trumpeter,

stating, “[a]s a woman who plays trumpet and works with technology, I am regularly at

the receiving end of comments that downplay my accomplishments or question my

9 Escher, 33

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expertise.” 10 Reid goes on to list multiple comments she has received that fall under the

umbrella of microaggressions, and describes her commitment to empowering her students

to explore their creative interests regardless of gender. She challenges other teachers to

build studios that prioritize equity, stating, “[w]e all have the capacity to promote

confidence, hard work, and self worth in our students, and to foster an educational

environment that is rigorous while being supportive and inclusive.”

Amrine and Epstein-Boley have created a website that covers an array of valuable

topics, including interviews. Like many interviews, those published on “Brass Chicks”

are only as detailed as the interviewee chooses to make them, and they lack the

conversational nature that can be more easily achieved in audio or video interviews – the

interviews published by Amrine and Epstein-Boley.

Reusch, Sean. “An Artist’s Corner.” https://www.trombone101.com/artist-interviews-101 (Accessed November 10, 2020) Sean Reusch regularly publishes interviews with various professional

trombonists, and occasionally other brass players, from many different backgrounds on

his website. Reusch is slowly but surely building an extremely valuable resource for

teachers and students—his standard interview questions include requests for favorite

websites and solo pieces, as well as a question that specifically asks, “what advice would

you give to someone interested in majoring in music in college?” Reusch is a celebrated

trombone teacher that specializes in working with younger players, and it’s clear that he

views his students and their peers as the audience for these interviews. The questions are

10 Amrine and Epstein-Boley, https://www.brasschicks.com/2018/05/17/interview-with-sarah-belle-reid/

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relatively short and simple, yet pleasantly open-ended, giving each interviewee the

opportunity to be as detailed or as concise as they like.

Reusch has featured several interviews with women trombonists so far, including

Natalie Mannix, Donna Parkes, Isabelle Lavoie, Brittany Lasch, Megumi Kanda, Lauren

Husting, Amy Bowers, Nicole Abissi, and Hana Beloglavec. Lauren Husting’s interview

is one that verges outside of the standard ‘classical music’ boundaries, with her answer to

the question “who are some of your musical heroes?” Husting states:

I feel like I am inspired daily by someone new- there are so many different ways to be a musician! But I always come back to performers like Thom Yorke, of Radiohead, for his incredible sense of phrasing and timing; Neko Case, for the purity of her voice and the intensity to which she can use it; Sergei Prokofiev, because of how different and dark his music sounds from everything else of that era and beyond; and Abbie Conant… for her bravery and trust in her skill in the face of discrimination.11

Reusch’s website has provided a model for this document, in that it centers the

voices of the interviewees, rather than any commentary that Reusch might have provided.

This document, similarly, has been created with future resources in mind. The intention is

ultimately to create a podcast that presents the experiences of women trombonists across

many intersecting career paths, through individual interviews and conversations.

ARTICLES

Bruenger, David. “Women at Work: Trombonists in North American Orchestras & Universities,” International Trombone Association Journal, Vol. 20, No. 2, (April 1992): 12-21. https://www.trombone.net/wp-content/plugins/trombone-journal/issueviewer.php?iss=56.

Bruenger’s article provides an in-depth examination of the attitudes and

experiences of 18 professional women brass players. The article is organized by topic,

11 Reusch, https://bc497bcd-2fbb-4c1b-8b35-943c5a7aef25.filesusr.com/ugd/f9c99c_5bf8bdd2611c46d79067d8c8056c910b.pdf

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rather than by interviewee, but Bruenger tactfully weaves his summaries of the opinions

expressed by the group as a whole with anecdotes and quotes by individual women. The

article is lengthy for this publication, and it’s clear that Bruenger has a genuine interest in

the subject of gender equity.

The article succeeds in moving well beyond surface-level biographical

information, and touches on subjects ranging from a lack of female role models to

prejudices about breath capacity. Bruenger even discusses the differences of opinion

between interviewees on the best way to handle instances of gender discrimination and

mentions the prejudice that can accompany any women who takes action to defend

herself. After addressing the idea that women “who are perceived as more radical”

experience their own kind of prejudice from both men and women, Bruenger includes his

own reflections:

I feel that it is important to note that at no time during the interviews did I perceive anyone to be hostile, unreasonable, or to have a “chip on her shoulder,” even though we discussed sensitive issues at length. This perception leads me to suspect that the stereotype of the “radical, man-hating, woman brass player” is a myth—a fabrication arising from lingering biases in the workplace.12

Given that this was published in 1992, at a time when, according to the article, “there are

now at least nine women who play trombone … in full-time symphony orchestras in

North America,” Bruenger’s sensitivity to these issues, and his genuine desire to

understand the experiences of his interviewees, is remarkable. His article serves as a

reference point for the attitude of authentic curiosity and care that was taken in

conducting the interviews for this document.

12 Bruenger, 18

14

Tonelli, Vanessa. “It’s How We Play: Professional Female Trombonists in the United States.” International Trombone Association Journal, Vol. 43, No. 3, (July 2015): 26-30. https://www.trombone.net/wp-content/plugins/trombone-journal/issueviewer.php?iss=3.

Tonelli interviewed five professional women trombonists for this article, seeking

to “discover what factors are keeping more women from playing the trombone

professionally.”13 Her interviews with Ava Ordman, Debra Taylor, Natalie Mannix,

Megumi Kanda, and Jennifer Krupa seem to have led Tonelli to six simple pieces of

advice:

1. Find other women to play with. 2. Have a sense of humor. 3. Be nice to others. 4. Embrace your individuality. 5. Keep a positive attitude. 6. Keep playing!

While Tonelli includes quotes from her interviewees to demonstrate these tips, the article

misses an opportunity to give the topic of gender equity the weight it deserves. On her

third pieces of advice, “[be] nice to others,” Tonelli includes a quote from Megumi

Kanda: “If somebody treats you slightly bad, keep treating them well, with respect, and

they’ll come around.”14 How might this advice, and it’s associated quote, be viewed by

victims of sexual harassment? Tonelli seems to be saying that women should—to use the

oft-condemned phrase— ‘smile more.’15 While Tonelli certainly did not intend to make

this implication, the article could have done more to acknowledge the serious instances of

gender discrimination that still do occur.

13 Tonelli, 27 14 Tonelli, 30 15 Marcel Schwantes, “A New Study Reveals that Telling Women They Need to Smile More is

Bad for Business. Here’s Why,” Inc, September 20, 2019, https://www.inc.com/marcel-schwantes/a-new-study-reveals-that-telling-women-they-need-to-smile-more-is-bad-for-business-heres-why.html

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Tonelli’s article succeeds in centering the experiences of her interviewees, but it

could have culminated in a celebration of the unique strengths of these women, rather

than a list of tips that seem geared towards helping women trombonists blend into their

surroundings. Tonelli ends the article with a quote from Ava Ordman, who states, “It

seems that men and women alike are realizing that our ability to play trombone has

nothing to do with our gender. It’s how we play the horn.” This quote could have

provided a jumping-off point for Tonelli to discuss each interviewee’s playing style and

accomplishments, perhaps introducing readers of the International Trombone Association

Journal to recordings, ensembles, or other work by these women that the readers may not

otherwise encounter.

Tonelli chose two interviewees, Ordman and Taylor, who were included in

Bruenger’s article (discussed above), to examine any potential changes that may have

occurred in the twenty-year period between articles. However, she never returns to this

topic and doesn’t mention any such changes. While featuring these five women is a

positive attribute in itself, this article could have done more to analyze the progress that

may or may not have been made in the time since Bruenger’s article was published, and

to take seriously the issues confronted by women in the professional music workplace.

PODCASTS

Hitz, Andrew; LaDuke, Lance. “TBJ83: Trombonist Donna Parkes of the Louisville Orchestra on having a ‘Yes!’ attitude, sleeping bags and growing up in Australia.” The Brass Junkies Podcast. Podcast audio, April 17, 2018. https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/the-brass-junkies-podcast-pedal-note-media/id969120513?i=1000409058383. This podcast episode features a lengthy interview with trombonist Donna Parkes,

and touches on her background as a musician, her experience moving to Chicago from

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her native Australia at the age of 23, and her current experience as principal trombone

with the Louisville Orchestra. The interview is informal in nature, primarily focusing on

the facts of Parkes’ life, such as where she attended college and which orchestras she’s

performed with over the course of her career. Towards the end of the interview, however,

the conversation verges into deeper territory, and Parkes shares some of her feelings on

what it takes to achieve success:

Honestly, I think playing well is an important part of it, but I think being flexible and being a good colleague is a huge part of that, to be honest. … I actually, genuinely enjoy difference. I enjoy vastly different people, and I think that has a lot to do with it, because it makes you open to being supportive of whatever the environment around you is. … I really, truly believe this: that [if] you put yourself in environments that you’re uncomfortable with, and you’re out of your comfort zone, you can’t help but become stronger. You might not even realize it at the time, but there’s no question that you become stronger and more confident, just by being there. Even if it doesn’t work out well, or you don’t think it’s a success, the fact that you put yourself in that environment makes you a stronger person, makes you a better musician.

The way Parkes advocates for challenging oneself is inspirational. Sarah Belle Reid,

mentioned above in connection with her interview for BrassChicks.com, would likely

agree, given her statement that all teachers should “promote confidence [and] hard work”

in their students.

Parkes mentions one instance in which her gender intersected with her career—on

an occasion in which she was asked to substitute with an orchestra in Qatar: “I got there,

and the management was Arab, and there was a German manager there, and they were

deeply confused because they assumed I was gonna [sic] be a man. [laughs] And I

wasn’t! But it was too late, because I was already there and playing.” Parkes doesn’t

mention anything of more magnitude than that confusion, and describes the experience of

living and working in that region of the world as genuinely positive and fascinating.

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Parkes uses the example of her experience in Qatar to further emphasize her point that

putting oneself into a completely unfamiliar environment is a wonderful tool for growth,

as both a musician and a person in general.

The majority of the interview with Parkes covers factual, surface-level topics; this

is a valid and perfectly acceptable approach, however, the interviews included in this

document seek to dive deeper into the mental and emotional realities of the three

interviewees. Highlighting the mental and emotional aspects of being a professional

trombonist can help to humanize an interviewee, making their story even more relevant

and useful for young readers.

Hitz, Andrew; LaDuke, Lance. “TBJ113: Rebecca Cherian on encouraging young women players, the importance of allies and the Bernstein Bounce.” The Brass Junkies Podcast. Podcast audio, June 11, 2019. https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/the-brass-junkies-podcast-pedal-note-media/id969120513?i=1000441164789. This podcast episode features an interview with Rebecca Cherian, Co-Principal

Trombone of the Pittsburgh Symphony. In contrast to the interview with Donna Parkes,

this interview spends a significant period of time engaging with more personal topics;

Cherian discusses her experiences as a female trombonist throughout her career and

offers insight on what can be done to foster allyship in the college trombone studio.

Regarding her experiences as a woman, Cherian talks about holding the second

trombone position with the San Jose Symphony at the age of sixteen. The podcast hosts

ask whether Cherian was treated differently due to her young age, and Cherian responds:

Well, it was kind of funny. The two other trombone players were great, they were great guys, and they were really nice to me. The principal trumpet was, you know, kinda your typical trumpet player, and he was constantly trying to pick me up. The trombone players were always saying, you know, “this is statutory rape, you’ve gotta quit this.” [laughs] Everyone else in the orchestra was really kind, they were really nice to me.

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The podcast hosts are both horrified by this, but Cherian laughs it off and responds dryly,

saying, “Well, that was in, like, the 1970s…? So, it was a whole different world then… It

was just the way things were.” Cherian, while certainly not implying that the principal

trumpet’s behavior was acceptable, seems resigned to the reality of the situation. Later in

the interview, she goes on to talk about how much better the situation is for women today

compared to decades past, even though more work is needed to bring about real gender

equity.

One of the hosts asks Cherian for her opinion on the best way he can go about

supporting his female university students, and Cherian advises “the most positive thing

you could do for them is believe in them.” She goes on to say that being honest with

these students about how difficult the road ahead will be is crucial, saying, “as a woman,

[these students] are going to hit a lot more obstacles than men… you can’t just be a little

better than the rest of the competition if the competition is male; you have to be a lot

better.” Cherian talks about being open with her female students about the challenges

ahead and mentions that she frequently offers advice about how to navigate these

challenges; she encourages the podcast hosts to be honest and realistic with their students

as well, rather than avoiding the thorny issues around gender discrimination.

The interview with Cherian covers several of the same topics covered in the

interviews contained in this document—namely, past experiences that have been

influenced by gender, and advice for young women entering into a musical career. While

this document is built on the foundation of very specific questions, posed to each

interviewee, Cherian’s interview moves into these topics organically. This organic,

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conversational style is standard for The Brass Junkies Podcast, which explains the stark

contrast between the interview with Cherian and the previously discussed interview with

Donna Parkes.

Cubides, Karen. The Musician’s Guide to Being Healthy, Wealthy, and Wise. https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/the-musicians-guide-to-being-healthy-wealthy-and-wise/id1440699268 Karen Cubides’ podcast includes interviews with professional musicians on a

variety of instruments, but also includes episodes wherein Cubides offers business

advice, tips on goal setting, and thoughts on what constitutes a positive relationship with

money. While the episodes that do not feature interviews are irrelevant to the aims of this

document, the interview-based episodes have a similarly informal style to the interviews

conducted herein. Cubides asks questions relating to emotional well-being, mental health,

and other personal topics of her interviewees, in addition to covering aspects of the music

business. The deeper nature of these interviews makes this podcast a valuable resource

and a model upon which to base future research of this nature.

McInerny, Nora. Terrible, Thanks for Asking. https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/terrible-thanks-for-asking/id1126119288 Nora McInerny’s podcast, Terrible, Thanks for Asking, consists of interviews and

conversations, primarily with people who have experienced grief and loss, or otherwise

traumatic life events. While this podcast is not focused on music or musicians, it

represents a model for the future podcast that I will create based on the content of this

document. McInerny expertly navigates difficult conversations, bringing a sense of

community and support to even the most heart-wrenching stories. She interjects

background information and observations within the interviews in a seamless manner—

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thanks in part to excellent editing. Despite the difference in medium, McInerny’s style of

interviewing has inspired the ‘hands-off’ approach to the interviews contained in this

document.

Similarly to previously mentioned resources, Terrible, Thanks for Asking allows

each interviewee to tell their story in their own voice, without imposing comparison or

excessive contextualization. Each story is treated with great care, and this document

seeks to mirror the sense of empathy that McInerny embodies in her commentary by

allowing each interviewee to describe their thoughts in their own words.

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INTERVIEWEE BIOS

Bios are quoted from each interviewee’s personal website.

Emily White Emily White is professor of sackbut at The Guildhall School of Music and Drama. She also teaches trombone and sackbut at The Royal Welsh College of Music and Drama, Wells Cathedral School and co-directs the Huntly Summer School which she co- founded in 2010. She was made an Associate of the Royal Academy of Music in the 2016 honours and became an affiliated solo artist to Conn-Selmer in the same year. Emily is a member of The English Cornett & Sackbut Ensemble (ECSE) who have two Gramophone award winners and a Diapason D’Or in their extensive discography. ECSE play internationally, performed their BBC Proms debut in 2013, and are especially known for their collaborations with vocal ensembles such as I Fagiolini and Alamire. The Spy’s Choirbook was voted Best Classical CD of 2014 in The Times, and won the Gramophone Award for Early Music in 2015. Emily also plays baroque violin, and studied with Rachel Podger and Walter Reiter. She has been asked to play violin for I Fagiolini in 2017, in Italy and UK, performed Scylla and Charibdis - A Concerto in the Fantastic Style written for her by Rachel Stott in Redland, Los Angeles in June 2017. She plays fiddle in The Brewery Band who gave their debut recital in the Classical Transmissions series 2018. Emily is a member of Pandora’s Box, the contemporary trio with John Kenny and Miguel Tantos-Sevillano who have given recitals across Spain, Portugal, Ireland and USA, were Artists in Residence at the 2016 Cumnock Tryst, and were guest artists at the 2017 International Trombone Festival in California. She recorded The Secret House, Solo Sonata for female trombone written for her by John Kenny and it was released on disc, The Secret House, in 2017 alongside duets written for her and Kenny. Emily studied trombone and violin at The Royal Academy of Music, Guildhall School of Music and Drama and Trinity Laban, and is very appreciative of the inspiration and ideas she has received from teachers and colleagues alike.16

16 http://www.inecho.co.uk/emily-white.html In White’s case, since she does not have a personal

website, her bio was quoted from the website of one of her chamber groups: In Echo.

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Kirsten Warfield Growing up in North Dakota as the fourth of five children of the junior high school band director, it was almost inevitable that I would end up in music. Music was all around and was lived every day. I got two degrees in music and was working on a doctorate when I won a job with the United States Army Band, "Pershing's Own." I have played with many varieties of band—brass, jazz, dance, concert, rock, gypsy, wedding, show—even some orchestras. Music is now my profession, but it's more than that. My musical identity lies in the programs and compositions I am creating. I am finding and developing my musical voice and along the way also trying to encourage my students to find theirs. I value creativity and simplicity. I am very grateful for my husband, a musicologist who brings new musical ideas into the house all the time. I am also grateful to my dogs for their steadfast support.17 Jennifer Wharton Jennifer Wharton is a low brass specialist based in New York City. Though getting her start classically, Jen has deep roots in jazz, commercial, chamber and Broadway music. Like a virus, she won’t stop until she has conquered the world! These days, Jennifer can be found leading her trombone-forward ensemble, Bonegasm, and performing in West Side Story but has also held positions at King Kong, Beautiful, The Gershwin’s Porgy and Bess, Jekyll and Hyde, Scandalous, Wonderland, 9 to 5 and Curtains, as well as performing as a substitute in over a dozen other Broadway productions.

Jen is a member of two multiple Grammy-nominated ensembles, Darcy James Argue’s Secret Society and Alan Ferber Big Band. She has also performed on the Grammy-nominated cast albums for The Gershwin’s Porgy & Bess, 9 to 5, The Musical and Curtains, The Musical as well as the Grammy-winning recording of Beautiful, The Carole King Musical.

She has performed and/or recorded with ensembles including the Vanguard Jazz Orchestra, Dizzy Gillespie All Star Band, Ken Peplowski Big Band, Miggy Augmented Jazz Orchestra, DIVA Jazz Orchestra, Arturo O’Farrill and the Afro-Latin Jazz Orchestra, Birdland Big Band, Ayn Inserto Jazz Orchestra, Woody Herman Orchestra, Terraza 7 Big Band, John Yao and His 17 Piece Instrument, Walking Distance, South Florida Jazz Orchestra, new Alchemy Jazz Orchestra, Steven Feifke Big Band, and the BMI Jazz Composers’ Workshop.

Jennifer is an XO Professional Brass artist and plays the 1240-LT bass trombone. She teaches bass trombone at Montclair State University in New Jersey.18

17 https://kwarfield.wixsite.com/kirsten-warfield/bio 18 https://jenniferwharton.com/about/

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QUESTION 1: IF YOU HAD TO SUMMARIZE EVERYTHING YOU DO WITH MUSIC IN A SINGLE ‘JOB TITLE,’ WHAT WOULD YOU CALL YOURSELF?

With this question, the aim was to allow each interviewee to self-identify

according to the direction their career has taken. All three interview subjects have built

diverse musical careers that both include and extend beyond common job titles like

‘Composer’ or ‘Teacher,’ so this question offered each interviewee the opportunity to

reflect on the cumulative impact of their work.

Emily White defined herself as a freelancer, celebrating the freedom that she

enjoys within the gig economy as both performer and teacher, and touching on the

generally positive perception of freelancers in the United Kingdom:

I would call myself a freelancer. I think it’s the biggest unifying thing about everything that I do, and it’s an identity that I’m actually very proud of. In the UK, it’s quite a respected job title. I can’t say whether I’m a performer or a teacher, because my teaching has become so important to me, that to not call myself also a teacher, is to disregard half of me. I think about my teaching so much, even when I’m playing. I do feel really mainly a player, and yet... And yet. … I can’t decide between the two, but what I am with both, is freelance. … [I]f the product I give is interesting enough, people will pay to have it. If I stop being interesting, I won’t be employed. It’s the same scenario of being on your toes, and also, to a certain extent, completely free to choose what you spend your life on. … I feel very much like I’m riding my own horse.

White’s thoughtful response shows the difficulty she feels in trying to decide whether

playing or teaching is her primary occupation, but ultimately, the nature of her work as

contractual rather than tenured seems to be the more unifying factor. In her interview,

White reflected on the different levels of happiness she has occasionally observed

between freelancers and musicians with tenured positions, wondering whether the level

of flexibility she has as a freelancer has contributed to her generally joyful outlook on

life.

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Kirsten Warfield mused on the modern norm of ultra-specialization among

musicians, mentioning that historically, people who called themselves ‘musicians’

assumed many more diverse responsibilities than musicians seem to today:

My husband and I talked about this for a while, and musician should cover it. But, like a lot of jobs now—outside of music—things have become so specialized. If you look back in the history of musicians, a musician was somebody who performed, and who taught, and who composed, and did all of those things. And marketed themselves and did recordings once those were available. And now ‘musician’ seems like, “no, I play classical trombone for something that has notes on the page, and it’s probably just orchestra—maybe brass quintet.” You know? So, I feel like ‘musician’ should cover it, but it seems to connote these days a more specialized thing [than] what I actually do. …So, did that kind of answer that? It’s like, well, musician, but with an asterisk: what do you mean by musician? What I mean by musician is pretty broad, and wide ranging.

Warfield went on to praise entrepreneurial musicians over more specialized players,

saying, “musicians who have become entrepreneurs, are the musicians who are

successful… [I]n business, it’s either grow or die. You have to be able to adapt. You

know, you can’t sit in the orchestra for fifty years.” Warfield also compared today’s

concept of ‘musician’ with the concept of John Philip Sousa’s time:

My husband’s a Sousa scholar, and he looks at musicians that [are] really my exact colleagues from the Marine Band, back at the turn of the 20th century. And musicians back then were expected to play in the theatre, to play in the orchestra, to have studios of students, to publish music—all of these different things. …Sousa—he not only was a conductor, but he played violin in the theaters, and in the orchestras, and he was writing. He did all of these things, and of course he was a great salesman of himself and his band. So, that is really much more the type of musician that I feel like I am. The connection that Warfield draws between contemporary entrepreneurial

musicianship with the military musicians of a century ago is intriguing, and it seems

especially relevant for young trombonists today. Young players seeking in-roads to the

professional music world today will need to be adaptable and savvy; orchestral jobs are

25

extremely competitive19, and full-time post-secondary teaching positions are increasingly

rare20, making the two careers most often presented to undergraduate Music Performance

majors arguably the least attainable. Warfield’s career is one example of an alternative

path; interestingly, she is the only interviewee to have transitioned from a tenured

position to largely freelance work, and her comments here focus on her post-military

experiences. Her advice to pursue a broadened skill set is echoed throughout her

interview.

Jennifer Wharton answered this question with tongue firmly in cheek, but also

emphasized her simple desire to just play music, whatever the context:

Single job title… um [laughs]… Not ringleader… Wow, so, I’m a bandleader, but I also… maybe just… blower? I don’t know, I’m a professional honker, or something? [laughs] I mean, technically it would be just, freelancer. You know, that’s the easiest way to name it. … I just want to play.”

Wharton clearly doesn’t take herself too seriously, identifying herself as a “jokester”

elsewhere in her interview and priding herself on being able to “tell dirtier jokes” than the

male trombonists around her. But her answer is expansive in its simplicity— “I just want

to play.” The implication is that Wharton could be happy in any number of performance

contexts, and is more interested in finding opportunities to express herself through music

than in what those opportunities might specifically look like. Given Wharton’s status as

19 “There will be tough competition for jobs because of the large number of people who are

interested in becoming musicians and singers. Many musicians and singers experience periods of unemployment, and there will likely be considerable competition for full-time positions.” Bureau of Labor Statistics, U.S. Department of Labor, Occupational Outlook Handbook, Musicians and Singers, https://www.bls.gov/ooh/entertainment-and-sports/musicians-and-singers.htm (accessed October 25, 2020).

20 “In all disciplines, there is expected to be a limited number of full-time nontenure and full-time tenure positions.” Bureau of Labor Statistics, U.S. Department of Labor, Occupational Outlook Handbook, Postsecondary Teachers, https://www.bls.gov/ooh/education-training-and-library/postsecondary-teachers.htm (accessed October 25, 2020).

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an in-demand, widely praised professional bass trombonist, who could certainly get away

with a more verbose answer to the question of what she considers her job title to be, her

simple declaration is refreshing.

All three women seemed to take pride in the scope and diversity of their work as

musicians. Warfield’s response in particular is related to Lauren Husting’s answer to Sean

Reusch’s interview question about musical heroes; Husting cites musicians across

classical and alternative rock genres, saying, “there are so many different ways to be a

musician!”21 Even though all three interviewees described themselves as freelancers, with

Warfield’s answer being more implied than explicit, they all occupy a space where

performance, pedagogy, composition, and entrepreneurship intersect. Each woman

straddles multiple genres with ease, and exemplifies the courage required to forge one’s

own path. For young women trombonists today, White, Warfield, and Wharton are all

remarkably strong role models.

Reusch, 3. https://bc497bcd-2fbb-4c1b-8b35-943c5a7aef25.filesusr.com/ugd/f9c99c_5bf8bdd2611c46d79067d8c8056c910b.pdf

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QUESTION 2: WHY DO YOU PLAY MUSIC? WHAT GETS YOU UP IN THE MORNING, OR, WHAT KEEPS YOU GOING THROUGH DIFFICULT OR

STRESSFUL PERIODS? HAVE YOU EVER WANTED TO GIVE UP OR CHANGE CAREER PATHS? WHY DIDN’T YOU?

This question, designed to start a conversation about motivation and purpose,

included an opportunity for each interviewee to talk about any moments in which

optimism, drive, or even hope seemed difficult to summon. This question led to

discussions of mental health among music students, performance anxiety, and the general

stress involved in pursuing a career as a professional musician.

Discussing her reasoning for playing music, Emily White painted a beautiful

picture of the joy one feels in a chamber music setting. The passion she expressed in her

answer is difficult to convey in text alone:

The short answer to ‘why do I play music’: I feel it’s my voice. I feel heard, in a very profound way. Especially the kind of gigs I do, I have a chance to be really heard. I get to have some moments when it’s just me the whole audience is listening to. And I have a certain amount of leeway to do it the way I want, because I’m doing either contemporary music or sort of early, small chamber ensembles where I get to say how a sackbut sounds. But it’s also... I find there’s not a word for it, but there’s the opposite of lonely. It’s like, why not painting? Or why not—a lot of the paintings behind me here [gestures] are [from] my family, they’re all artists—they’re either artists or musicians. And I love art, I love sketching for fun and painting things, but, what I love about music is connecting with people. It sounds so cheap, but there’s something really profound. Like, I’m a lonely human or I’m a ‘something else’ human [laughs]. There isn’t a word for it in English but it’s the other thing, the kind of togetherness. When you’re on a platform and then there’s another musician there and you breathe and then you come together and then they go up and then you go up—[breathless]—you see, you can’t even describe how amazing that is. It’s like, you become a flock of birds that don’t need to decide things, you’re doing it all on radar or something. I find that wonderful. I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of that.

White’s comment here is reminiscent of one made by Rebecca Cherian in her TEDxCMU

interview. In response to a question about why she keeps going after so much criticism

and discrimination, Cherian says, “Well, when everything comes together in a live

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performance, there’s nothing else quite like it. The emotional energy of the orchestra is

shared with the audience in a collective, transcendent experience.”22

In talking about what keeps her going through difficult or stressful periods, White

cited her boundless enthusiasm for various projects, and again, the freedom inherent in

freelance work:

Well... I think my incredible greed. I have so many things I want to do, musically. Every time I’m home, I get to play music with my family, and they’re viola and French horn [players]. My mom is now, in her retirement, she’s doing piano as well. So, we’re doing like, Brahms trios, we’re doing string quartets, and my violin friend is there. So, if I’m home and I can’t be bothered to do the trombone, I don’t really notice that I’m having a bit of a [groans], because I go, “[gasps] Oh I can practice the Brahms [on violin]! And then later, when we try it through I’ll actually be able to play the high bit!” So, I think that helps. What helps get me up in the morning is that there’s always seventeen things I would like to be doing. And, I’m lucky that I was given a really good warm up when I first started. So my chops generally work. Other colleagues have talked about those disheartening days, when you just can’t play anything. I don’t really have those days. And I think that’s just luck, that I was taught really well at first. … And I suppose what gets me out of bed in the morning is that I really associate playing music with [pauses for a long moment] ...joy? I think? I think that’s true to say. And I think that’s where the freelancing comes in, that if there is an orchestra or a situation that depresses me... I don’t need to deal with that, or make a huge palaver, or insult anyone; I just sort of [back] off. Whereas I think if that [kind of situation] was my job, and I had to face that every day, I can imagine that you get to the time when you can’t bear to get out of bed, and you just don’t want to play the instrument. But, as a freelancer you can just constantly be moving away from situations that bring destruction and move towards ones which are fruitful and loving.

White’s excitement is profoundly authentic. There were many moments throughout the

interview where she seemed to overflow with a genuine love for music, at one point

remarking, “I don’t find any fault with the trombone… I think it’s beautiful, and funny.”

22 Cherian, Rebecca. (2020, March). Rebecca Cherian: Sexism in the Symphony: The Uphill

Battle for Female Trombonists [Video file]. Retrieved October 25, 2020. https://www.ted.com/talks/rebecca_cherian_sexism_in_the_symphony_the_uphill_battle_for_female_trombonists

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It seems fitting that White can find renewed vigor by simply switching gears—picking up

the violin instead of the trombone, for example—since she has such a positive view on

the variety inherent in freelancing, and such a deep admiration for so many different

musics.

Kirsten Warfield answered this question simply, saying, “this one is so easy for

me! My answer is—why do I play music? I can’t help it.” In talking about how she gets

through difficult periods, she cited the resilience and ingenuity of enslaved people who

continued to make music, despite their horrific circumstances:

And, what keeps me going during difficult or stressful periods—because I’ve had plenty—it’s my belief that there’s always a way. For someone who loves music, you can take away everything. And this has been proven out by people who had everything taken away: slaves. They still found a way to make music. When their instruments were taken away, they created their own instruments out of spoon, or the jawbone of a donkey, or a box, basically. … So it’s like, if they can do it, so can I. There’s always a way. It may not the way that I’ve been taught, it may not be the way that is expected of me, it may not be the way that I’ve been doing things, but there’s always a way, and I just have to find it.

Warfield’s determination here is evident. The connection she makes with enslaved people

seems to imply that she has endured periods of feeling trapped and unable to make her

own decisions. Her statement of “there’s always a way” is a kind of call to action for any

musician who feels trapped in some way, and also serves as an offer of encouragement

for young players enduring their own periods of difficulty.

Similarly to White and Rebecca Cherian, Jennifer Wharton described the

experience of being emotionally moved while playing music:

I play because there are those moments—and they don’t happen as often as they used to—but there are those moments where the hair on your arms stand up, where you get the chills, where you feel your blood pressure rise because of what’s happening around you, and it’s those moments that I live for.

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Wharton’s response differs from Cherian’s, who specifically spoke of an orchestral

performance, in that there is no explicit mention of which musical context brings

Wharton this transcendent feeling. This fits with her statement from the previous

question, “I just want to play.” In referencing “what’s happening around you,” Wharton

implies an ensemble setting of some sort, which echoes White’s reference to “a kind of

togetherness” that brings her joy as a musician. The element of playing with other

musicians, rather than alone, seems to be a consistent element. Regarding the question of

what gets her up in the morning, Wharton cites goal setting, saying, “if I didn’t have

goals, I would have a hard time getting up in the morning.”

Whereas White and Warfield didn’t discuss any instances when they thought

about pursuing alternate careers—White specifically said that she’s never wanted to give

up on music—Wharton was open about her doubts:

Yes. Yes! I’ve wanted to give up several times, and I know there are some musicians out there that will say, “if you want to give up then you should,” because music is too hard. I’ve heard that and I’m like... man, if I had given up...! How many times have I wanted to give up, I’ve wanted to give up like a thousand times! [laughs] But, I think it’s because I came from [a family that was like], “oh, no, you need a real job. You need something to fall back on.” So that voice is always in my head, even though I’m so far down the music path, I don’t think there’s any turning back now.

Wharton’s answer here is likely relatable for many musicians, and especially young

musicians, who may not feel supported in their career ambitions by their family. While

she was honest about her struggle with generalized anxiety throughout the interview,

Wharton was also quick to express confidence and security in her identity as a musician:

I think once you hit a certain point, of being a musician, even if you never pick up your horn or touch your instrument again, you’re always gonna [sic] be a musician. I think I’ve hit that point. I will always be a musician, even if I quit tomorrow. I put too much time and effort into it.

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Wharton’s words are encouraging, and speak to the clarity she has about her identity,

despite lacking a supportive family, and even taking into account the levity with which

she answered the previous question, jokingly calling herself “a professional honker.”

Hearing an established professional speak with both confidence and humor about

themselves is positive and refreshing.

This document was written during the time of the COVID-19 pandemic—a

pandemic that, at the time of this writing, has taken the lives of nearly 1.3 million people

worldwide and over 240,000 people in the United States—and all three interviewees were

in some level of lockdown at the time of their interviews. The global nature of the

pandemic makes it a constant topic of conversation during these times, and the interviews

were no different. As an active freelancer in New York City, Wharton had much of her

work put on hold without any sense of when it might return. Speaking to that uncertainty,

she said, “because of the pandemic, who knows, I might have to pivot at some point. I

don’t want to quit [playing]! But, I might have to add on additional skills.” In reference to

the few live gigs she has played during lockdown, she reflected, “I was so anxious for

both of them… it was like the twilight zone, I can’t even describe it.” White spoke of the

challenges of virtual teaching, but has found ways to use the digital barrier to her

advantage:

Well, something I’ve been aiming for, for a long time, consciously, is to try and make my students… use their own judgement, and not be waiting for my approval. I’ve noticed that it’s been very hard to get them to trust that. But now, I’ve even slightly—[whispers] between you and me—faked bad connection. So I’ll say, “Oh, I couldn’t quite hear, were you in time that time?” Or like, “I’m sorry, I can’t really make out your tone quality, but are you happy with it?” … Now [that] there’s like a literal barrier, it means that they are on their own in their room going, “...yeah, I like it.” It’s changed things in that it’s made what I’m

32

aiming for happen much more quickly. And they’ve also taken responsibility for what they’re going to do with this time. I’m like, “well this could be three months, what do you want to achieve in that time? When we come out the other side, what kind of player do you want to be, and how can I help you become that?” …So, it’s time to decide, “what do I want?” which is very powerful for them. Warfield didn’t specifically talk about any pandemic-driven anxiety, but she did

mention COVID-19 several times as a barrier to moving forward on various projects,

simply due to the lockdown restrictions in place. She also mentioned, when discussing

any regrets she has about her career choices so far, that the actions of her past had led to

her being outside of the military during this time, which she considers a positive

outcome. She stated, “[I do not] want to be in the military during COVID, where they are

not protecting their soldiers. And to have them telling me how much risk to take, when it

comes to the pandemic.”

Between the three women, there seems to be a variety of coping mechanisms for

potentially distressing periods. White’s enthusiasm, Warfield’s determination, and

Wharton’s perseverance all seem to serve them well during times of uncertainty and

unease, whether personal or global. It’s easy to imagine that Donna Parkes would have a

similar strategy, based on her thoughts on how to achieve success, as quoted earlier in

this document. While Parkes was specifically referring to a diverse range of geographical

and stylistic playing environments, her statement that “[when] you’re out of your comfort

zone, you can’t help but become stronger,”23 speaks to a sense of grit in the face of

adversity. One suspects that White, Warfield, and Wharton would agree.

23 Hitz, Andrew; LaDuke, Lance. “TBJ83: Trombonist Donna Parkes of the Louisville

Orchestra on having a ‘Yes!’ attitude, sleeping bags and growing up in Australia.” The Brass Junkies Podcast. Podcast audio, April 17, 2018. https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/the-brass-junkies-podcast-pedal-note-media/id969120513?i=1000409058383

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QUESTION 3: GIVEN WHAT YOU’VE LEARNED IN YOUR CAREER, WHAT WOULD YOU DO DIFFERENTLY IF YOU COULD DO THINGS OVER? WHAT

ADVICE WOULD YOU GIVE TO YOUR YOUNGER SELF?

This question was designed to solicit reflection from each interviewee on the path

that has led them to their current success. Emily White discussed the pressures of music

school, and expressed regret for the fact that she hadn’t taken time to simply enjoy herself

during that period of her life:

I would say, I wish I’d enjoyed—that I’d been aware earlier of how much fun life is. I was very, very serious, especially at school. Wells [Cathedral School]—very serious music school, very intense, the academy... I just worked really, really, really hard. I didn’t really have fun. I mean, I had one night out where I went to a nightclub and was ill on the floor and was taken home in a taxi [laughs], but that’s really it for four years, and it wasn’t really—not that I’d think, you know, wild boozing, but just generally lying in the sun, with some friends, having a laugh. I’ve learnt to do that as an adult! I didn’t really do it as a student. And I was so loyal, and also compliant, that I had no time to rest, breathe out—you know, life is so joyous. And I didn’t realize, when I was a student. So I’m sorry, in a way, that I wasted all that lovely youthful time with great musicians around me basically frowning and being intense and trying really, really hard.

White’s comments speak to the demanding nature of music school, and the pressures

experienced by many university music students today. While rigor is certainly important,

given the competitive nature of a career in music, students today might consider taking a

cue from White, and working towards finding balance between their studies and their

lives outside of school.

White also discussed a period during her studies when she put down the violin to

focus all her energy on her trombone studies. Speaking to how difficult it is to double on

such different instruments in music school, she said that most universities “[aren’t] set up

to really accommodate people that want to take both instruments seriously. …[T]hey

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don’t really ever put the kids first, but they can’t necessarily if they’ve got a program to

put on of Bruckner.” She went on to describe her experience:

If I’d known that it wasn’t going to be forever I would’ve been less grieving, but I really missed violin, even though it was my choice. It broke my heart. If someone had said, “it doesn’t need to be forever, but right now it’s going to be a heck of a lot easier to ride one horse at a time. Hold that love for the violin, and it can flourish later,” I probably wouldn’t have believed them, because teenagers don’t.

White said that she regrets the time she spent grieving the loss of the violin, since at the

time, she hadn’t known that both violin and trombone would be part of her future musical

identity. With the benefit of hindsight, she celebrates the impact her break from the violin

has had on her relationship with the instrument:

The only thing I can think of that I’d do differently is, I would say it was good to stop the violin then. Especially because—no offense to the teacher that was there—but, it was all about [growls] “get it right, or I think you are useless!” And not engaging with that has really helped me, because I’m a really happy violinist, and most violinists have a certain level of self-loathing. And I don’t. And I think it’s because I just stopped at the right time. I took a great big gap, just when I was meant to learn that I am but scum on the earth. So I wouldn’t say I regret stopping [violin], but what I’d do differently is acknowledge that it wasn’t forever. Because there were ten years of grieving that were unnecessary, wasted emotion.

White’s commentary on the emotional well-being of violinists, while certainly a

generalization based on her own experience, speaks to a real phenomenon of stress and

pressure among some string players.24 There are undoubtably parallels within the brass

world, perhaps more so among conservatory music students, and again, the idea of

work/life balance comes to mind.

24 Violinist Adrianna Warsaw-Fan Rauch, in an article for The Washington Post, wrote about how

her Juilliard education and other music studies had “extinguished” her love for the violin. She describes becoming “disillusioned and resentful of my apparent disposability.” https://www.washingtonpost.com/posteverything/wp/2016/12/02/i-used-to-love-playing-violin-but-mastering-it-broke-my-heart/

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Kirsten Warfield went through an experience during her time in the United States

Army Band, “Pershing’s Own,” that left her feeling alone and betrayed, to put things

incredibly mildly. She did not discuss specific details during her interview, but to

summarize the story as Warfield tells it on her personal blog, she reported sexual

misconduct to her superiors only to be consequently ostracized by her peers, evaluated as

‘not fit for service’ by her superiors, and forced into retirement from the military.25 In

talking about things she would have done differently, Warfield referenced this experience:

As far as stuff at the Army Band, I probably would’ve remained anonymous. [laughs] I’ve always seen myself as a cynic, but it turns out I overestimated people, as far as like, that they are my friends and they’ll have my back. And so, if I would’ve been more of a cynic, I would’ve not had thought that, and I would’ve made any complaints anonymously. Which... really would’ve been worse for all of them. But instead of them, taking it upon themselves [to appropriately address my reports], in their positions of leadership that had been bestowed on them, they chose to sweep everything under the rug and protect the status quo. And… that was really disappointing. But yeah, I’d either have remained anonymous, or would’ve never tried to change anything or stand up for myself. And, just accepted my fate that I was never going to get what my peers got.

Warfield’s answer here speaks to the profoundly negative impact of her experiences in the

military. Her blog echoes this disillusionment, and frequently compares the honorable

mystique associated with the military with the less-than honorable behavior Warfield

observed among her Army band colleagues.

Warfield went on to talk about the positive things that have happened in her career

since leaving the military, saying that “if I [had] stayed a year longer I wouldn’t have

been able to do some really special and important things to me.” She mentioned having

the opportunity to attend the Bang on a Can Festival as a fellow, as well as giving recital

25 Warfield, Kirsten. https://kwarfield.wixsite.com/kirsten-warfield/blog

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performances at several different universities, as things she was grateful to have had the

chance to do. She continued:

If you would’ve asked me a year ago, maybe I would’ve said, “it would’ve been better if I would’ve just kept my mouth shut.” But this year it’s like, “no, no. It was perfect getting out at exactly that time.” Otherwise I wouldn’t have gotten [to do] all those things last year.

Given the damaging impact of Warfield’s military experience on her mental and

emotional well-being, as evidenced by her blog posts and the manner in which she

describes the experience, the fact that she can reflect positively on her recent successes is

a testament to her strength. “There’s always a way,” indeed.

Jennifer Wharton described her own challenges in learning to improvise—a skill

she feels is necessary to remain competitive in the New York City freelancing scene:

[During high school], no one ever made me improvise. And then my senior year, I think they made me improvise once, and then it just became like every once in a while, like maybe once every year, someone would ask me to do it. But it wasn’t something that bass trombone players really did. It was just in the last few years, living in New York, where these bass trombone players were moving to New York, and they could improvise. And I’m like... god dammit! [laughs] Now I have to learn!

Wharton doesn’t feel at all comfortable improvising, and said she would “rather be

standing naked onstage,” but talked about drawing motivation from her hobby of doing

triathlons:

[I]t became like, “okay... if I can do this [triathlon], then what else can I do?” And, I feel like applying that logic to music has actually really pushed me way farther that I thought I ever would go. I never thought I’d be purposefully trying to improvise, and here I am; I have a band, and I’m making myself do it. In triathlon, I went all the way up to the Iron Man, twice. And I was like, “if I can do that, I can improvise over these changes for a minute and half.”

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In listening to Wharton improvise, one would not guess that it is an uncomfortable

experience for her—she seems to approach the challenge of improvisation head-on,

despite her stated self-doubt.

In answering the question of what she would do differently if she could, Wharton

said simply, “I would learn how to improvise when I was younger, just so it doesn’t feel

like it does right now. [laughs]” While she didn’t explicitly offer advice to her younger

self, Wharton’s perseverance—something that feels like it has developed organically over

the course of her career—is inspiring. She describes jazz, trombone, and music in general

as “never-ending journeys,” saying, “I’m never going to be a master of it, but the more I

do it, I’m going to get better. It’s kind of like riding a bike; the more you do it, the better

you get, the stronger you get.”

All three women emphasized mental health and positive emotion in their answers

to this question. White wished that she had taken time to enjoy herself more when she

was younger, but expressed gratitude for her current joyful relationship with the violin.

Warfield reflected on how she might have preserved more of her emotional well-being in

her ordeal with the Army Band, but ultimately celebrated the unique experiences she’s

had since leaving the military. Wharton wished for more comfort in the realm of jazz

improvisation, but still seemed proud of her own determination to improve. These

answers suggest a shared belief among these women that the beautiful aspects of the

present can outweigh the discouraging, or even damaging, elements of the past. This

belief can certainly provide inspiration and courage to young trombonists who may be

seeking to overcome elements of their own past in their pursuit of musical success.

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QUESTION 4: TALK ABOUT HOW YOUR GENDER HAS INTERSECTED WITH YOUR MUSICAL CAREER, AT ANY STAGE. DOES A SPECIFIC SITUATION,

DYNAMIC, INTERACTION, OPPORTUNITY OR OBSTACLE COME TO MIND?

This question addressed, in an open-ended way, the issue of gender dynamics in

the professional musical world today. As the interviewees are all trombonists, their

answers naturally spoke to the specific context of the brass world, and furthermore, each

interviewee was careful to avoid generalizations outside of their specific cultural

experience. Emily White spoke of the general attitude towards women trombonists in the

United Kingdom:

[Gender] is very much not an issue here [in the UK]. The first female principal trombonist was during the Second World War. … The most recent trombonist to win the Young Musician of the Year [a British national music competition] was a girl. … And, my mother is a brass player, she’s a horn player. So, when I grew up, I didn’t know it was a minority sport. And, you know, principal of BBC Symphony Orchestra is a woman, principal of the Hallé [Orchestra] is a woman. It’s very, very common here, not just to be a female player, but to be in a high position, in a leader position. So, for that reason it’s not really a big deal. Speaking about her own experiences as a female trombonist, White said that she’s

never personally experienced any gender discrimination or sexual harassment in the UK.

She credits her upbringing, and the constant support of her family, for her resilience,

saying, “I think what made me invulnerable was… [my] amazing family. I have parents,

who have always established a sense of self respect, for myself. They [would never]

expect me to go along with anything I wasn’t comfortable with.” White also mentioned

her body type as a factor:

And I think also, it’s luck? That I’ve always been, sort of a skinny rake, who just does their own thing. Whereas, you know, if you’re a voluptuous, beautiful woman, who’s triggering all these blokes, and they wolf whistle at you the whole time, and they’re saying, “get yer tits out,” the whole time... You know, life is not fair.

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White believes that part of the reason she continues to associate playing music

with “joy and freedom” is the fact that she hasn’t experienced any negative treatment

related to her gender. But she does worry about her students, saying, “I’m thinking about

my students, my 18-year-olds, vulnerable girls going off, and I think, ‘what if it’s not

alright for them? Are they as invulnerable as me?’” Summarizing her feelings, White

stated:

I’m not likely prey for someone who persuades you that you need to sexually service someone to get work from them. That just wouldn’t work on me. But there are plenty of people who are vulnerable, and I know that that sort of thing did happen to other girls… and that breaks my heart.26 It is interesting to note the duality in White’s answers; she states that gender

inequality is not an issue for trombonists in the UK, yet expresses concern for her

students and for women with “voluptuous” body types. Sherrie Tucker, in her book Swing

Shift, describes the curiosity of interviewing women musicians who offered answers to

her questions that did not fit neatly into the “heroic pattern [she] had anticipated,” saying

that “[t]he question of what kind of story I might tell became more complicated with each

musician I interviewed.”27 Here, White’s curious inconsistencies illustrate the complexity

of discussions on the issue of gender discrimination.

In answering this question, Kirsten Warfield focused on her experiences in the

Army Band, speaking about the constant assumption by her peers that she would

26 White went on to say, “…I don’t see why they should’ve been made to do that. And if I know of

any crimes, I will... it makes me very angry, and I would go to the police. I would tear down anyone who would use music to do such a thing.” For me, this quote expresses her profound anger that the beauty of music would be tarnished by the ugliness of sexual harassment, and I found myself quite moved.

27 Tucker, 2-3.

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eventually have children. She mentioned one person who was particularly vehement

about this assumption:

So, when I got into the band, I had a friend who was just like, “you’re gonna [sic] have a baby. I just know you’re gonna do it.” And I was like, “no, I’m not.” And he was like, [taunts] “yes, you are.” And I’m like, [taunts] “No I’m not,” and he’s like, “you wanna bet?” and I was like, “Yes. I’m gonna bet you. I’m gonna bet you: in ten years, if I don’t have a baby, you buy me a steak dinner.” And you know, I collected on that bet. It was awesome. My husband was there too, and [my friend] bought steak dinners for both of us, at a really nice place in Boston.

These kinds of unsolicited comments fall under the umbrella of pregnancy

discrimination, an issue that is unfortunately still very common.28 Warfield mentioned the

assumption that, as a woman, she would eventually take maternity leave and “not be of

use” to the band. As someone who has chosen not to have children, Warfield went on to

say, “they lost no days from me having kids, birthing kids, or taking care of them later.

And of course, there was no appreciation for that.”

Warfield tells the story of winning the bet, and collecting her steak dinner, very

humorously. Despite the damaging nature of the pregnancy discrimination she faced, both

through the comments she received and in her military medical care—Warfield recalls

being told multiple times by doctors that, “when you have children, you’ll have to

consider [the implications]”—humor seems to be an effective coping mechanism for her,

at least in the context of this interview.

28 According to an article published on Forbes.com in July 2020, “statistics show that in the last 10

years, more than 50,000 pregnancy discrimination claims were filed with the Equal Employment Opportunity Commission and Fair Employment Practices Agencies in the United States.” (Bryan Robinson, Forbes) Another article, published by NBC News in 2016, states that “some experts argue that even the mere possibility that a woman can have a baby can be enough for employers to push her to the back of the line.” (Safia Samee Ali, NBC)

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While Warfield’s experiences centered on her time in the military, Jennifer

Wharton spoke about her experience in graduate school, asking that any identifying

information be removed:

Within a month or two of school starting, [name of professor] was making comments, in lessons, about how maybe my throat is smaller than a man’s. And it was basically… you could hear when I was inhaling. I’m not sure if it was because [of] the wind rushing in through my mouthpiece, [or] it could be me, like, gasping for air. But [the professor] started making all these, like, female comments, and I wanted him to stop. So, I went to the head of my program, I told him what was happening, and I said, “I’m going to say something.” And I did—over email, because I was upset about it and when I get upset, I cry. And then, after he read the email, he wrote back and basically said I was worthless as a student, [and] he didn’t want to give me false hope about a career when I had no hope.

Wharton described instances of this professor giving her such poor scores in ensemble

auditions that, despite receiving high praise from other professors on the audition panel,

her average score would be low enough to disqualify her from the top ensembles. She

also described having to contest this professor’s grades, and says that the experience was

so damaging to her mental health that she “didn’t practice for years.”

Wharton’s time as a graduate student clearly had a significant impact on her

emotional well-being. She spoke of discovering her triathlon hobby as a direct result of

the experience—or at least during the same period of her life—and of drawing inspiration

and strength from her successes in that sport. During the interview for this document, and

in other published interviews, Wharton has explicitly linked physical exercise to her

mental health; in an interview with Karen Cubides, Wharton mentioned her frustration

with a knee injury, saying, “[i]f I could get out and run or bike, I probably would feel a

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lot better about life.”29 Wharton also mentioned having positive experiences with therapy

and anti-depressant medication in her interview with Cubides. In her interview for this

document, however, Wharton spoke only about the personal empowerment she felt as a

triathlete, and about how that hobby helped her to cope with the mental repercussions of

her traumatic graduate school experience.

Wharton also talked about developing an identity as “the chick bass trombone

player,” and feeling that this identity helped set her apart from other trombonists in the

New York City music scene. A number of other women bass trombonists have moved to

NYC in recent years, and Wharton described feeling, to her own surprise, threatened by

this new competition. A friend advised her to find “something that’s your own,” and this

advice was one factor that spurred Wharton to create her current project: Bonegasm.30 It

seems that Wharton was able to rebuild elements of identity through Bonegasm—the

project is something she clearly takes great pride in, referring to it several times in the

interview as “my band.”

Wharton’s story seems peppered with periods of rebuilding confidence and

identity—after the trauma of her graduate student years, she became a successful

triathlete, twice completing the Ironman Triathlon, as previously mentioned31; in response

to emerging competition in the NYC music scene, she became a bandleader, and her band

29 Cubides, Karen, The Musician’s Guide to Being Healthy, Wealthy, and Wise, “Episode 64:

Interview with Jennifer Wharton,” May 13, 2020. https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/the-musicians-guide-to-being-healthy-wealthy-and-wise/id1440699268

30 Bonegasm is essentially a jazz trombone quartet with rhythm section, but is defined on Wharton’s website as “a climax of musical excitement, characterized by feelings of pleasure centered in the ears and experienced as an accompaniment to hearing a group of trombone players.” https://jenniferwharton.com/music/bonegasm/

31 Considered the most difficult single-day athletic event in the world, an Ironman Triathlon consists of swimming 2.4 miles, biking 112 miles, and running 26.2 miles, in that order, over the course of 16-17 hours. https://entertainment.howstuffworks.com/ironman.htm

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Bonegasm will soon release their second album. Warfield leans on humor in retelling her

story, but also continues to push forward as an artist, as evidenced by the

accomplishments detailed in the previous chapter of this document. White’s boundless

enthusiasm for music as an all-encompassing artform was evident throughout her

interview; in addition to the personal resilience she cites as protecting her from gender-

based harm, perhaps her deep love for music acts as shield against the kind of sexism she

fears will impact her young students. All three women seem to utilize different coping

mechanisms in response to the difficulties they have observed or faced throughout their

careers, and while they would perhaps not use the ‘coping mechanism’ label so explicitly,

their responses to their varying environments and experiences can certainly provide

valuable insight for young musicians today.

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QUESTION 5: HAVE YOU BEEN TREATED DIFFERENTLY FROM MALE COLLEAGUES OR COMPETITORS AT ANY POINT?

HOW DID THIS IMPACT YOU?

This question offered the interviewees an opportunity to elaborate on their

answers to the previous question, and to discuss the impact of their experiences. Here,

Emily White described a fairly disturbing episode that occurred while she was working

with an ensemble in Germany:

I mean, there are some really funny moments... one of them, where a really big trumpet player… grabbed me, tipped my head back, and poured vodka over my face, before a concert, because he was trying to make me drunk. I had my lips shut, but the vodka was just flowing over my face… and he was so big, that I honestly couldn’t do anything, you know, because he was giant.

White’s description of this incident as “funny” is curious, given how upsetting it sounds.

Speaking further about her time with that orchestra, White said that the other brass

players (presumably all men) didn’t shake hands with her on the first day of rehearsals—

despite all shaking hands with each other. She also mentioned a general sense that a

woman trombonist was an unusual spectacle, saying, “I think they were really shocked at

[my] gender, because people came up to me then and said things like, ‘I have never seen

a woman holding a trombone before!’ And I said, ‘well, this is what it’s like.’ [laughs]”

White seemed unphased by her experiences with the German ensemble, saying, “I

was there thinking, ‘is this what they’re like over here?’ It didn’t destroy my sense of self,

it made me think, ‘what an odd culture!’” She seemed able to easily distance her own

feelings from the incidents she had experienced, since she was a visiting member of the

orchestra with only a temporary role. In the interview, White very matter-of-factly stated,

“it was an orchestra from a different country, sort of not my business. But it’s like, if

that’s my orchestra, I don’t want to live with that. I wouldn’t work [regularly] alongside

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that kind of behavior.” Emily’s dismissal of the treatment she experienced as “funny” and

“not my business” is striking—it seems reasonable to wonder whether her attitude is a

form of coping mechanism, or more connected to the personal resilience she described in

her answer to Question 4.

Kirsten Warfield spoke about additional instances that occurred during her time in

the Army Band, but acknowledged that it’s impossible to prove that what she experienced

was directly related to gender, saying, “you can’t say that it’s definitely because of my

gender, and it may not have been. It might have been because I didn’t go to the ‘right’

schools.” The instances Warfield describes seem to fall under the umbrella of

‘microaggressions,’32 and as she says, they are hard to explicitly link to sexism or gender

bias:

I’d be right in the room when somebody was talking about offering somebody a gig, and they couldn’t do it, and they would not turn to me and say, “how about you?” Or, I was right in the room when my section leader was talking about who would be the next ‘guy’ to replace him, and I was the senior person, and my name did not come up. I was in the room when they were talking about needing to hire somebody who could play jazz as well as classical, and my name did not come up. Never mind that I was doing that on a regular basis. So, are those things related to gender? Maybe. Can you say absolutely? No, but it seems like it’s a pretty easy [connection], since I’m the only [woman] there... I often say that my problems [in the Army Band] may not have been because I was a woman, but the fact that I was a woman certainly didn’t help.

In keeping with research on microaggressions, these slights are hard to attribute directly

to sexist attitudes, and would likely go unnoticed by an outside observer, but nonetheless,

32 Dr. Derald Wing Sue, a professor of counseling psychology at Columbia University, defines

microaggressions as follows: “the everyday slights, indignities, put-downs and insults that members of marginalized groups experience in their day-to-day interactions with individuals who are often unaware that they have engaged in an offensive or demeaning way.” https://www.nytimes.com/2020/03/03/smarter-living/how-to-respond-to-microaggressions.html

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the receiver most certainly feels the damage. In the foreword to Derald Wing Sue’s book

Microaggressions in Everyday Life, Joseph G. Ponterotto writes, “The majority of

oppression faced by [women and other minority groups] is ‘micro’ (not immediately

visible to the eye), insidious, psychologically and physically draining, and often not

definable, illegal, or open to redress.”33 Regardless of the definability or lack thereof,

Warfield was passed over for opportunities that she was qualified for, and her irritation at

this slight is certainly understandable.

Jennifer Wharton said that she had been treated differently than her male

colleagues on many occasions, especially early in her career:

Oh yeah. I’ve had friends come up to me and ask me who I blew to get a certain gig. … I wouldn’t say I was the best bass trombone player ever, but I was certainly good enough to do gigs. But people assumed there was a different reason, like an ulterior motive, for me getting a gig, rather than me just being good enough to play it.

When asked about how she felt these incidents had impacted her, Wharton said that she

sees a pattern in how women tend to cope with the gender discrimination that exists in the

brass world:

I talk about this a lot in clinics, when I talk to younger people. I feel like women, traditionally, have done one of two things: either they go the ‘sexy’ route, or the ‘buddy’ route. I definitely went the ‘buddy’ route. I figured, if I could be dirtier than everybody, if I could tell dirtier jokes, and be funnier, and be just a pal, they wouldn’t sexually harass me. And 90% of the time, that worked. But there were some other times. [laughs]

Wharton went on to reflect on her choice to take the ‘buddy route,’ saying that while she

feels her sense of humor is now a firm part of her personality, she wonders whether that

would be the case if she had never had to use humor as a coping mechanism. Even in this

33 Sue, xi

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moment of the interview, Wharton laughed after mentioning the “other times” in which

her strategy didn’t work—a brushing off of, likely, very negative memories.

In describing other incidents that she’s experienced, Wharton also pointed out that

her propensity for ‘dirty’ jokes has come in handy for deflecting rude comments:

Yeah. I mean, I’ve been on a gig where there was no changing room for the ladies, so I had to go change in the multi-stall bathroom and had someone try to look at me. I’ve had people touch my ass. You know, and they’ll say stuff. If someone does say something—it rarely happens now, but back then it used to happen all the time—and I would, like, really lean into the dirtiness, so it made them really uncomfortable. … The last time I had to pull out something like that, I walked in [to a gig], and someone said, “Wow, you’re the only girl in the band?” and I’m like, “you know, I haven’t checked everybody…” [laughs] …I was very proud of that moment, and I tell everyone to feel free to use it.

Again, Wharton’s strategy of using humor as a coping mechanism in response to gender-

based microaggressions is apparent, and seemingly successful, given the pride she feels

in its efficacy.

In several of the articles and interviews discussed in the “Selected Similar

Resources” portion of this document, there are moments where women talk about

experiencing overt sexism. Rebecca Cherian describes being hit on by the principal

trumpet player of the orchestra she was performing with at the age of sixteen. In David

Bruenger’s article, Rebecca Bower mentioned that a conductor once stopped a rehearsal

“to rant about how women should never play trumpet, trombone or tuba.”34 Kate Amrine

and Rebecca Epstein-Boley feature an interview with Abbie Conant on their website,

Brass Chicks, where Conant—whose story of fighting back against the extreme sexism

she experienced during her time at the Munich Philharmonic is widely known—describes

34 Bruenger, 15

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feeling from her colleagues “a deep, cold hatred of women who were, in their mind, ‘out

of place.’”35

These incidents of overt sexism are striking and serious, and while they likely still

occur for women trombonists around the world, the common issues described by the

interviewees in this document, and by other women in the resources cited above, are far

more subtle. Warfield described being passed over for gigs despite being highly qualified.

White and Wharton both mentioned moments where random observers felt compelled to

express surprised that a woman could be a trombonist. Donna Parkes also experienced

this sense of surprise, when members of the administration of the orchestra she played

with in Qatar “were deeply confused because they assumed I was gonna [sic] be a man.”

The instances of overt gender discrimination in the music world seem to be decreasing

over time, as such things because less socially acceptable and more often litigated.

However, the more subtle, insidious microaggressions remain a part of the landscape for

women trombonists today.

35 Amrine and Epstein-Boley, “Making Statements: an Interview with Abbie Conant,” Brass

Chicks, January 23, 2018, https://www.brasschicks.com/2018/01/23/making-statements-an-interview-with-abbie-conant/

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QUESTION 6: WHAT ADVICE WOULD YOU OFFER TO YOUNG PLAYERS SEEKING A SUCCESSFUL CAREER IN MUSIC?

HOW ABOUT YOUNG WOMEN SPECIFICALLY?

This question, while giving interviewees the opportunity to offer any insight that

feels meaningful to them, was positioned after the questions regarding differential

treatment based on gender to provide some relief from any negative emotions that may

have arisen. The aim was to pivot slightly away from potentially traumatic memories,

instead bringing attention to the optimism that is often inherent in conversations about

future generations of musicians. Emily White offered advice to recently graduated music

students, who have become accustomed to the pressures of constant improvement and

meticulous self-analysis that often go hand-in-hand with university music study:

Generally, the thing that I think that young players could do with knowing earlier than they do, is that, until the moment they kind of leave college and want gigs, everything has been about them, including their lessons, their exams, their orchestral playing. The moment you leave and you’re on a gig, nobody cares. …All they care is, today’s job. Basically—well, certainly as a trombonist—it’s like, have you made it easy for everyone around you to do their job really well. …That includes, yes, you need to turn up and play well… And then [there’s] that switch, of feeling that you have a responsibility [to others beyond yourself]. Even in a recital. Your final [university] recital, it’s all about you. But the next recital you give, it’s all about your public.

She continues by talking about professionalism in the gig environment, addressing the

self-centeredness of some recent music school graduates in another way:

… Or, if you turn up to a gig, and you belittle the other player, because he’s struggling. He’s an old guy, and he’s struggling, and you do a really impressive warmup next to him, and show everyone that you can do a better job. What are you thinking! You’ll never get booked again! … I just think the young players don’t realize that that is how you get permanently written out. To women specifically, White carefully discussed an unfortunate trend she has

witnessed in women freelancers – the impulse to criticize:

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…I find that, young women are often angry by the time they come to work in the profession. And this anger, and this desire to criticize other players, is a terribly destructive thing. …I find that women generally are very self-critical. And they then turn to criticizing other people as well. Most of my male trombone colleagues never criticize another player.

White said that she had heard of various women who, upon not getting re-hired to play

with one group or another, would immediately blame gender discrimination. In her

experience, White believes the issue is unrelated to gender, saying, “…I don’t think men

criticize and then still get booked; I think nobody who criticizes, still gets booked.” White

was careful to acknowledge that there may be instances of gender discrimination about

which she is unaware, but that the pattern of women lacking the willingness to be team

players is something she’s observed in many cases.

When asked what advice she would offer, Kirsten Warfield was decisive: “Get

over your self-conscious bullshit.”

Some people don’t get anywhere even though they are excellent, and they are good enough. And some people get the job even though they’re not that great, or maybe they were great on that day. I’ve seen a lot of people do really well who were not the best at anything. And, they may not be players in [major orchestras], I’m not saying that—but people who have put together their own chamber groups [for example], they may not be all the best players. … But it just goes to show that there’s always a way, if you want to make music.

Warfield’s advice here speaks to the importance of elements beyond talent, like grit and

determination, in achieving success. She also spoke about her belief that the high levels

of self-consciousness that are often more prominent in women can undermine the

confidence needed to fully commit to the pursuit of a musical career. She spoke about

being completely without female role models until she had already won her job with the

Army Band, and being the only woman there, she remembers thinking, “is this something

that inherently I cannot do?”—evidence of her own self-consciousness early on in her

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career. She remembers having “very few people to look to where I would be like, ‘oh,

that’s a woman playing trombone excellently—it can be done.’” Warfield’s answer here

draws a connection between having female role models and developing higher levels of

self-confidence, and implies that that confidence can then lead to increases in grit and

determination—precisely the elements she seems to believe are key in achieving success

as a musician.

Warfield also spoke about the importance of having an open mind about career

options, saying, “If you can have a goal of something besides, ‘I need a principal

trombone spot in at least a second-tier orchestra,’ then you’ve got a much wider range of

options… only limited to how creative your mind is.” She connected self-confidence with

a willingness to take creative career risks, and her advice of “get over your self-conscious

bullshit” communicates a sense of urgency; much like White’s regret of the “wasted

emotion” she spent on grieving the temporary loss of the violin, Warfield seems to be

advising young players to stop wasting time and energy on doubting themselves, and to

instead dive headfirst into their career goals.

Jennifer Wharton also spoke about having an open mind when it comes to career

trajectory:

I’d say, a successful career may not be what you think it is. I never thought I’d be doing what I’m doing now, like playing Broadway. … [Success] may not look how you think it looks, so don’t turn down opportunities when they arise, just because you think [they’re] not part of your game plan. You never know who you’re going to meet.

Wharton described meeting the person who contracted her for her first Broadway gig

while “[playing at a] funeral. Like, a $50 gig.” She felt that, in addition to her playing

ability, her behavior and professionalism at the gig likely contributed to her being given

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opportunities later, and said that, “if I’d have been snobby about anything, you know, [or

acted like] ‘this gig is beneath me,’ it never would’ve happened.” Wharton’s advice here

is twofold: she believes it’s important for younger players to avoid discounting potential

opportunities that don’t fit into their perceived ‘game plan,’ and that having a

professional attitude towards every gig can lead to those unexpected potential

opportunities being offered in the first place.

Speaking to women specifically, Wharton advised keeping focused on future

goals, rather than getting caught up in present slights:

We can only control what we do. [And] the best revenge is success. So [if someone has] identified themselves as sort of misogynistic… just being able to identify it, and not absorb it, you know? You can say, “no, that’s someone I’m not going to listen to, because obviously, they’re deficient in some way, and can’t see my greatness.” [laughs]

Wharton also stressed the importance of building a like-minded support system: I feel like surrounding yourself with good people, all trying to do what you’re trying to do, supportive people… surrounding yourself with people like that will help you defend against the douchebags that say dumb things.

Wharton seems to be encouraging two specific coping mechanisms: identifying sexist

attitudes and choosing to focus attention elsewhere, and finding or creating a community

of supporters.

David Bruenger’s article, “Women at Work: Trombonists in North American

Orchestras & Universities,” published in the International Trombone Association Journal

in 1992, echoes the idea of being able to acknowledge any misogyny or sexism that

occurs yet choosing to focus energy elsewhere. Reflecting on the answers he’d been

hearing from his interviewees, Bruenger noticed a pattern:

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Questions about experiences with sexist attitudes in college and professional life elicited a mixed response. Some women stated that they had never had a problem with sexism in the workplace. Often though, in the course of the interview they would mention incidents that, to me, seemed remarkably discriminatory. I began to recognize that when someone said they had “never had a problem,” it did not mean that they had never been confronted with sexist attitudes. It meant, rather, that they had chosen not to focus on that type of behavior.36

Related to the strategy of directing one’s energy and attention away from those exhibiting

sexist attitudes, Emily White discussed adopting a perspective that focuses on finding and

emulating strengths that might be more prevalent in one’s male colleagues. She was quick

to qualify her perspective, saying, “[I’m not] implying men are better, because of course

they’re not. But some of the way they behave in the [section] is healthy and helpful, and

doesn’t need to be combatted or fought, but just joined in with!” She went on to ask,

“[w]hat can we emulate in that that’s good, while maintaining our sense of being

absolutely true to ourselves?”

White’s comments on the potential positive attributes of traditionally male

trombone sections, Bruenger’s observations that some women seemed inclined to focus

their energy away from the discrimination they experienced, Wharton’s advice to avoid

“absorbing” any misogyny that is expressed, and Warfield’s call to “get over your self-

conscious bullshit” all seem to point to a multifaceted perspective on gender dynamics

among women trombonists. Incidents of blatant assault and prejudice seem to be rarer

than they once were, although they do still occur. Female-identifying trombonists

entering the professional landscape today are faced with a complicated spectrum of

gender discrimination, including both rarer instances of flagrant bias and seemingly

commonplace, yet subtle, microaggressions.

36 Bruenger, 14-15

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QUESTION 7: WHAT OPPORTUNITIES OR RESOURCES WOULD YOU LIKE TO SEE MADE AVAILABLE FOR FEMALE-IDENTIFYING TROMBONISTS? FOR

EXAMPLE, WHAT DO YOU THINK ABOUT THE VALUE OF BLOGS, WEBSITES, OR PODCASTS? IS THERE ANYTHING ELSE THAT COMES TO MIND?

This question created a space for the conversation to merge into an open-ended

brainstorming session and gave interviewees the chance to comment on existing

resources, initiatives, and organizations. Emily White again mentioned the differences

between various cultures—citing her experiences in Germany compared to those in her

native UK—saying, “I think there’s possibly a lot more fighting and shouting that needs

to be done, in other countries.” White also expressed a desire for “a forum where people

can honestly speak,” and mentioned her unease surrounding all-women ensembles:

I’ve always been very nervous of corralling people together [based on] gender, but on the other hand, it would nice to have a conference in which I could say that! … I don’t think we need to have a gimmick to hang our brass groups on. Kirsten Warfield wondered about building a virtual-reality experience for men in

order to show them, in a visceral way, the realities of what women sometimes face. She

went on to say that she believes the support of men is essential in order to truly eradicate

gender bias and discrimination, saying, “I would like for people to choose to make a

change. That’s women, and men. But I don’t think we get to equality without men

stepping up.”

Jennifer Wharton viewed the various available resources as generally positive,

mentioning the Women in Jazz Organization37 and their mentorship program. Wharton

went on to talk about the progress that has occurred in recent years with the International

37 Women in Jazz Organization is, according to their website, “a collective of over 500

professional performing Jazz Musicians who identify as Women or gender Non-Binary. Largely a New York City-based organization, with connections to other individuals and groups nationally and internationally.” http://wearewijo.org/

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Trombone Association and International Trombone Festival, saying, “I’ve never felt like,

when I was in school, that it was a place for me. It seemed very ‘bro-y,’ you know? I

think it’s less so now, and they’re making giant efforts.”

Overall, this question generated less insightful conversation than other interview

questions, which may speak to a sense that there are few memorable resources available

for female-identifying trombonists. Conversely, it may be true that the interviewees see

resources like blogs, websites, and podcasts—the forms of media this question

specifically mentioned—as tangential to the kind of support structures that would be most

helpful for women today. Perhaps a rephrasing of this question in the future would prove

more thought-provoking and yield more fruitful discussion.

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QUESTION 8: IS THERE ANYTHING ELSE YOU’D LIKE TO SHARE?

This question was added in order to leave space for each interviewee to return to,

or introduce, any topics that she felt were not adequately covered in previous questions.

Because of the informal nature of each interview, some interesting tangential

conversations occurred at points outside of this specific question being asked; a selection

of those conversations will be included here as well.

With Emily White, the conversation turned to teaching. She said that it had

recently come to her attention that her students, at the Guildhall School of Music and

Drama, “assumed that all that was being judged in their [jury] exams would be their

standard, normal playing. That if they did something really off the wall, that people

wouldn’t like it.” White asked her students why they thought this, and the students

pointed out that they had never seen White on the jury panel; she was shocked:

I was like, “yes, they ask me every year, but I’m not free!” It hadn’t crossed my mind that by not being available for the exam panel, that the signal was being given that my judgment—the judgements of the slightly off-the-beaten-track kind of people—were not the real ones. …[Now] I absolutely do my absolute best to say yes, and get there if I can, so that [the students] see that I’m sitting there, and whether I think this is good playing, is considered the validation mark by the college. … I try and be free as much as I can for that, just for the visual thing, of ‘a fruitcake was put on the panel, therefore fruitcakes count.’

White here speaks to the importance of representation; her students didn’t see her on the

panel, and thus felt that her opinion lacked real value. The fact that White self-identifies

as a “fruitcake” is a delightful detail—she clearly views her own work as divergent from

the norm within the classical music world—but her presence on the jury panel, and thus

the implied validation of her opinion, is an important symbol of equivalence among

musical styles and genres as well as gender.

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Kirsten Warfield didn’t have anything to add in the context of this question, but

earlier in the interview spoke about her relationship with music, stating, “my relationship

with music is way different than it was, even 10 years ago… [I’ve] changed my whole

perspective on it, and who I’m doing it for, and who I’m not doing it for.” Warfield

credits both anti-anxiety medication and her experience playing with the rock band Black

Masala for helping her change her perspective. Speaking about the medication, she

stated, “I changed what I was thinking… long before I did the drugs,” but went on, “you

do not realize how much anxiety you have until it’s gone.” Warfield expressed a sense of

freedom that had come from choosing to take anti-anxiety medication and said that her

advice to her younger self would be “you have anxiety. Take drugs.” Regarding her time

with Black Masala, Warfield spoke about a shift in priorities, compared with the

performing she had done prior to joining the band:

After my first gig with Black Masala, one of my band mates came up to me and said, “hey, did you have fun?” And I was like, God, I don’t know that anybody’s asked me that after coming offstage before. Did I have fun? Was that supposed to be the point? I guess it was...! It was a different world. It helped.

Warfield’s amazement that the concept of ‘fun’ would be relevant to a performance

relates to prior mentions of the competitive, high-pressure nature of music school; White

also spoke of not having fun as a student, wishing she could go back and enjoy herself.

Warfield’s experience performing in a non-classical context seems to have been an

effective coping mechanism for her, helping to remind her of the positive feelings

associated with playing her instrument.

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Jennifer Wharton had an answer specifically prepared for this question in the

interview, and encouraged musicians in general to approach new relationships with

optimism:

I would say, most people are awesome, that you’ll meet. Especially… as you get farther and farther down the road, I feel like more and more people are awesome. And if they [don’t seem] awesome, they’re probably awesome about certain things, you know? … I like to go in with the assumption that everybody is awesome, and just [find] what they’re awesome at.

Wharton went on to talk about the realization that not everyone she meets will end up

being a close friend, or even a close colleague:

I realize that I am not for everybody, but, I think… It doesn’t have to be a personal assault if someone doesn’t like me. I can still do my job and I can still work with them; we’re just not going to hang out. And I think, as women—at least, my experience as a woman—I have been caught up in people liking me, too much. In general, we could probably lose a little bit of that, if anybody is like me.

Wharton’s comments are reminiscent of Warfield’s advice to “get over your self-

conscious bullshit,” —both women advocate for self-acceptance in the face of challenges

both personal and within the professional trombone world. This advice is exceptionally

relevant for young women trombonists. Wharton’s honesty about her journey towards a

confident, self-accepting place could certainly help young women today, who may be

struggling with similar feelings, feel capable of making that journey themselves.

The three disparate observations from these interviewees do not seem to warrant a

comprehensive conclusion. Taken individually, however, each observation seems to be a

representative conclusion of each woman’s thoughts and perspectives. Emily White

seems less concerned about gender equity than she is about the well-being of her

students; Kirsten Warfield is committed to processing her own trauma and moving

forward creatively in her career; Jennifer Wharton is focused on the issues involved in

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being a working freelancer and challenging herself to be the best musician she can be.

Each woman represents a different lens through which to view the landscape of the

trombone world today. Such is the case with every woman trombonist interviewed in the

many other resources mentioned; each offers a perspective of the trombone world as they

see it, within their individual culture, during their specific time period, and from their

unique career identity.

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CONCLUSION

Emily White, Kirsten Warfield, and Jennifer Wharton each represent different

contexts of music-making, in different local cultures, on different career trajectories—

sweeping conclusions are difficult to make. However, all three have chosen to respond to

the challenges that face them, both large and small, in ways that project a sense of

strength. Young trombonists today can look to these women as strong, positive role

models, who exemplify a drive to succeed without sacrificing themselves or bending to

any expectations of traditional career pursuits.

Through these interviews, this document sheds light on issues facing female-

identifying trombonists today: gender-based microaggressions, the impact of these

microaggressions—and more overt gender discrimination—on emotional and mental

health, and the diverse coping mechanisms that develop in response. One theme emerges

as especially significant: the contrast between blatant, overt cases of gender

discrimination and subtle, everyday microaggressions.

When thinking of the topic of women trombonists and the obstacles they have

historically faced, Abbie Conant’s fight against the Munich Philharmonic comes quickly

to mind. Conant faced blatant sexism38 and interminable legal battles and has emerged a

triumphant force in the world of gender equality; many articles, books, and even films

have been created to tell her story. In contrast to such major cases, the daily slights and

vague insults that are more common today—and that were described by the women

interviewed for this document—can seem less than newsworthy, but they are insidious in

their prevalence. This document offers young trombonists the opportunity to see how

38 This sexism was largely at the hands of the orchestra’s conductor, Sergio Celibidache.

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professional women are currently navigating this issue, and to observe how the trend of

microaggressions exists at different intensities in different contexts, through the lenses of

the three interviewees.

This document represents a specific time in the lives of three specific women and

serves as a model for research that can be repeated in the future. Possibilities for further

work include follow-up interviews with the same women interviewed for this document,

or similar interviews with different women in different contexts. Trombonists identifying

with different underrepresented groups, such as the LGBTQIA+ community and the

BIPOC community, should be included in future research of this nature. The

contemporary perspectives that can be highlighted in this way are innumerable, and as

diverse as the musicians themselves. An interview-style podcast, blog, or website could

serve as a vehicle for further research, as could live interviews with guest artists in

masterclass-style settings. A series of articles in publications like the International

Trombone Association Journal could also serve as a means to continuing this work.

Ongoing investigation into the experiences of diverse trombonists can, over time,

build a framework for understanding the climate musicians now face through individual

accounts. This kind of investigation can also serve young trombonists by providing clear

examples of situations and experiences they might encounter in their future professional

environments, as well as wisdom from those who have already navigated the waters.

Referring back to Kirsten Warfield’s statement about being brought up without any

female role models, this document and future related research will serve to introduce

those role models to young trombonists today.

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REFERENCES DISSERTATIONS AND THESES Escher, Anna. (2014). Women in the Music Industry: Profiling Female Percussionists.

(Proquest Document ID 1560683009) [Masters thesis, University of Southern California]. Proquest Dissertations and Theses Global.

Hersey, Joanna Ross. (2006). “Such unfeminine instruments”: Women brass musicians in

America before 1940. (Proquest Document ID 304959825) [Doctoral thesis, Hartt School, University of Hartford]. Proquest Dissertations and Theses Global.

Kirkdorffer, Michele Burke. (2002). Trailblazers: American women orchestral oboists.

(Proquest Document ID 304790136) [Doctoral dissertation, University of Cincinnati]. Proquest Dissertations Publishing.

BOOKS, JOURNALS & FILMS

Black Music Research Journal Vol. 34, no. 1 (Spring), 2014.

Placksin, Sally. American Women in Jazz. New York, NY: Wideview Books, 1982.

Parkerson, Brenda. Abbie Conant: A Solo Among Men. Germany, 1994. This film appears under multiple titles, including "Along Among Men," "A Solo Among Men," and "Abbie Get Your Gun."

Sue, Derald Wing. Microaggressions in Everyday Life: Race, Gender, and Sexual Orientation. 1st ed. Hoboken, NJ: John Wiley & Sons, Inc., 2010.

Tucker, Sherrie. Swing Shift: "All-Girl" Bands of the 1940s. Durham, NC: Duke University Press, 2001.

BLOGS & WEBSITES

Ali, Safia Samee. “'Motherhood Penalty' Can Affect Women Who Never Even Have a Child.” NBCNews.com. NBCUniversal News Group, February 13, 2017. https://www.nbcnews.com/better/careers/motherhood-penalty-can-affect-women-who-never-even-have-child-n548511.

Amrine, Kate and Rebecca Epstein-Boley. Brass Chicks. https://www.brasschicks.com/

Amrine, Kate, and Rebecca Epstein-Boley. “Making Statements: An Interview with Abbie Conant.” Brass Chicks, January 23, 2018. https://www.brasschicks.com/2018/01/23/making-statements-an-interview-with-abbie-conant/.

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Amrine, Kate, and Rebecca Epstein-Boley. “Interview with Sarah Belle Reid.” Brass Chicks, May 17, 2018. https://www.brasschicks.com/2018/05/17/interview-with-sarah-belle-reid/.

Cherian, Rebecca. “Sexism in the Symphony: The Uphill Battle for Female Trombonists.” TED, March 2020. https://www.ted.com/talks/rebecca_cherian_sexism_in_the_symphony_the_uphill_battle_for_female_trombonists.

Pellegrinelli, Lara. “A DIY Guide To The History Of Women In Jazz.” NPR. NPR, May 10, 2013. https://www.npr.org/sections/ablogsupreme/2013/05/10/182885860/a-diy-guide-to-the-history-of-women-in-jazz.

Rauch, Arianna Warsaw-Fan. “I Used to Love Playing Violin. But Mastering It Broke My Heart.” The Washington Post. WP Company, March 1, 2019. https://www.washingtonpost.com/posteverything/wp/2016/12/02/i-used-to-love-playing-violin-but-mastering-it-broke-my-heart/.

Reusch, Sean. “An Artist's Corner.” trombone101. Accessed October 27, 2020. https://www.trombone101.com/artist-interviews-101.

Robinson, Bryan. “Pregnancy Discrimination In The Workplace Affects Mother And Baby Health.” Forbes. Forbes Magazine, July 11, 2020. https://www.forbes.com/sites/bryanrobinson/2020/07/11/pregnancy-discrimination-in-the-workplace-affects-mother-and-baby-health/?sh=2d9a446bcac6.

Warfield, Kirsten. “Blog: Kirsten Warfield,” August 17, 2019. https://kwarfield.wixsite.com/kirsten-warfield/blog.

Wharton, Jennifer. “Bonegasm.” Jennifer Wharton, August 17, 2020. https://jenniferwharton.com/music/bonegasm/.

ARTICLES

Bruenger, David. “Women at Work: Trombonists in North American Orchestras & Universities.” International Trombone Association Journal, Vol. 20, no. 2 (April 1992): 12–21. https://www.trombone.net/wp-content/plugins/trombone-journal/issueviewer.php?iss=56.

Schwantes, Marcel. “A New Study Reveals That Telling Women They Need to Smile Is Bad for Business. Here's Why.” Inc.com. Inc., September 13, 2019. https://www.inc.com/marcel-schwantes/a-new-study-reveals-that-telling-women-they-need-to-smile-more-is-bad-for-business-heres-why.html.

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Tonelli, Vanessa. “It’s How We Play: Professional Female Trombonists in the United States.” International Trombone Association Journal, Vol. 43, No. 3, (July 2015): 26-30. https://www.trombone.net/wp-content/plugins/trombone-journal/issueviewer.php?iss=3.

Yoon, Hahna. “How to Respond to Microaggressions.” The New York Times. The New York Times, March 3, 2020. https://www.nytimes.com/2020/03/03/smarter-living/how-to-respond-to-microaggressions.html.

PODCASTS

Cubides, Karen. “The Musician's Guide to Being Healthy, Wealthy, and Wise on Apple Podcasts.” Apple Podcasts, October 28, 2020. https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/the-musicians-guide-to-being-healthy-wealthy-and-wise/id1440699268.

Hitz, Andrew; LaDuke, Lance. “TBJ83: Trombonist Donna Parkes of the Louisville Orchestra on having a ‘Yes!’ attitude, sleeping bags and growing up in Australia.” The Brass Junkies Podcast. Podcast audio, April 17, 2018. https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/the-brass-junkies-podcast-pedal-note-media/id969120513?i=1000409058383.

Hitz, Andrew; LaDuke, Lance. “TBJ113: Rebecca Cherian on encouraging young women

players, the importance of allies and the Bernstein Bounce.” The Brass Junkies Podcast. Podcast audio, June 11, 2019. https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/the-brass-junkies-podcast-pedal-note-media/id969120513?i=1000441164789.

McInerny, Nora. Terrible, Thanks for Asking.

https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/terrible-thanks-for-asking/id1126119288.

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APPENDIX A.

EMILY WHITE INTERVIEW TRANSCRIPT

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This interview has been lightly edited for clarity.

Julia Broome-Robinson (J): Are you still able to teach the same way, virtually, or is it totally different? Emily White (E): Well, something I’ve been aiming for, for a long time, consciously, is to try and make my students—because I tend to teach older, like conservatoire students—I’ve been trying to get them to use their own judgement, and not be waiting for my approval. I’ve noticed that it’s been very hard to get them to trust that. But now, I’ve even slightly—[whispers] between you and me—faked bad connection. So I’ll say, “Oh, I couldn’t quite hear, were you in time that time?” Or like, “I’m sorry, I can’t really make out your tone quality, but are you happy with it?” Which is what I’ve been trying to get to. You know, is it the sound you like? Because if it is, we can move on. Of course they’re like, “but what she really means is, do you really think that’s good enough...?” But now there’s like a literal barrier, it means that they are on their own in their room going, “...yeah, I like it.” It’s changed things in that it’s made what I’m aiming for happen much more quickly. And they’ve also taken responsibility for what they’re going to do with this time. I’m like, “well this could be three months, what do you want to achieve in that time? When we come out the other side, what kind of player do you want to be, and how can I help you become that?” Shall I send repertoire or suggest things, but it’s like, their choice. [Normally], they’re like, “well, who cares, I’ve got a syllabus.” But now, they’re like, “well we’ve got nothing!” [laughs] So, it’s time to decide, “what do I want?” which is very powerful for them. J: If you had to summarize everything you do with music in a single ‘job title,’ what would you call yourself? E: I would call myself a freelancer. I think it’s the biggest unifying thing about everything that I do, and it’s an identity that I’m actually very proud of. In the UK, it’s quite a respected job title. I can’t say whether I’m a performer or a teacher, because my teaching has become so important to me, that to not call myself also a teacher, is to disregard half of me. I think about my teaching so much, even when I’m playing. I do feel really mainly a player, and yet... And yet. I think they are pretty much getting to be equal now. So I can’t decide between the two, but what I am with both, is freelance. Even though I’m employed by the Guildhall [School of Music and Drama] and the [Royal] Welsh College [of Music and Drama], and Wells [Cathedral School], I just get paid if enough people want me. So it’s the same scenario; if the product I give is interesting enough, people will pay to have it. If I stop being interesting, I won’t be employed. It’s the same scenario of being on your toes, and also, to a certain extent, completely free to choose what you spend your life on. If there’s a bully of a conductor, I don’t need to deal with him or her, or confront them, or change them...the choice is all mine. And it’s all mine with my teaching. I can tell my colleges—I mean, I wouldn’t want to do this to them—but I’m in the position where I could say, “I’ve only got time for three hours this year, so three students get a chance.” And they could say, “well these lot were signed up, do you have time for that?” And it’s up to me to reply back to them, “yes, I do have time. I’m prepared

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to make time for more.” Or I could say, “I’m really sorry but I can’t this year, I just don’t have the time to give.” So I feel very much like I’m riding my own horse. J: Do you like that feeling of being able to sort of, control all of it? Is that an ideal thing for you? E: Yes. It is, actually. Especially after many years, I’ve learned to trust that enough work will come, despite everything... despite Brexit. [laughs] I mean, the British classical music industry nosedived 20 years ago, and still, and still—I pay the bills, and have a very full diary. You just learn to trust. And I also think, mentally... now I’m in my 40s, I see that comrades of mine who got safe jobs are not mentally better off than those of us that have been [freelancing]. In fact, I’m saddened to see how much mental health difficulties there are for people—trombonists in particular—sitting in a job. It makes me sad, and sorry, but also... there’s something about thinking, “well, I literally won’t get any work if people don’t want to work with me.” But they obviously do, because they’re still asking me. One day I’m doing a little concert in a church, where no one even knows anything about who you are, you have absolutely no status, you’re basically one above a cleaner. Fine, that’s today, thank you! Tomorrow you’re at this festival hall and they go, “[gasps] Your solo was the best thing I ever heard!” And you go, “thank you.” That’s nice, it doesn’t mean I’m a god, it just means today, someone liked my work. Yesterday in the little church hall, they also liked my work. Good, that’s job done, go home, and think that actually, my sense of worth as a human is my business. It’s not related to what they say. It’s a really nice way of living, and I’ll retire when I want. J: It must be nice to have control over your own destiny that way. I’ve seen that too with, specifically folks in orchestra jobs—I haven’t noticed so much in college positions—but they don’t seem to be as—obviously generally, not specifically—but they don’t seem to be totally as full of life, as you might expect, for getting to play all that music. E: Yes. Yes. You do get security but “do I count?” Yes, “I’ve made it,” but that’s about all it brings you. And financially, certainly in the UK, most positions in orchestras are not particularly well paid. So, as a freelancer, if you choose to drive yourself hard, or you choose to seek film sessions and things, you can earn a lot more than having a held post anyway. So if it’s money you’re after, freelancing is not necessarily a ‘poorer’ option, unless you go for erudite recitals instead of film seasons, in which case [laughs], you’re rich if they’re not coming away! But, you know, you get other things... J: That’s so interesting, because I know that some of the salaries that you get for orchestra positions in the States are, like, quite high. So I can see it being a totally different scenario. E: Yeah. I mean, they do give you security I think. You know, [for] people having kids, it’s a different ballgame. You don’t want your whole future to rest on how well you play a top C, if you’ve stayed up all night changing nappies. You need to stay up on the right to have a job, you know.

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J: Why do you play music? What gets you up in the morning, or what keeps you going through difficult or stressful periods? Have you ever wanted to give up or change your career? Why didn’t you? E: The short answer to ‘why do I play music’: I feel it’s my voice. I feel heard, in a very profound way. Especially the kind of gigs I do, I have a chance to be really heard. I get to have some moments when it’s just me the whole audience is listening to. And I have a certain amount of leeway to do it the way I want, because I’m doing either contemporary music or sort of early, small chamber ensembles where I get to say how a sackbut sounds. But it’s also... I find there’s not a word for it, but there’s the opposite of lonely. It’s like, why not painting? Or why not—a lot of the paintings behind me here [gestures] are [from] my family, they’re all artists—they’re either artists or musicians. And I love art, I love sketching for fun and painting things, but, what I love about music is connecting with people. It sounds so cheap, but there’s something really profound. Like, I’m a lonely human or I’m a ‘something else’ human [laughs]. There isn’t a word for it in English but it’s the other thing, the kind of togetherness. When you’re on a platform and then there’s another musician there and you breathe and then you come together and then they go up and then you go up—[breathless]—you see, you can’t even describe how amazing that is. It’s like, you become a flock of birds that don’t need to decide things, you’re doing it all on radar or something. I find that wonderful. I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of that. J: That’s a beautiful way to describe it. E: But I just wish there was a word for it! Maybe we’d have to invent one... [laughs] But more pragmatically, I think growing up in a family of professional classical musicians is why I ended up seeing it as a career, because it’s the family trade. What was the second bit? J: The second bit was: what gets you up in the morning, or keeps you going during difficult periods? E: Well... I think my incredible greed. I have so many things I want to do, musically. Every time I’m home, I get to play music with my family, and they’re viola and French horn [players]. My mom is now, in her retirement, she’s doing piano as well. So, we’re doing like, Brahms trios, we’re doing string quartets, and my violin friend is there. So, if I’m home and I can’t be bothered to do the trombone, I don’t really notice that I’m having a bit of a [groans], because I go, “[gasps] Oh I can practice the Brahms! And then later, when we try it through I’ll actually be able to play the high bit!” So, I think that helps. What helps get me up in the morning is that there’s always seventeen things I would like to be doing. And, I’m lucky that I was given a really good warm up when I first started. So my chops generally work. Other colleagues have talked about those disheartening days, when you just can’t play anything. I don’t really have those days. And I think that’s just luck, that I was taught really well at first. I was quite old when I first learned [trombone], so I didn’t have anxieties put into me. [My teacher] gave me an

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embouchure that just works, and it’s never occurred to me that it’s hard. So that’s nice. I’ve noticed that now, in this Covid time, I’m running a warmup every morning, and therefore, my chops are in even better shape than normal. And it makes me realize that I had got a bit slack, I’d kind of picked up the sackbut and just done a gig, you know, and thought, “whatever.” And I hadn’t really noticed, but it was slightly bringing in the edges of what I could do. Now every morning I’m leading an half-an-hour warm up, [my playing is] expanding out again into, “oh yeah, lip trills and pedal notes.” So, I’ve had to not be too slack about it, but generally, I think what helps is that I don’t have those terribly duff mornings where nothing speaks. It generally speaks. And I suppose what gets me out of bed in the morning is that I really associate playing music with [pauses for a long moment] ...joy? I think? I think that’s true to say. And I think that’s where the freelancing comes in, that if there is an orchestra or a situation that depresses me... There was one orchestra leader who bullied other people; she was a violin leader. And I thought, she’s actually not bullying me, because she knows I also play trombone. And there’s a kind of threat to the brass [laughs]. So I was kind of not included, but I didn’t want to be around people’s souls being crushed. But again, I don’t need to deal with that, or make a huge palaver, or insult anyone; I just sort of backed off. Whereas I think if that was my job, and I had to face that every day, I can imagine that you get to the time when you can’t bear to get out of bed, and you just don’t want to play the instrument. But, as a freelancer you can just constantly be moving away from situations that bring destruction and move towards ones which are fruitful and loving. J: I keep saying the same thing, but I do think it’s really cool, to be able to have that choice in the matter, where you’re not stuck. E: Exactly. Choice is the thing, and freedom. And also, a country which is rich enough in music so that it’s even possible to run a career like this. I think a place like Australia and the States, it’s just so huge, and it’s just not that easy. J: I don’t know very many people over here at all that are doing the same kind of diverse things that you do, with contemporary and early—I mean, of course there are some. But it doesn’t seem... possible, the way that it does, when you look at how things work in the UK specifically. It’s like, “oh, that could actually work!” Whereas here, it’s like, well who would hire me? There’s no one doing anything interesting in my area. They’re hours and hours away if they are. E: It’s perhaps also that it is a very British thing to hide your expertise, and that kind of modesty or playing it down fits very well within the freelancing world. Whereas in other cultures like Germany, it’s like, either you’re a baroque specialist, or you’re like, ‘jack of all trades, master of none.’ Whereas implying, “well, I’m just dabbling,” but actually you’re, like, a really amazing hotshot—that’s a kind of British approach, which is very baffling to people not from Britain. But it means that if [someone says], “How odd, she does violin and trombone and sackbut,” it doesn’t necessarily dent your [reputation]. You’re not going, “I specialize in this one only thing at which I am world expert.” As soon as you say, “I’m world expert,” people are like [snickers]. Whereas if you say,

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“Yeah, well, I do loads of stuff, whatever. Whatever anyone pays me to do,” and then you turn up and—hopefully—do a dazzling job, that’s basically the best one they’d ever heard... So that’s the kind of, game [laughs]. J: That makes perfect sense. Then you can sort of get away with being well-rounded, if you will. E: Yeah, where in other cultures it might just look like you haven’t decided what to specialize in. J: Yeah! That’s really interesting. I hadn’t thought about it that way. … Have you ever wanted to change your career or give up on music entirely, and if it’s, “nope!” then that’s fine too [laughs]. E: No, I never have. I did give up the violin once, because I was at a specialist music school, and at 14 I felt I had to choose. Partly because the school isn’t set up—it’s still not, I teach there now—it’s not set up to really accommodate people that want to take both instruments seriously. Because the different departments are in different parts of town, and then you’ve got symphony orchestra, and it’s really important to you to play in symphony orchestra on a brass instrument, but if you’re a violinist they want you as their rank-and-file to fill the numbers. And there aren’t two concerts, so you know. So I ended up in the trombone department for the Prokofiev and back to the violins for the Mozart and it wasn’t very easy. So in the end I gave up the violin, and it was really horrible. I hated being without the violin, but I took it up again ten years later. J: Do you think that that’s specific to the UK? I feel like I’ve experienced a similar kind of thing in the States. E: What, that you have to choose? J: That they make it—it’s not impossible, but it’s way more difficult to specialize in two things to the same level. E: I think, partly it’s because it doesn’t suit the institution. And what they want is what’s useful for them. I think all institutions are the same. “It would be useful for us to have you in the cello department,” [or] “it’d be useful for us to have you playing the triangle.” So they don’t really ever put the kids first, but they can’t necessarily if they’ve got a program to put on of Bruckner. So I think it’s like a tension, but also in a way, I agree. If I’d known that it wasn’t going to be forever I would’ve been less grieving, but I really missed violin, even though it was my choice. It broke my heart. If someone had said, “it doesn’t need to be forever, but right now it’s going to be a heck of a lot easier to ride one horse at a time. Hold that love for the violin, and it can flourish later,” I probably wouldn’t have believed them, because teenagers don’t. When I was studying violin at music college, I was working full time freelancing on the trombone, and that was possible. Because I’d go out and play my trombone gigs, having learnt lots from the

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violin, about playing the trombone. They can’t stop each other, and my trombone gigs paid the fees for the studying. But, I was performing trombone, not learning it. So I think that was good, that I was studying violin—I was inhaling information about the violin—and then giving out on the trombone. Whereas if I was trying to learn about this and trying to learn about that... I think it could’ve been quite complicated. So maybe studying one thing at a time is just more practical, and just keep the other one tickling along enough, so that you’ve got an instrument, or chops, or something left at the end, when you just decide to go back and revisit the other thing. J: I’m glad you picked back up the violin, obviously. E: Me too, me too. It’s made me love the trombone more, as well. I don’t find any fault with the trombone now. I think it’s beautiful, and funny. The occasional conventional gigs I do on the trombone, when I sit in a modern orchestra with a modern instrument, I just think, “this is brilliant.” And you get to play a few notes, they’re not very clever, they’re not very complicated, but you play a few notes together in this beautiful way, and then you listen to everyone else, and you take your paycheck, and you think, “great!” But there was a time when I thought that was all I would have. You know, as an expressive human being, is this all I am? And I don’t even get to say how I want those chunky chords to go, I have to fit with the expectations of the section. Whereas once the violin came on the scene, it was like it answered my desire—because I was sort of trying to be massively expressive with my three chunky chords, which is not relevant, and not necessarily what the job wants. It’s all simplicity, and acceptance, and [takes a breath in and exhales, as though playing a big chord]. Sometimes that’s all you need to do. So if I’ve done solo Bach all morning, or even performed it in a concert the day before, because I’d put on my own concert or something, you know, you’ve had the ultimate solo, virtuosic, unbelievably brilliant repertoire, then you’re happy to go sit in orchestra and play a C. It helps, as well, the fear—because I see that as trombonists get older, the fear kicks in: sitting in an orchestra and suddenly it all goes quiet and you’ve got your one C to play. And it frankly doesn’t feel like a big deal, if you stood there and played—like my first go at doing the ‘Erbarme dich’ [from Bach’s St. Matthew’s Passion] in a concert, I was like, “[gasps] I can’t believe it’s just me!” It’s just like those nightmares you have where you’re meant to be a concerto soloist on an instrument you don’t play, except I do play it, and it’s today! [laughs] And the next day you’re sitting in the orchestra and you’ve got a C to play, and you go [exhales as though playing a long note]. And then people go “don’t you get nervous?” and you go, “well, I did yesterday, for this unbelievably exposed and difficult and unbelievably high violin solo, but not for today, no.” [laughs] J: Given what you’ve learned in your career so far, what would you do differently if you could do it over, and/or, what advice would you give to your younger self? E: The only thing I can think of that I’d do differently is, I would say it was good to stop the violin then. Especially because—no offense to the teacher that was there—but, it was all about [growls] “get it right, or I think you are useless!” And not engaging with that

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has really helped me, because I’m a really happy violinist, and most violinists have a certain level of self-loathing. And I don’t. And I think it’s because I just stopped at the right time. I took a great big gap, just when I was meant to learn that I am but scum on the earth. So I wouldn’t say I regret stopping [violin], but what I’d do differently is acknowledge that it wasn’t forever. Because there were ten years of grieving that were unnecessary, wasted emotion. I mean, I made a couple of classic boobies about how to behave in gigs, but I learnt from them, so again, would I say I wish I’d not done them? Well, I’m glad I learnt them early on. What not to say, to take cash to pay off your travel costs, and understanding how that all works. [laughs] Like those kind of things. Don’t put someone as a referee without asking them first—how could I have not realized, but I really didn’t! These classic blunders. But, I learnt from them, so I can’t say they’re huge regrets. They’re moments I look back on and think, oh my goodness, we’ve all needed to learn, at some point. I would say, I wish I’d enjoyed—that I’d been aware earlier of how much fun life is. I was very, very serious, especially at school. Wells [Cathedral School]—very serious music school, very intense, the academy... I just worked really, really, really hard. I didn’t really have fun. I mean, I had one night out where I went to a nightclub and was ill on the floor and was taken home in a taxi [laughs], but that’s really it for four years, and it wasn’t really—not that I’d think, you know, wild boozing, but just generally lying in the sun, with some friends, having a laugh. I’ve learnt to do that as an adult! I didn’t really do it as a student. And I was so loyal, and also compliant, that I had no time to rest, breathe out—you know, life is so joyous. And I didn’t realize, when I was a student. So I’m sorry, in a way, that I wasted all that lovely youthful time with great musicians around me basically frowning and being intense and trying really, really hard. J: I see so many undergrads—and obviously when I was an undergrad I did the same thing—where you’re like, “I have to practice 9,000 hours a day, and I have to be better than everyone else.” And if you’re not in a practice room, [it feels like] you’re a horrible person, and you should feel bad. The older I get and the farther I get from that kind of feeling, of like, endless shame, at your lack of effort, I can see it in the younger freshman and sophomores, or first- and second-years that come in. [I’ve seen] a number of students end up leaving [music school] for mental health reasons, after a year or two, because it was just, like, too much for them. And it’s really sad, to see that. E: I never realized, when I started teaching at conservatoire, how much I would be thinking about my students’ mental health. Constantly. Like generally, watching in horror, thinking, “how on earth can I help?” Whereas the children that I teach at Wells [Cathedral School] seem quite happy, and I’m basically teaching them trombone. [laughs] Whereas for the conservatoire students, I’m mainly thinking about managing their anxiety, or their fear, or their shame, or their workaholism, or their self-sabotage, or their ‘hiding-from-what-they-really-need-to-look-at,’ or... It seems to me, 90% of my teaching is that. J: That’s such a high percentage. I’m not surprised, but it’s too bad. E: I’m possibly exaggerating, I just sort of sling it out there with a number, but yeah. It feels like that.

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J: Even as a teaching assistant, watching these poor kids, and knowing that you can’t really cross a certain boundary to help them. You can only do as much as you can as a teacher, but obviously you don’t want them to fling themselves off the bridge, or whatever, because they can’t play the trombone. It’s kind of nuts... it’s really, crazy. [long pause from both] J: Anyway, that’s depressing. E: Yeah. [laughs] Let’s move on, let’s go back to happy questions. J: Talk about how your gender has intersected with your musical career at any stage. Is there a specific situation, dynamic, interaction, opportunity or obstacle that comes to mind? E: I know it’s annoyingly to be ridiculously positive the whole time, but it has been, for me in particular, I think an advantage, of being the non-typical gender for my instrument. Specifically in [the UK], because when I work abroad, especially in other countries in Europe, I notice that their gender politics are way behind the UK, when it comes to the trombone. It’s very much not an issue here. The first female principal trombonist was during the Second World War. And she’s only just died actually, at age 100 or whatever she was, and she was totally revered by us all. The most recent trombonist to win the Young Musician of the Year [a British national music competition] was a girl. This pretty young blonde thing, was taught by this lady in her 90s, or whatever she was, she was still teaching. So I mean, she’s an iconic, respected establishment. Her stance was of utter modesty. She’s very religious, so she was not, um—she’s always say, “Oh, I just got the job because all the men were at war,” and I think she meant that. She was genuinely modest, but it meant that other people would come and say, “excuse me, she was amazing.” All those other people were men, so she’s been championed by all the male players her whole life, which is a very nice basis. And, my mother is a brass player, she’s a horn player. So when I grew up I didn’t know it was a minority sport. And, you know, principal of BBC Symphony Orchestra is a woman, principal of the Hallé [Orchestra] is a woman, it’s very, very common here, not just to be a female player, but to be in a high position, in a leader position. So, for that reason it’s not really a big deal. But also, I think the behavioral expectations of being in a trombone crew are lifted for the woman, in a way. Like, I can be how I want. Some women are right lads, and are really good with their, like, genital jokes, and the beer. [laughs] I’m always going, “look, I don’t really understand...” [and the men] are like, “don’t worry. Take it from me, it’s a rude joke, you don’t need to know it.” Like, it’s accepted that I’ve got my nose in a Jane Austen novel, or I’m sketching, or when I talk to them it’s going to be able how their kids are doing at school, not jokes about, how big are the tits on that girl. It’s not really like that anymore, but some people engage with that, and I think as a guy—and the drinking—you have to kind of... I’ve noticed that a lot of them have to say, “oh, I’m on the wagon.” As in, I’m giving up alcohol, rather than just saying, “oh I don’t really fancy a beer, it’s only eleven

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in the morning. Why would I want a beer now?” Whereas I can just say, “yeah, I really fancy a whiskey!”—or, my normal one, which is— “ooh, chamomile tea!” And they’ll get me a chamomile tea, and I can stay in the pub and watch the football with everyone, drinking chamomile tea, or I can say, “oh, I rather read my novel with my feet in the air,” do some yoga, or sketch a flower. And no one has ever made me feel—I mean, maybe there’s orchestras that don’t book me, because of that, but I don’t know about it, and I don’t care. I mean, if they require you to be up for getting Larry by eleven in the morning I don’t want to be in the orchestra anyway, so. My feeling on this is very mixed because a couple of things could have been unpleasant for me, but because I was wearing my ‘cloak of immunity,’ they didn’t harm me. And now I’m thinking about my students, my 18-year-olds, vulnerable girls going off, and I think, “what if it’s not alright for them? Are they as invulnerable as me?” I think what made me invulnerable was, for a start, I had an amazing—I do have an amazing family. I have parents, who have always established a sense of self respect, for myself. They’re not the sort of family that would expect me to go along with anything I wasn’t comfortable with. My own opinion and my own feelings have always been valued in the family. So, I’m not likely prey for someone who persuades you that you need to sexually service someone to get work from them. That just wouldn’t work on me. But there are plenty of people who are vulnerable, and I know that that sort of things did happen to other girls of my age group, and that breaks my heart. I don’t see why they should’ve been made to do that. And if I know of any crimes, I will... it makes me very angry, and I would go to the police. I would tear down anyone who would use music to do such a thing. But you just hear about it in stories, at the time. I find it all very sad, but those things weren’t done to me, so this is probably why I’m still playing, because to me, it’s still something I associate with joy and freedom. I don’t think I would, if I’d been subject to that kind of thing. And I think also, it’s luck? That I’ve always been, sort of a skinny rake, who just does their own thing. Whereas, you know, if you’re a voluptuous, beautiful woman, who’s triggering all these blokes, and they wolf whistle at you the whole time, and they’re saying, “get yer tits out,” the whole time... You know, life is not fair. And that was not the sort of thing that ever happened to me. Like, lucky me, but doesn’t mean it’s fair for all the other women. J: No, and obviously, these men shouldn’t behave that way anyway. E: No, they shouldn’t. J: I haven’t really experienced anything specifically [in the realm of] gender-based discrimination. I feel similarly to what you’re describing, where I’ve had comments here and there, but nothing really earth-shattering. And obviously I don’t want to invalidate any women that have! E: That’s the thing. I also feel that the behavior of—I keep saying British, because I know that each culture is different, for their attitude—but in Britain, the cultural behavior in trombone teams is incredibly supportive. Whether you’re male or female, there’s an expectation that you look after the team, that there’s three of you, and you work out where you’re going to go and eat, and you come to a mutual compromise, and you

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politely talk about something where you can all join in. Kind of very collegiate team-like behavior, which protects most people, whatever funny issues they might have, or in whatever way they don’t normally fit in. They’re generally carried by the section, I find, socially. Whereas—being rude here, but—pointing at trumpet players, I don’t think it’s like that for them. I think within a trumpet department or in the trumpet section, there’s much more potential to be given a thoroughly nasty time. It’s not an environment that’s particularly warm and supportive, whereas I think trombones really are, and the people that don’t behave [supportively] tend to not get booked. People that are openly knifing out for their colleagues, or sneering, or mocking people for having a bad time with their playing, or any of those kind of things, people don’t want to work with them. Certainly not in freelancing... I think in terms of how much gender intersects with my job, I think being in the trombone department, as opposed to any other, is more of an identity for me than ‘female.’ My ‘animal’ is that I’m a trombone. When I play violin, I love the music of it, but I bring my animal of being a trombone to the section. So on a gig, I behave like a trombonist in the violin section, which is going down really well, because it means having fun and being a team player and including everyone, so everyone likes that. The quirk for me, in my life, is that I’m a violinist as well as a trombone, rather than that I’ve got female reproductive organs. J: Yeah, I could see the violin part being way more consequential, depending on the situation. E: Yeah! Socially, being a female trombonist, it’s like, “oh, it’s a slightly unusual version of the machine we all know, which is a trombonist.” But being a violinist? A string player? Oh my god! [laughs] How does that even work? What do you eat? How do you pay your bills? All of these things are different; your diet is different, your attitude to going to a restaurant is different. It’s funny. J: This is kind of a similar question, but have you been treated differently from your male colleagues or competitors at any point, but you sort of answered that— [it sounds like] not really. E: Not that I know of—of course, I don’t know what it’d be like if I were... because I’ve never tried being a man. I’ve often wondered if it’d be fun to do that. I know someone that did a drag king course. They did it for work reasons, for an acting role or something—I think they were a singer. And they said it was so interesting, because they went down the pub afterwards, still in their male guise, and they were treated so differently. I thought, that would be interesting to try. I mean, there are some really funny moments... one of them, where a really big trumpet player—again, trumpets—grabbed me, tipped my head back, and poured vodka over my face, before a concert, because he was trying to make me drunk. I had my lips shut, but the vodka was just flowing over my face. J: That’s horrifying!

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E: And he was so big, that I honestly couldn’t do anything, you know, because he was giant. And the first trumpet—this was the second trumpet, and he was completely wasted, he was really, really drunk—and the first trumpet was tiny, but was really, really good at controlling this guy, and he went, “stop!” and this guy let me go. And they were like, “we’re really sorry, really sorry!” And I’m like, wiping the vodka off my face, like, “it’s okay. Well, thanks for stopping him,” and then we went on stage! And this guy was, like, so drunk he hadn’t got socks on and stuff, and I was like, “why are we... [trails off]” But again, it was an orchestra from a different country, sort of not my business, but it’s like, if that’s my orchestra, I don’t want to live with that. I wouldn’t work alongside that kind of behavior. But for a one-off gig? I was their guest principal trombone. J: Oh my gosh. You were the guest principal and they treated you that way... or at least, that one guy did. E: Yeah, and in fact, that same orchestra, when I first turned up, first day—I hadn’t thought it through, I didn’t realize it was a big deal—but I was in like, a pink sundress? Because it’s boiling hot, and I’d walked all the way there, so I was really sweaty. And I sat down, in the principal seat, in the first day in this patch of work, and they all leant across me to shake hands—because they always shake hands at the beginning of the day’s work—but they didn’t shake hands with me. And I was like, “hello?” And in the end, they were so friendly. By the end of the project, it was all kisses and hugs, but day one, they were like, “well, I dunno what to do, but I’m certainly not gonna [sic] shake hands with this one.” But again, if that was what I’d worked with the whole time, I’d find that really hurtful, but that was just visiting an orchestra in a different country, and I was there thinking, “is this what they’re like over here?” It didn’t destroy my sense of self, it made me think, “what an odd culture!” J: I wonder if it was because of your gender, or because you were just a new person, that they didn’t know. E: Well, I think they were really shocked at the gender, because people came up to me then and said things like, “I have never seen a woman holding a trombone before!” And I said, “well, this is what it’s like.” [laughs] J: Well, I’m glad it’s not that way most of the time! E: No, it’s really not. J: What advice would you offer to young players seeking a successful career in music, and how about young women specifically? If the advice is not different based on gender that’s also fine. E: Generally, the thing that I think that young players could do with knowing earlier than they do, is that, until the moment they kind of leave college and want gigs, everything has been about them, including their lessons, their exams, their orchestral playing. It’s like,

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“am I sounding impressive, is my concert really good, are my lip trills coming on, is my high range improving?” And the moment you leave and you’re on a gig, nobody cares. That’s no longer the relevant question. It is to you, but to nobody else. Nobody else, from now on, cares about that. All they care is, today’s job. Basically—well, certainly as a trombonist—it’s like, have you made it easy for everyone around you to do their job really well. And that includes playing your notes really well, that includes, yes, you need to turn up and play well, because if you start putting spoony mistakes in, that makes everyone’s job... but really, the only reason—in terms of getting fixed again—the only reason they want you to not go wrong, is because it’ll put them off. Whereas until then, it’s like “am I good?” And no one cares anymore! It’s just, have you made it possible for them to be good. And then that switch, of feeling that you have a responsibility. Even in a recital. Your final [university] recital, it’s all about you. But the next recital you give, it’s all about your public. You know, have you taken them on a nice arc, are you playing pieces that they’ll really enjoy hearing, is this an experience for them that’s going to work really well. And I don’t think that that’s thought of enough in advance. Do they deserve to hear me struggle through a piece I can hardly manage? If it’s your final [university recital] and you want to choose that, that’s really up to you. You have the right to put that in your final. The only consequence is yourself. But the moment you’re in a public concert, who cares about whether you’ve managed to play it or not, but poor audience! I mean, god, you wouldn’t put them through that! Or, if you turn up to a gig, and you belittle the other player, because he’s struggling. He’s an old guy, and he’s struggling, and you do a really impressive warmup next to him, and show everyone that you can do a better job. What are you thinking!! You’ll never get booked again! They all love old Tommy, he’s been in that job for 48 years, you belittled him, you put him off, you’re the last person they’re going to want to have in their orchestra next time. I just think the young players don’t realize that that is how you get permanently written out. It’s not because you played badly, it’s because you chose to make it harder for other people to do their job. Honestly, I’ve had students... one of them had a go at the principal trombone, saying that she—this female principal—was playing the wrong choice of instrument, and he—the male student—knew that she should be playing a different kind of instrument. And he told me about this, and he honestly thought that I’d be impressed that he knew more about historical relevance, whether you should play alto or tenor, than her. And I’m like, “please don’t tell me you told her I’m your teacher.” Like, you’ve just made yourself never, ever get extra work with that orchestra again. Can you not see how rude that is? And he’s like, “yeah but, I was right!” And I’m like, “it’s not about being right!” J: I can’t believe he didn’t realize! E: I know. But that’s why, now, I’m a bit more hardcore with my students, because once they’ve made that blunder it’s too bloody late. I’m like, “Ahh! What can I tell you now, other than you’ve blown it, mate.” Honestly, that story got passed around everywhere. I mean, not by me—I hate that idea, because I’ve made so many mistakes myself—but nothing could be funnier, than laughing at this student. And of course, he then got lost in the gig. So, he’s going wrong in the gig, and having mocked and criticized the principal... I mean, it’s like, young people do this, thinking they’re being impressive. [They’re

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thinking,] so what if they got lost, but they still made a better sound on their top C, or whatever, and it’s like [sighs]. I desperately want to protect students from making those mistakes in their first outings. And to women in particular... trombonists in particular... I’d say... again—I never want to sound like I’m blaming women for things that happen to them. But. [sighs] What it reminds me of is, there’s a paper called ‘The Big Issue,’ and it’s like begging, but you’re not begging, you sell it. It’s a way of helping homeless people. They sell this magazine. And there’s a guy who’s from Romania, and it’s like nobody told him that, in British culture, we don’t really respond to desperation. Or pleading. It makes us kind of irritated. And I’ve never known how to tell him, because he never gets anyone to buy his magazine, and I can see he’s like, “why? Why?” He goes, “I’m so hungry, I’m cold, will you not help me.” And everyone’s like [put off]. It’s like, I don’t blame him, that no one’s buying his magazine. I think, poor guy... I mean, god, he’s desperate. But if only someone said, “look, for right or wrong, the way to get the Brits to buy it is to go, ‘morning!’, ‘cheeky day!’, ‘have a nice time, my dear!’” You know, be really jolly, even if you don’t feel it. And if they buy your magazine, “thank you very much! Looks like you’ve got a lot of shopping today!” And they say, “are you cold?” and you say, “well it’s not as bad as yesterday!” Like, [makes a retching sound], but that’s what works, I wish someone had told him. So it’s more like, I don’t judge women, but I find that, young women are often angry by the time they come to work in the profession. And this anger, and this desire to criticize other players, is a terribly destructive thing. Again, because it’s like, who wants that in their section? And I do not think that women should feel they need to please, of course. But I think all trombonists, generally, are looking for a common ground, where the people around them feel comfortable enough to play well. That’s what all good trombone sections do. And I think, you know, right on, feminist, strong, powerful women! I love that, and I admire it so much, and I think if that can go hand-in-hand with seeing what’s good about the kind of male-style team, which is, we’re all in it together, we all say we’re great—even if we’re having a bit of a difficult day, we say we’re great even more so that we overcome our fears. We go to the pub together even if we’re going to drink mineral water—that’s fine, drink your mineral water, I always do, no one ever complained. But that kind of, comfortable, kind of... if someone’s struggling, you find a way of making a joke of it, rather than going [exasperated sigh]. You say, “well, I think we’re doing alright!”—and I find it can be quite a female thing to go, “no we’re not. Can’t you hear we’re really out of tune?” And I’m like, “yes I can! But going on about it isn’t exactly helping.” I find that the self-criticism of women—it’s not just women—but I find that women generally are very self-critical. And they then turn to criticizing other people as well. Most of my male trombone colleagues never criticize another player. Like, never. I’ve had violin friends try and make me, like “tell me! Who’s good and who’s bad?” and I just don’t want to engage with that. It’s not like I don’t know it, but privately in my group, when we’re fixing—we tend to not write it, we tend to phone each other and say, “I don’t think this gig’s going to suit so-and so,” and they’ll say, “why not?” and you go “[makes an uncomfortable, strained sound] Well, to be honest, it’s the high pitch, and they’re not really fluent at really high pitch.” I think when you’re fixing, for your own band, you have to be very honest. But you do it privately, and you make sure no one hears you, and you certainly don’t make a thing of it. And I have seen female colleagues engage in criticism more, of people around

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them, and inside I’m cringing. I’m going, “you’re laying yourself open, to being, not the person they want to sit next to on the gig.” And they’re puzzled as to why, and then feeling resentful, that it’s sexism. And, when it comes to criticism, I don’t think it is. Certainly not the culture that I’m in. I don’t think men criticize and then still get booked; I think nobody who criticizes, still gets booked. But I think the men are more aware of this kind of ‘we’ll never really say anything’ [culture]. I’m thinking of some specific situations where women have not been booked, and when people have been asked to articulate why—like I say, people don’t often articulate [why]—but in both cases, these two separate women, were critical of their colleagues and made them feel inadequate and uneasy, and unhappy, and they weren’t wanted in the section for that reason. Not because of playing. And I’ve never heard anybody—again, maybe I’m oblivious—I’ve never heard anybody say, “oh, we can’t have her because she’s too square,” or, “she doesn’t booze it up or go to a nightclub,” or something. Maybe that happens, but it’s not something I’ve come across—I wouldn’t ever say the women need to learn to be jolly and go to nightclubs, no, no, no. But I think, looking at what the men do really well—men in a kind of loose term, but the kind of typical male environment of the trombone section—and saying, what’s good about that. What can we emulate in that that’s good, while maintaining our sense of being absolutely true to ourselves? And I think what we are, is always there for each other. Women haven’t been culturally brought up to expect team behavior. You know that kind of team bonding, the kind of ‘rugby club,’ and ‘we’re in it together,’ and ‘we wear logo clothes,’ and it’s all about, “us, the Blues! Us, the Blues!” And I think certain trombone teams are like, “it’s us, it’s us, it’s us!” and you’re in a huddle, and you’re there for each other. In that environment, you’re not going to go [exhales judgmentally] when someone makes a mistake. I think the women sometimes don’t realize how much men are there to support us—to support all of us. [The women] feel alone, and they feel that they have to fight back... and I think it’s a shame. I think fighting back against certain other things—conductors, for example [laughs]—get fighting! Management who want to pay women less than men [for example]. I’m really, really political when it comes to these things. I just think the environment not to be like that is a trombone section, and that sometimes I’ve seen brilliant, well-meaning, lovely women lose out on work, because they haven’t quite clocked that in time. And it breaks my heart as well. Because it’s unnecessary. I’ve never actually broached that with students, because I find it so hard to put it articulately—as you can tell! —and also without, in any way, implying men are better, because of course they’re not. But some of the way they behave in the team is healthy and helpful, and doesn’t need to be combatted or fought, but just joined in with! Things like financial support—I find that the trombone sections support each other financially. If someone’s off sick, or if someone’s an alcoholic and needs to be protected, people like, team up. And when I was off work, when my husband was really ill, I got checks through the post, from the gigs I would’ve been doing. The players who’d been doing my gigs sent me the checks. J: That’s really incredible.

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E: It’s wonderful, isn’t it. It’s a kind of team spirit thing, that I really love. It’s about, “you’re one of us, and we’ll love you and support you.” Not, “oh, you’re impressively brilliant today.” J: That’s awesome. That sense of community is not something I have ever been aware of, really. That’s really impressive. E: It’s really nice. J: I—and obviously it’s a totally different context, but—most of the other women trombonists I’ve played with have actually been the ones who are less likely to criticize. They don’t speak up. If they hear something’s wrong, they’re never going to say it. Ever. Which is really interesting, and obviously it’s a generalization, for sure. I don’t know if there are other factors at play, but I have very rarely encountered a female trombone that has that issue, of being the first one to tell somebody that they’re out of tune, or whatever it is. E: That’s interesting. People being afraid to speak, whatever their gender, is not a great thing. But, I’m not a fan of criticism as a tool for excellence. I think, if someone is incapable of hearing that they’re out of tune, in a gig, I think you probably carry them through the day, as well as you can, you maybe say, “I’d like to listen to that chord, should we all join in on it,” and then you don’t book them again. And if you really love them and you want them to get more work, but you can’t because they’re so out of tune, you might have a very difficult private conversation with them...! [laughs] But I never found pointing out, on the podium, to someone, that they’re wrong or out of tune, is anything more productive than telling someone they’ve got bad breath. It’s just humiliation. J: What opportunities or resources would you like to see made available for female-identifying trombonists? For example, what do you think about the value of various resources? E: It really depends on different countries, and different cultures. Because I’ve had such different experiences in Europe, I think there’s possibly a lot more fighting and shouting that needs to be done, in other countries. Like, women are bloody here, okay! We need to do some more, “[we’re] behind a screen, can you hear us? We’re just as loud!” You know, some really basic, angry, fight-y, shouting. But in the context of what I see in the UK, I think it’d be really interesting to have a forum where people can honestly speak, and maybe making it women only, or women-identifying people only, just so that the men don’t have to listen to things that might make them feel accused, and therefore defensive. Because I do see a backlash, the whole Me Too backlash... It’s nice to be very nuanced about what we deliver to the wider world, which is the 48% that are men, or whatever. [laughs] (The wider world, who’s not female.) I don’t think the accusatory tone is necessarily helpful...The first thing it does is make people [tense up]. Also, I think it would be nice to encourage us to be one unit. The more we’re corralled into ‘here’ and

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‘there’... I mean, the only group I never felt comfortable in was called ‘Women in Brass,’ and it was a German-based group, and it was all female players, with a male director. And it just, smelt wrong, you know? There were really good players, I really admired them, but we weren’t that great. It didn’t gel as a group. It’s like [putting] all the Ginger-haired comedians in a room, and make a show, just to prove that Ginger people can be funny too. I mean, you can just tell that’s going to fail before you even start. So, I’ve always been very nervous of corralling people together [based on] gender, but on the other hand, it would nice to have a conference in which I could say that! And I would also want to say, when you tap into all that great about men, they can be your colleagues, your comrades. Having the women in there gives them a chance to discuss their children; it doesn’t need to be all football. We can genuinely just be ourselves—tah dah! And actually, unless the men are predatory, or total assholes, they’ll just go, “hello!” I mean, if we shrink like this, and they don’t realize, because they’re just calmly being themselves, entitled and happy—rather than make them anxious too, can’t we just be entitled and happy too? Turning up to a gig and [thinking], “oh, they’re so lucky I’ve come, aren’t they?” I mean, they are! “I did a fine job, I don’t need to be a perfectionist, it doesn’t need to be the best thing they’ve ever heard. It was fine! We had a good day, great curry,” and then you go home! And that’s enough! That’s enough for anyone, male or female. J: I had a question about something you said—with the all-female groups, and the one that you were in specifically... I also have found them to be sort of off-putting, and it feels sort of ...forced? Not every time, obviously, but almost every time. When I see, “we are a female brass group,” or whatever else—I wouldn’t want to broadcast this to everyone on the planet, but—I’ve never heard one that stunned me, with their musicality or their ability or anything like that. They’re never really amazing. E: Yeah, and I’m yet to find a string quartet, unless they’re like, strippers or something, who say, “we’re the all-male string quartet.” They just are a string quartet, aren’t they, whatever they’ve got? I don’t think we need to have a gimmick to hang our brass groups on. J: Exactly. Like, just be good. And hopefully have a good time. E: Yeah. Be what you want to be, and hopefully people want to pay to hear you. J: It’s super interesting to notice the different cultural things. A lot of the things you’re describing are new to me. I’m really glad that, generally, you haven’t had much negative [stuff] happening. You just have been able to be who you want to be without obstacles. That’s really awesome, and great. E: I feel very lucky. But also, I think it’s just possible. I want people to know it’s possible—men and women, because I think some guys take a long time to blossom into they really are. They spend so long trying to be the player they think they should be wanting to think they should be. [laughs]

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J: That’s a beautiful sentiment. Is there anything else that you’d like to talk about or share? E: Um. I don’t think so—except how much fun this is. I think keeping talking is good. About, what is life like as a musician—as a freelancer. I think very few people are asking us this. It’s a really interesting thing to ask—whether brass players, gender, early musicians, modern musicians—it’s all interesting. I think it’s a brilliant project, I really look forward to reading all your other interviews and what they say. J: Oh good, I’m so glad! And apart from the gender aspect, I am very interested in the sort of ‘non-traditional career,’ if you will, or the making-your-own-choices thing. I’ve encountered a lot of young players—even in my limited time encountering them—that they really think there’s only a couple of ways to be successful, and it’s sad! They think that if they don’t fit into this one mold, it’s sort of over before they’ve ever started. E: I noticed, at the Guildhall [School of Music and Drama], they have a very eclectic bunch of trombone teachers. They’ve chosen to have me, and they’ve got John Kenny, and they’ve got Eric Crees, who’s second trombone in the opera house, so absolutely establishment. They’ve got Simon Wells, who is very much a thinker, and composes as well, and his lessons are often... you spend the whole thing thinking about the concept of rhetorical expression or something; he’s one of those kind of teachers. [laughs] And there’s a very kind of conventional guy as well, Chris Holding, who coaches on the National Youth Orchestra, a kind of ‘trombone standard’ approach. Even so, the students assumed that all that was being judged in their exams would be their standard, normal playing. That if they did something really off the wall, that people wouldn’t like it. And I said, “well why do you think that?” And they said, “well, they never have you in the panel, do they?” And I was like, “yes, they ask me every year, but I’m not free!” It hadn’t crossed my mind that by not being available for the exam panel, that the signal was being given that my judgment—the judgements of the slightly off-the-beaten-track kind of people—were not the real ones. And I thought, “oh my goodness!” That’s one of those things, I hadn’t thought about how students think. And, I can’t always make myself free, but now I really try and accept when they say, “do you want to fit in this one mid-year exam?” I absolutely do my absolute best to say yes, and get there if I can, so that [the students] see that I’m sitting there, and whether I think this is good playing, is considered the validation mark by the college. [The college has] even got me on the teaching panel, but [the students] still think that only a conventional approach is what counts, because I wasn’t in judgment on them. If [the students] hadn’t told me that, I wouldn’t have realized! To be honest, I always hate sitting in judgment, but now I try and be free as much as I can for that, just for the visual thing, of ‘a fruitcake was put on the panel, therefore fruitcakes count.’ J: [laughs] You’re not a fruitcake! E: Well!? [laughs]

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J: I hadn’t thought about that either, that they are noticing who is put on the panel and making conclusions. E: That’s the thing, as a teacher you don’t notice. And the other one: a friend of mine—I get a lot of mentoring from someone I taught violin to, and she mentors my teaching now, and she observes it sometimes. And she said that most teachers change how they greet each student. So, you think that you’re not signaling who you value and who you don’t—not me in particular, but generally, teachers—but actually, most teachers [have] some students, where they’ll come into the room and the teacher just carries on with who they’re teaching. And then, eventually, once that’s person’s packed up and gone away they’ll go, “oh, hello.” Which is fine, but then that pupil knows, that when the next pupil comes in for their lesson, [the teacher] stops and goes, “George, come on in! How have you been? —oh, sorry, yeah, we’ll finish that next time.” So, that different way of reacting. And again, at that point I’d never, ever considered it. But now, I make an absolute point of, every single time, I do the same thing. Which is, you stop what you’re doing, you greet the person by name, you tell them you’re just going to finish up, then I finish up, then I carry on. But would never have thought of that before. What a huge signal it sends to the student! J: And it’s totally the kind of thing you don’t notice unless somebody else is standing there to tell you. You’re just excited to see that other student. E: But to the student it’s really, really clear who’s the ‘favorite.’ J: I wonder how many other things in teaching—that we all do—are like that, that we haven’t become aware of yet. Like, ways that we’re showing value, if you will, that [the students] are picking up on. That’s kind of scary. E: It is, isn’t it? [laughs] J: Thank you so much for giving your time for this, I really appreciate it! And it’s great to talk to you! E: Yeah, you too! And if you want to ring back at any time, in this Covid—you know we’re all in the lockdown—and just have a chat, you’re very welcome!

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APPENDIX B

KIRSTEN WARFIELD INTERVIEW TRANSCRIPT

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This interview has been lightly edited for clarity.

K: Can we just start with the first question? J: Absolutely we can. K: Yeah! Summarizing everything you do with music in a single job title, what would you call yourself—my husband and I talked about this for a while, and musician should cover it. But, like, a lot of jobs now—outside of music—things have become so specialized. If you look back in the history of musicians, a musician was somebody who performed, and who taught, and who composed, and did all of those things. And marketed themselves, and did recordings once those were available. And now ‘musician’ seems like, “no, I play classical trombone for something that has notes on the page, and it’s probably just orchestra—maybe brass quintet.” You know? So, I feel like ‘musician’ should cover it, but it seems to connote these days a more specialized thing [than] what I actually do. But then my husband, the musicologist, said, “well, you should just be a musicologist, because that could be anything.” And it seems like he should be able to grant me that status, so I could be a musicologist, but that could be kind of confusing... J: I can totally see how all of those definitions should be [included], and also how some people would totally disagree. A lot of them are so subjective now, which is really interesting. K: I think a lot of musicians will append onto there, ‘artist,’ to say, “I’m something more than a musician.” Which doesn’t necessarily mean—especially in the classical world—that they’re writing their own stuff. It just means that they are the ‘cream of the crop,’ technically proficient, artist. Whereas you look at who comes to a Capitol Fourth, and the people with the ‘artist’ badges are the pop stars. ‘Artist’ has come to signify a certain status... all of these terms mean something different [in different contexts]. So, when I was in the [Army] Band, we would, every year, play for a Capitol Fourth. And we would get credentials to get in, and ours always said ‘Band.’ [laughs] But when we went someplace else, and played for their Fourth of July presentations, we would get credentials that said, ‘Artist.’ So, you know, when we were at home, we were just the band. When we went abroad, we were invited, and we were ‘artists.’ J: [laughs] Then you’re fancy. K: Right. And we were also treated accordingly, you know? As ‘artists,’ you’ve got food, you’ve got space. With ‘band,’ you might have some food, but you’ve got no space. 40 people, you’re in that 8x10 tent, to hang out for hours and hours, for a few days. ... K: So, did that kind of answer that? It’s like, well, musician, but with an asterisk: what do you mean by musician? What I mean by musician is pretty broad, and wide ranging.

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J: Do you think that that encapsulates all of the different things that you engage in—it’s like your husband said, you could be a musicologist. You’re composing, and you’re making connections via composing and performing that aren’t always made by people that are just performing. K: Yeah. So, my husband’s a Sousa scholar, and he looks at musicians that [are] really my exact colleagues from the Marine Band, back at the turn of the 20th century. And musicians back then were expected to play in the theatre, to play in the orchestra, to have studios of students, to publish music—all of these different things. It really does look like we have become much more specialized as musicians. Sousa—he not only was a conductor, but he played violin in the theaters, and in the orchestras, and he was writing. He did all of these things, and of course he was a great salesman of himself and his band. So, that is really much more the type of musician that I feel like I am. I much more fit into that old model of, ‘musicians do anything they’re asked to do, when it comes to music.’ And not just, “no, I only play this kind of music, for union scale, and these certain conditions, and no I don’t teach. I have to have music on the stand.” J: Do you feel like that answers it? K: Yes and no, I don’t know how you write that out, exactly. The one word becomes a pretty long answer. ... Even before Covid, I think a lot of classical musicians were feeling the need to branch out and remain relevant to set themselves apart. There was more of a push to not be so specialized. J: Especially with the way that orchestras are not necessarily—I’m being careful because it’s just my subjective opinion—but orchestras are not necessarily in a sustainable business model these days. There’s very few jobs, but we keep turning out graduates, and having just recently finished my full-time college experience, it’s like... there’s a lot of us. And we’ve all kind of been told [to pursue] the same options, but [those jobs] aren’t really there. K: Yeah, and the thing is, musicians who have become entrepreneurs, are the musicians who are successful. Who don’t wait for the phone to ring, but who go out and create a job that didn’t even exist before. Like, Christopher Bill would be a prime example of that. Somebody who is on the leading edge of just, making his own career. How sustainable is it?—time will tell. And because he’s an entrepreneur, he’s in the business of the business, and in business, it’s either grow or die. You have you be able to adapt. You know, you can’t sit in the orchestra for fifty years. J: Right, that’s just not going to work anymore. K: Yeah. And he can’t take the approach—which I don’t think he does—that he can just sit and do the same thing over and over again, now that he’s found his thing, [expecting] that it’s always going to work.

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J: I think was he does, it’s amazing but it’s also very timely. You kind of have to continue to be on the front of it... he’s really impressive, and I love that he’s kind of leveraged his thing into the ITA. K: And the ITA has not kept him at arm’s length! J: Do you mind if we move on to the next question? K: No, not at all! J: This is also kind of a big one. K: But this one is so easy for me! My answer is—why do I play music? I can’t help it. J: That’s a great answer. K: And, what keeps me going during difficult or stressful periods—because I’ve had plenty—it’s my belief that there’s always a way. For someone who loves music, you can take away everything. And this has been proven out by people who had everything taken away: slaves. They still found a way to make music. When their instruments were taken away, they created their own instruments out of spoon, or the jawbone of a donkey, or a box, basically. The cajón is basically the slave instrument of a box. And they would hide them in plain sight. Or the collection box—cajita, I think is what that one was called. So it’s like, if they can do it, so can I. There’s always a way. It may not the way that I’ve been taught, it may not be the way that is expected of me, it may not be the way that I’ve been doing things, but there’s always a way, and I just have to find it. J: Was there a time before you came to that realization of optimism, or a sense of determination? K: So, when I went to grad school—this was actually before I went to grad school—my husband and I met in undergrad. We graduated, got married, and immediately, he started grad school at Indiana University. And I decided that I would work to support him, and see if I still wanted to try to pursue music, and then we would swap. After a year of working, I was like, “yeah, I still wanna do music, and since I’ve lived in this state for a year, I can now get in-state tuition, so I might as well go to school here, as an in-state student, and get a pretty high-ranking music school degree for a real bargain.” So yeah, that’s how that happened. And that was basically the only point where I really would’ve walked away... because I was in my masters degree, finished the masters degree, stayed at IU, started a doctorate, and in the middle of my doctorate is when I got the job at the army band, so I went to the army band. So then I was employed! So, it’s not like I was gonna quit music then, even though I did have major, major chop problems, and I wasn’t being very successful with myself, with music. But I wasn’t getting fired. I wasn’t going to get fired from my job. It was very forgiving in that sense. So, again, it was just, if I just stuck with it long enough—and it’s not like I needed to do anything else. It’s not like I

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needed to go out and win an audition, I had the job. And I would be able to keep it. So I just sat there and thought of all of these different ways of making music—and that whole thing I told you about, “there’s always a way”—just sat down and started trying to find another way. I climbed out of that hole. The one year that I gave myself to see if I wanted to continue with another degree, I got through that year and was like, “yes.” And when I ran into problems I had he good fortune to be in a spot where I could afford to take my time, and do things different, take some chances in that regard, and never have to worry about winning another audition again—although I did take auditions. J: So, it sounds like having the security to be able to think about these things with some space, was helpful. Is that fair to say? K: Yeah, for sure. J: I’m certainly glad that you have found ways to make music that have fulfilled you. I think that’s really awesome, it’s really inspirational, to say the least. K: My relationship with music is way different than it was, even 10 years ago. I’d made the shift in my head, as far as what path I was going down, but not everything had gelled and come back together yet. I was still kind of on the journey. It was a tough road, but, yeah. I’m still going into the practice room—like, this summer, Covid summer, I pulled out some pieces that had always bested me, and that just always seemed impossible to me, and I recorded one of ‘em this summer, and I’m working on the second. I haven’t started recording it yet, but in the practice room it’s like... I’ve never been able to get through that piece, endurance or chop-wise. So, I’m still learning! I’m still growing. It would’ve been nice to have done this earlier, but I’m lucky enough to have had the time to let it happen when it happens. J: Why do you think it’s working now? K: [laughs] There are a couple reasons! So... I have a different relationship with music, just having changed my whole perspective on it, and who I’m doing it for, and who I’m not doing it for. And so, that’s been kind of my own, personal, psychological, therapy. And then there’s the drugs. [laughs] And, I’m not gonna lie, those helped a lot! But you know, I didn’t start taking those—how long have I been on those? Only like, five years? So, I changed what I was thinking up here [gestures to her head], long before I did the drugs. But the army band put me in a path where I was suffering a lot of anxiety, then I started taking Paxil. And, now, I’m outside of he band, I don’t have that anxiety anymore, but I’m still taking Paxil [laughs] because it helps with performance anxiety. It was so much that I just could not control, and I even tried beta blockers a couple of times, and they were not as all-encompassing, because you just take them before you gonna do your performance. And Paxil just calms everything down, days and weeks before a performance, so that none of it gets built up. So yeah, I don’t have the anxiety of the army band, but I’m still taking Paxil because it helps with the performance anxiety. ...

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So, I’m not sure if this is directly related [to why I’m now having success on these pieces], but a lot of how I got to where I am in my relationship to music, and going out and performing, has to do with the fact that I joined a rock band, Black Masala. And we would be out performing all the time—like really taxing stuff. Playing as loud as you can play, almost non-stop, for an hour or more. And that taught me a lot. Everything was memorized. These things that would’ve given me heart palpitations, with Black Masala, I would go out and play 26 tunes, all memorized, and not be nervous, at all. I’d enjoy myself, take some chances, do some improvisations, and just not know what was going to happen next. It was just a 180-degree flip side of everything that I had done before. I still approach a recital—that definitely still fills me with more anxiety and nervousness than a Black Masala gig, because for one thing, the people who come to Black Masala gigs are drunk and not very picky, so as long as you’re getting into it, they really don’t care if you miss some notes. [laughs] Whereas the recital audience, they’re waiting for you to mess up. They don’t usually—they do more these days—but, when I was coming up, they never went “woo!” So, going out there and getting some different experiences that would just help me get to a different relationship with music, so it was like, “we’re playing with people, we’re doing our own thing, we’re engaging with the audience.” After my first gig with Black Masala, one of my band mates came up to me and said, “hey, did you have fun?” And I was like, god, I don’t know that anybody’s asked me that after coming offstage before. Did I have fun? Was that supposed to be the point? I guess it was...! It was a different world. It helped. J: I’m glad it helped! It sounds like a massively more positive environment, just in terms of, ‘fun’ being a thing that you should be having... [laughs] K: Yeah! The people in Black Masala... a lot of them work way harder—way harder—than anybody, certainly at the army band, as far as making music. I’m sure everybody who’s won an audition would say, “yeah, but I worked really hard to get here.” Like, well, yeah, but now you’re not working hard... And these people [in Black Masala] are working hard. They’re hustling. They’re making decisions that make no sense financially... it’s like, “we’re gonna go on tour? How are we gonna make any money...?” No, it doesn’t make any sense financially. J: But they love it, I’m sure. K: I guess so. I never did, but I did it! I did it so I could say I’ve done it, and I don’t care to do that anymore. [laughs] J: It makes sense, that to do something totally outside of your comfort zone, [would] make a big difference. K: Yeah, it gives you a whole different perspective. And you what my first, big check was during the pandemic in April when everything had shut down and all my gigs were cancelled? It was my check from ASCAP. Why did I join ASCAP? Because I had written a tune for Black Masala, and the bandleader was like, “you should sign up for ASCAP, so

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any time that we perform your turn onstage, you can get paid for it.” So I signed up for ASCAP, and not only do I get paid for reporting when we perform my piece on stage, I’ve registered all of the pieces that I perform, at [the University of] Redlands, or Arizona [State University], and that check that I got, was for those performances, of my work! And did I learn anything about that in music school? No. J: No. Not at all, right? [laughs] Like, nothing. K: Yeah. I had to have the band leader of Black Masala tell me, this is how you do it. Again, hustling for every little thing. And that’s more the non-specialized musician. It’s the musician who does everything, because they have to, to cobble together a living. J: I actually took a class at ASU on copyright in music, and I thought it was going to be something more practical like that, but it actually ended up being, like, a sociological perspective on copyright in music, which was fine. But in the process, I learned a lot more about, like, all these things exist! And why aren’t we being taught—maybe the composers are being taught, but you know. So, I’m glad that you’ve been able to harness that, that’s really cool. K: And I’m only just dipping my toe into it. Because as you know, there’s the music school, and there’s the music industry... Guess which graduates are making money? J: The industry ones, right?! [laughs] K: Yeah... different places embrace [the more modern, practical-minded coursework] more or less, I think. Some are very, very stuck in their tradition of the conservatory, and the repertoire, and... ‘excellence.’ J: I think there’s value in that, but I also think it’s less relevant, and less applicable to our lives today. It’s almost like we’re a museum of music school. K: Right. Well, I mean, you can be excellent, but if you’re sitting in your house being excellent, and you don’t know how to get your excellent sound out there, what good is it? J: Given what you’ve learned in your career, what would you do differently if you could do things over, or, what advice would you give your younger self? K: Okay, the advice? It’s easy to give this advice, I think it’s really hard to take, but: get over your self-conscious bullshit. You know, “am I good enough, am I good enough. Will I make it. Am I smart enough. Do I have what it takes. What are they gonna [sic] think if I take this gig and don’t do well... what will happen.” I mean, you can’t know. But on the other hand... it does matter but it also doesn’t matter. And this all leads back to, there’s always a way. Some people don’t get anywhere even though they are excellent and they are good enough. And some people get the job even though they’re not that great, or maybe they were great on that day. I’ve seen a lot of people do really well who were not

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the best at anything. And, they may not be players in the Philadelphia Orchestra, I’m not saying that—but people who have put together their own chamber groups, they may not be all the best players. Or, you know, wedding bands, or [becoming] a singer/songwriter. And they make it somehow, and you look at them and [think], “your technical skills aren’t that great...” But it just goes to show that there’s always a way, if you want to make music. Now, if you’re only gonna [sic] be happy playing principal trombone in at least a second-tier orchestra, then... if your goal for music is so narrow, you should probably be ready to have as a ‘Plan B,’ going into real estate. Because I’ve known so many musicians, like pro musicians, who once they stopped caring about music, went into real estate. And it seems like anybody can go into real estate. [laughs] I’ve seen—It’s just been, I mean, a lot of people. But, if you can have a goal of something besides, “I need a principal trombone spot in at least a second-tier orchestra,” then you’ve got a much wider range of options, and the range is only limited to how creative your mind is. Because you can find the next great thing. Nobody’s looking to the stock exchange to put up an IPO for an artist. Nobody’s putting a demand out there for art. If we make art, nobody needs it until they have it, and they’re like, “oh my god. How did we get along without this before?” J: Why do you think getting over the self-consciousness is so important? Stop me if I’m putting words in your mouth, but do you think it stops people from being willing to think outside the box? K: Well, I know for me—and I think for women, especially—but for me, I had the doubt that was related to my gender. It’s like, [quietly] “how come I’m the only woman here...?” [I was thinking], is this something that inherently I cannot do? I didn’t have anybody to look to—not anybody readily available. I didn’t have the internet. So like, when the issue of the ITA journal came out that profiled Abbie Conant and a number of others—I think Julie Josephson and Jeannie Little were in there—I saw them, and I saw pictures of them playing their instrument, but I never heard them play their instrument, until I was into my job. [There were] very few people to look to where I would be like, “oh, that’s a woman playing trombone excellently—it can be done.” J: So, do you think that the self-consciousness tends to hold people back? And perhaps women more especially? K: Yeah. And, I mean, undermining your self-confidence... you need confidence to go out and perform on stage. I was full of a lot of anxiety and a lack of confidence, [and didn’t] believe that I could do it. J: I’ve seen that quite a bit in my younger female students. Not all of them, but definitely more so than the guys. Obviously, it’s a teeny little sample size, but I think that I’ve heard that enough from a bunch of different people, that you see these young women being like, “oh... I’m not sure...” They don’t really realize that they could be just as good, and probably better, than anyone. Easier said than done, to just ‘get over it,’ but it’s good advice!

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K: Yeah, so my other part of advice to give to [my] younger self is, “you have anxiety. Take drugs.” J: [laughs] That’s great. “Just take the drugs and be done.” K: I know, it’s not going to be possible for everyone, but you do not realize how much anxiety you have until it’s gone. J: Oh my gosh. I… also take drugs. So I am fully aware. [laughs] K: Yeah! Like, “wow, I had a lot of anxiety! Why didn’t I do anything about that? I didn’t realize...” J: Yeah. I still have some—it’s not gone—which I’m kind of okay with. I feel like I want to remember that it’s there. K: You want to be sane; you don’t want to be dead to the world. J: Right, exactly. I remember the first time—when it started to kick in—you’re sort of like, “Wow, I have all this space in here to think about things, and not just defend myself from my own brain...” Yeah, I like that. Just, take [the drugs], or go to therapy, or whatever. K: Yep. It’s there. You may think you’re okay, but… maybe you could be better. Maybe you could be better than okay. J: I think people don’t often realize the potential for good. K: Well you don’t have anything to objectively measure it by. It’s like, “this is how it’s always been. I’m here, I’ve got a job, I’m paying my bills, my marriage is working out... what’s wrong?” You don’t have any basis to compare [your mental health] against, until you take the drugs, and then you’re like, “Oh! Yeah, this is cool. This is nice.” J: Would you have changed anything that you had done? K: I don’t think there’s... um... I mean, as far as stuff at the army band, I probably would’ve remained anonymous. [laughs] I’ve always seen myself as a cynic, but it turns out I overestimated people, as far as like, that they are my friends and they’ll have my back. And so, if I would’ve been more of a cynic, I would’ve not had thought that, and I would’ve made any complaints anonymously. Which... really would’ve been worse for all of them. But instead of them, taking it upon themselves [to appropriately address my reports], in their positions of leadership that had be bestowed on them, they chose to sweep everything under the rug and protect the status quo. And… that was really disappointing. But yeah, I’d either have remained anonymous, or would’ve never tried to

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change anything or stand up for myself. And, just accepted my fate that I was never going to get what my peers got. But, if I had done that, I probably would’ve stayed longer than twenty years, and if I had stayed longer than twenty years, I would be in the army band probably right now. And now, when I’m looking—I’ll show my political colors—when I’m seeing Donald Trump deploy the military on the streets of the United States, I don’t want to have any part of that. Nor do I want to be in the military during COVID, where they are not protecting their soldiers. And to have them telling me how much risk to take, when it comes to the pandemic. And, number 3, I did some amazing things last summer, like go to the Bang on a Can Festival as a fellow, and a whole bunch of traveling, like IWBC, and I wouldn’t have been able to do that in the band, and I can’t do it this year, because of COVID. Would I do something differently? Maybe, but it all worked out for the best...! [laughs] Yeah, if I stayed a year longer, I wouldn’t have been able to do some really special and important things to me. If you would’ve asked me a year ago, maybe I would’ve said, “it would’ve been better if I would’ve just kept my mouth shut.” But this year it’s like, “no, no. It was perfect getting out at exactly that time.” Otherwise I wouldn’t have gotten all those things last year. J: I read a little bit of your blog, and so I kind of get a sense of how horrible it was without being too specific, so I’m just delighted that things have... it seems like you’re really free to express yourself artistically, and personally and politically. K: I’m very lucky. J: That’s very cool. Talk about how your gender has intersected with your musical career at any stage. Does a specific situation, dynamic, interaction, opportunity or obstacle come to mind? K: Yes. Okay, so it did take me a while to remember the specific sorts of things. So, when I got into the band, I had a friend who was just like, “you’re gonna [sic] have a baby. I just know you’re gonna do it.” And I was like, “no, I’m not.” And he was like, [taunts] “yes, you are.” And I’m like, [taunts] “No I’m not,” and he’s like, “you wanna bet?” and I was like, “Yes. I’m gonna bet you. I’m gonna bet you: in ten years, if I don’t have a baby, you buy me a steak dinner.” And you know, I collected on that bet. It was awesome. My husband was there too, and [my friend] bought steak dinners for both of us, at a really nice place in Boston. But that’s, you know, nobody else has to deal with that. And this goes on to point five here, “have you ever been treated differently than male colleague or competitors at any point and how did this impact you”: I know that during my audition, for the army band job, there was great concern about hiring me, because I was gonna [sic] go and get pregnant and not be of use to them. I know that they talked about that. And, did I ever get any credit when I didn’t take maternity leave? And of course, all of the guys took paternity leave. All of them. I mean, the paternity leave was like ten days, it wasn’t like maternity leave. But still. I never took paternity leave. I never took days off for a sick kid at home, which of course, anybody who had kids there did all the time, when their kids were sick. So, they lost no days from me having kids, birthing kids, or taking care of them later. And of course, there was no appreciation for that. That only

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came out to be a point to not hire me in the first place. In fact, I think they looked at me strangely because I didn’t have a family, like “there’s nothing wrong with her, she doesn’t have kids... that’s weird.” J: So, you can’t win, really. That’s so outrageous. Did anyone ever make comments to the fact... like, “are you gonna have kids? Why don’t you have kids?” Or was it just sort of a vibe? K: Just about any time I went to the doctor, they’d be like, “are you gonna have children?” And, I don’t remember the exact circumstance, but I remember several times being asked, “when you have children, you’ll have to consider this.” I’m like, “I’m not gonna have children.” [And they would say], “nah, when you have children, you should consider this.” [shakes head] There was a lot of [people saying], “you’re gonna have kids. Everybody says they’re not going to, but you will.” J: That’s so obnoxious. K: It is. J: Are there any other instances that come to mind? K: Everything else is so much more... innuendo, and subversive, so it’s just like, you can’t say that it’s definitely because of my gender, and it may not have been. It might have been because I didn’t go to the right schools. But, you know, I’d be right in the room when somebody was talking about offering somebody a gig, and they couldn’t do it, and they would not turn to me and say, “how about you?” Or, I was right in the room when my section leader was talking about who would be the next ‘guy’ to replace him, and I was the senior person, and my name did not come up. I was in the room when they were talking about needing to hire somebody who could play jazz as well as classical, and my name did not come up. Never mind that I was doing that on a regular basis. So, are those things related to gender? Maybe. Can you say absolutely? No, but it seems like it’s a pretty easy... since I’m the only there, and that’s the difference... Yeah, so everything else is more obscure. I often say that my problems there may not have been because I was a woman, but the fact that I was a woman certainly didn’t help. ... K: Hey, you know what I found out? This is the most recent gossip. I have one friend that I still talk to in the army band, and she said, “late July, we had a stand-to where they told us you were banned from the building, and they said you’d been notified.” And I was like, “I have not been notified.” And you know why they banned me from the building? Because I showed up for the American Trombone Workshop, and they were not very happy about that. So, either they are incompetent and just unable to notify me, or they’re lying that they got the Base Commander to sign off on this, and they’re just telling people in the unit that I’ve been banned from the band building. J: That’s so offensive.

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K: Isn’t it? That’s the craziness. So, it’s like, “it’s not over yet!” But they thought when they fired me that—I mean, they didn’t fire me, bit when they forced me out—that I would just, magically disappear or something. J: Like, you wouldn’t be alive. Like, this is the end of your life. [laughs] K: Right. J: And how offensive too, to make a spectacle of it in front of your former colleagues. It’s like, really...? There couldn’t be a shred of class? K: Nope! There’s none. It’s pretty funny. They are really stupid. J: I’m glad your friend informed you that you weren’t allowed to go in there. [laughs] K: And meanwhile I’m sitting here like, “why would I go there? At this point, especially.” The only reason I would go there is for ATW, and God knows if that’s gonna [sic] happen this year. So, who cares? J: In case you wanted to though, you can’t. What a delightful cherry on top... K: It’s nice to know they still think about me. Hey, if I can get under their skin, I’m happy to do it. J: Obviously you have this one friend who’s given you the inside scoop, but do you have other people that you are on somewhat good terms with? K: Anybody else there is basically at the level of Facebook friend. I have a number of Facebook friends who retired before all of this crap went down, and I didn’t unfriend them, but I think I’ve got maybe, like, four...? Four that I did not unfriend from Facebook. If they post too much about the army band, that still could happen. I just couldn’t see that stuff. I need to have a few people to know that I’m still alive, you know. J: Yeah! I think that’s important. I’m looking down at question six, which is basically something that we’ve answered already. [Question six is: what advice would you offer to young players seeking a successful career in music?] K: Yeah, that’s what I was talking about with the... if you’re not willing to widen your scope of what’s going to be successful for you in music, you should consider a career in real estate. It seems to be the way that most professional musicians move laterally throughout the world. I’ve seen it so many times. J: Do you want to move on to question seven? [Kirsten was looking at the questions on her computer, so I didn’t need to verbally repeat them. Question seven is: what

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opportunities or resources would you like to see made available for female-identifying trombonists? For example, what do you think about the value of blogs, websites, or podcasts is there anything else that comes to mind?] K: This was tough too. This was tough because, I do think there’s values in blogs, and websites, and podcasts. The FTNB Facebook group [a private Facebook group specifically geared towards female, trans, and non-binary brass players] has been pretty great. I think we really have to support each other, and collaborate instead of competing, as much as possible. You know, we can support each other and give each other opportunities as much as we can, but that’s still not going to make up for the great divide, so it’s like, what resource could get... you know, is there some sort of virtual reality machine that we could put men into so that they could see what it’s like for us, and what consequences their actions have on us—especially if they perceive us as friends? Or at least somebody that they don’t hate, or somebody who is like them. Can we put some men into a virtual reality machine, so they can get it through their heads? I mean, there’s a lot more allies now, I think, then there ever has been, but there are still so many people that just do not want to take on any responsibility for leveling this playing field. So, we can have all of our support groups, female-oriented [stuff], IWBC, all that sort of stuff is great, but what’s really needed at this point is to get some reconditioning for the men who can make it happen. We have to make sure we do everything we can to lift each other up—and that doesn’t always happen, I was definitely taken down in the army band; they handed a dagger to a woman to make sure. In fact, to two women. So, it’s not a given that women are going to back each other up. In fact, a lot of times the women will tear each other down, because if they’re the only one, they get more attention. Or, they have to be seen as being on the side of the guys, rather than being on the side of the women. [laughs] Because the woman knows, if she’s on the side of the women, they’re always gonna be outnumbered, and they lose. But if she sides with the guys, and she sinks the other woman—god forbid there be two others—she’s gonna be on the winning side. So, women aren’t stupid. They see that, and they see that’s the only way to get ahead, but I would like for people to choose to make a change. That’s women, and men. But I don’t think we get to equality without men stepping up. J: No. I mean, it’s the same thing we’re seeing with the anti-racism work, that it sort of takes everybody, and particularly the white people with the privilege. I wonder if some of the women-siding-with-guys thing is the avoidance of this perception of being an annoying feminist or a bitch, or whatever other label gets assigned to women who don’t just do what they’re told. So, they’re like, “well, I don’t want to be seen as part of that group.” Even if it’s subconscious, I wonder if there’s still a lot of that. K: Yeah, I think you’re right. J: I wish we could put the dudes into a virtual reality machine, I think that’d be very helpful.

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K: You know, that may sound fantastical—and it’s completely unworkable now, with COVID—but there was something that was called Carne y Arena, and it was this virtual reality experience—have you heard of this? My husband did it. It’s this virtual reality experience where you go in, and it’s this basically empty room, and they put on the virtual reality goggles, and it’s like, you’re doing a border crossing, in the south. You’re on the Mexican border, and you’re in the desert, and the agents come up and they’re like, “run, run, run!” and you run. If you ever are approaching a wall, there are people there to like, hold you back so you don’t hurt yourself [laughs], and turn you a different way. But, yeah! It’s the whole virtual reality of what it’s actually like to try to cross the US/Mexico border, illegally. Being smuggled in by a coyote. So, it’s like, we could actually do this. And afterwards, they let you sit in a room for a while with some tea, to get over it. [laughs] J: Wow. That’s a really interesting idea. I wonder what kind of scenario we could put [men] through that would encompass enough of the experience. K: Well, I mean, you can just think of so many gigs that you would go to where you’re the only woman, and people treat you differently. From, not seeing you at all, to staring at your boobs, or... there’s so many of these little micro things that men don’t even understand, until it happens. Until you would be the person who would be the woman. And having people interact with you as a woman is interacted with in some of these ‘professional’ settings. J: What comes to mind for me is the number of times that—I’m sure this is universal for female musicians at this point—but the number of times that older, male professionals have hit on me, in ways that are subtle or overt, or whatever. And it’s just like, “is this [really] happening?” K: Well, yeah. You know, if you were a professional male trombonist, and you went into this virtual reality scenario, and you had this old, gray, wrinkled up tuba player hitting on you, wouldn’t you feel like, “this is really fucking uncomfortable.” J: Yeah. And you can’t say anything because you won’t get called back. You have to just take it and be nice. K: Or there’s this old dude and he tells you you have “dick-sucking lips.” You know? J: Oh my god. K: You saw that story, right? J: I actually didn’t, but I’ve heard [things like] that before, in a general way. Did that happen again recently?

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K: [Discusses the source of this story; I’m removing this to protect the individual.] So, that was her story, and she’d told me at IWBC too. J: Somebody literally said that, to her face? K: Yeah! J: That’s horrific. Unfortunately, I’m not surprised, at all. Not even a little. But I’m so sad that that had to happen to her. K: If you could put some guy in a section, and just take anything that’s happened that’s been reported [on the FTNB Facebook group], and just have them experience that. It’s like, that’s how it happens! J: Yep. It’s subtle and constant. And expected. K: We just need to find somebody to do our virtual reality session for us. J: Is there anything else that you want to touch on? Or anything that I missed? K: I feel like we talked about a lot more than these questions look like [they cover], on the face of them. So that’s good. There was something else, for number one. My husband and I had fun coming up with other job titles for me. Air Column Exciter? Or my favorite was ‘Wind Tube Instigator.’ J: Thank you so much for your time, and your time spent preparing the questions! K: I hope you’ll be able to share the end result! I’d love to see what other people will have had to say too. J: What’s next for you? K: What’s next for me? You know that I’m in school right now, for audio technology? I’m getting a masters. That is also something that the military pays for. So yeah, audio technology. Yet another widening of ways to make music... I’m deep in the throes of learning how to do Ableton Live right now. [lowers voice] It turns out making music is really easy with technology... way easier than on the trombone... you don’t have to know anything about music! You can [just] do stuff and be like, “that sounds cool!” All the secrets will be revealed. Right now, I’m taking a course in online real-time music collaboration, and once I learn all those secrets, I’m going to advertise that to universities that I can share those secrets with, of what can help them get chamber musicians playing together remotely.

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APPENDIX C

JENNIFER WHARTON INTERVIEW TRANSCRIPT

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This interview has been lightly edited for clarity. Julia: If you had to summarize everything you do with music in a single job title, what would you call yourself? Jen: Single job title… um [laughs]… Not ringleader… Wow, so, I’m a bandleader, but I also… maybe just… blower? I don’t know, I’m a professional honker, or something? Julia: [laughs] I’ll take that, that’s fine. Do you feel like that covers—I mean, obviously it’s silly—but, I know you teach, and obviously you play, and you lead this band, and you do all your work in pits and stuff like that. How do you feel about putting all that under one job title? Jen: I mean, technically it would be just, freelancer. You know, that’s the easiest way to name it. But for me, it was always—one of my teachers actually found fault in this, because I just wanted to play. So I just want to play. I was in school, [saying] “I just wanna play.” And he was like, “well, no, you have to have a direction.” And I was like, “Okay… then I’m gonna do what you do.” [laughs] And you know, I just picked it, and I kind of wore that hat for a few years, until I was like, “I don’t like this anymore.” So, then I went back to, “I just wanna play.” And actually, I went through a whole period where I didn’t want to play at all, but it was the only thing I had… so, yeah. I had a bad experience in grad school, and I carried it with me for a while. I didn’t practice for years. I would only practice if I had something really hard coming up, but I didn’t practice like I had in school. I hated the horn, but I also couldn’t live without it… it was a real love/hate relationship thing. Julia: Can I ask… I’m super curious… what happened…? As much as you’re comfortable with, I’m just very curious. Jen: Yeah, and I don’t want to get sued either. You could leave names out, but I’ll tell you. Leave names out. I went to [name of university], and it was my third time auditioning, because I wanted to get into the Orchestral Performance program. The first time I auditioned, I didn’t get into the school at all, and it was just as I was graduating [from my undergrad institution]. The second time I auditioned, I got into the Masters’ program, but not the Orchestral Performance program. The third time I auditioned, I got into the Orchestral Performance program, and my whole goal was, I wanted to go study with [name of professor]. And then, within a month or two of school starting, [name of professor] was making comments, in lessons, about how maybe my throat is smaller than a man’s. And it was basically… you could hear when I was inhaling. I’m not sure if it was because [of] the wind rushing in through my mouthpiece, [or] it could be me, like, gasping for air. But he started making all these, like, female comments, and I wanted him to stop. So, I went to the head of my program, I told him what was happening, and I said, “I’m gonna say something.” And I did—over email, because I was upset about it and when I get upset, I cry. And then [the professor], after he read the email, he wrote back and basically said I was worthless as a student, there was no… he didn’t want to give me

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false hope about a career when I had no hope. And, come to find out, [this professor] tried to get me in trouble with the head of my department. I found out later, [the professor] didn’t even want me in the program, but he had missed all the auditions, so when I won the audition to get into the program, he tried to get me kicked out! He tried to get his other student in. And I wish… you know, if someone had told me this, I just wouldn’t have gone to the school! What a waste of money! When the school found out I wasn’t gonna sue—because I had no money, I was there paying out of my own pocket, my parents had nothing—so when [the school] found out I wasn’t gonna sue, they were just like, “cool! Bye!” I had to fight to get [this professor’s] grades thrown out… He would score me so low, in the auditions for ensembles, that even though I scored higher than everyone else with all the other people on the panel, [this professor’s] score would drag my average down so I wouldn’t be placed in the top groups. And I just stayed [at the school] for that full year, just to piss him off. I wish I’d had access to some mental health [support] or something, because that was a terrible thing to go through. And having parents that were completely unsupportive as well… But I came through it, obviously. It just took a long time. Julia: That sucks a lot. I’m sorry you had to go through that—that’s not cool, in the least. Jeez. I’m sorry your family wasn’t supportive either, that’s really rough. Jen: Well, they are now, but it’s kind of too late, you know? I wish they had been supportive years ago, when I really needed it. Now they are, but, I don’t care. [laughs] Julia: Well, I’m glad that you’re doing the Masters in sort of a totally different context now, to get a different memory in there, of what grad school is. Jen: Yeah. It’ll be like, writing over the past, which will be kind of cool. This is the best time to do it [during the pandemic], but I’m not used to being this stressed out about stuff, like having homework. [laughs] Julia: Well, I’m sorry that happened. That’s just totally unacceptable, but thank you for sharing it with me. That kind of stuff makes me so angry, because they’re never held accountable. It never really changes. Jen: No. I mean, a lot of people know what a giant asshole he is, but I wish they would’ve told me that before I spent all that time and energy—and money! —figuring it out on my own! Julia: Why do you play music, and what gets you up in the morning? Jen: Why I play music is, especially now, I can’t imagine doing anything else. I’m not qualified to do anything else! [laughs] Julia: [laughs] Yeah, I feel that too…

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Jen: I play because there are those moments—and they don’t happen as often as they used to—but there are those moments where the hair on your arms stand up, where you get the chills, where you feel your blood pressure rise because of what’s happening around you, and it’s those moments that I live for. What was the second part of the question? Julia: What gets you up in the morning, or what keeps your going during difficult or stressful periods? Jen: Having a goal. The hardest part of this pandemic, especially initially, was not having an end to it, no return to work date—I still don’t have one. And, being in this holding pattern for my album. So, I got this grant money to do a second album, and one of my trombone players won’t leave his house until there’s a vaccine. And there’s a whole long story, and I’m not trying to bag on him, because there are some very good reasons that he has, for not doing that. But I was in this holding pattern for a long time over it, and I was like, “if I don’t have this, I have nothing.” And it was before the Masters thing kind of fell into my lap. So, I really pushed hard to do the recording—and we’re doing it without him, and he’s gonna record remotely, which is fine. He’s working on the setup, it’s gonna be okay. But, if I didn’t have goals—and even during normal, non-pandemic times—if I didn’t have goals, I would have a hard time getting up in the morning. Even though, sometimes my goals feel like they’re too big, and I feel like I’m really pushing myself, and I get really stressed out and hard on myself, and wanna crawl into a hole and throw my horn out the window... if I didn’t set those goals, I would be just kind of sitting on my ass, and not doing anything, and being depressed, because that’s my tendency. Setting small goals and big goals just really works for me. Julia: I totally feel that tendency, I’m there with you. Do you find that... When you feel like your goals might be too big, is it harder to keep going? Or is that more of a motivator for you? Jen: Well, I’ll tell you a non-music-related story. When all this stuff happened with grad school, I kind of fell into a hobby, which was doing triathlons—sounds weird. [laughs] It’s a very expensive hobby, and I wouldn’t recommend it. However, I fell into it, and it became like, “okay... if I can do this, then what else can I do?” And, I feel like applying that logic to music has actually really pushed me way farther that I thought I ever would go. I never thought I’d be purposefully trying to improvise, and here I am; I have a band, and I’m making myself do it. In triathlon, I went all the way up to the Iron Man, twice. And I was like, “if I can do that, I can improvise over these changes for a minute and half.” Which is literally how I would break down these things, because improvisation... I’d rather be standing naked onstage. But I was like, “it’s literally 30 seconds of the song, or a minute and a half of the song.” If you combined all of my solos on my first album, it’s probably less than five minutes, or around five minutes. I was like, “if I can’t do five minutes of this, but I can do an Iron Man...? No, that’s wrong. I can do this. Let’s figure it out.” So that’s how I break it down. I’m actually improvising more on this next album, so I think I’m pushing myself in the right direction. But it’s one of those things, it’s a never-ending journey. Jazz—I think trombone, and music is always never-ending—but, I’m

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never gonna be a master of it, but the more I do it, I’m gonna get better. It’s kind of like riding a bike; the more you do it, the better you get, the stronger you get. In that way I can just hopefully enjoy the journey, rather than be focused on, “okay, once I do my album then I can stop.” Which, I actually, you know, sometimes I drop the ball with practicing, but then I’ve gotta do it again, and even though I’ve taken a couple steps back I’m still not where I started. So, I’m still moving forward, just kind of at a snail’s pace. Julia: I like that you’re so willing to challenge yourself. That seems to kind of be a theme—you said [something similar] in [another] interview I found, and I can’t remember exactly, but it was something like, “what’s the point if you’re not trying to do something better, or trying to improve?” Jen: Yeah. That should be, like, life, I guess. If something is stagnant, just like my life in general, I hate it. I get really anxious. Being stuck at home [during this pandemic], I was really having a hard time. I got out on my bike a lot, that helped. I can’t run anymore, because I have something wrong with my hip, but I tried to get out of the house as often as possible. We got a new puppy in February, so that helped. Peanut! She’s fifteen pounds of sass. [laughs] Julia: Aw! [laughs] Okay, I’ll ask the second part of that question we started on: Have you ever wanted to give up or change career paths? Jen. Yes. Yes! I’ve wanted to give up several times, and I know there are some musicians out there that will say, “if you want to give up then you should,” because music is too hard. I’ve heard that and I’m like... man, if I had given up...! How many times have I wanted to give up, I’ve wanted to give up like a thousand times! [laughs] But, I think it’s because I came from [a family that was like], “oh, no, you need a real job. You need something to fall back on.” So that voice is always in my head, even though I’m so far down the music path, I don’t think there’s any turning back now. But because of the pandemic, who knows, I might have to pivot at some point, because our savings is only gonna last so long...! I don’t wanna quit! But I might have to add on additional skills. I think once you hit a certain point, of being a musician, even if you never pick up your horn or touch your instrument again, you’re always gonna be a musician. I think I’ve hit that point. I will always be a musician, even if I quit tomorrow. I put too much time and effort into it. Julia: The pandemic has made me think a lot of those things too. Jen: I’ve played two gigs, and I was so anxious for both of them. One was my band, so obviously I’m gonna be anxious for that, but the other one was the very first gig I played. It was like the twilight zone; I just can’t even describe it. So hopefully more stuff will come back, and the second wave... hopefully we’ll avoid it. Julia: Is it pretty scary being out in New York?

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Jen: I don’t think it’s that scary... It was scary, initially, especially before everyone started wearing masks. I’ve been avoiding the subway. I think I’ve only taken in three times since March, which is very weird. When I get on the subway I try to sit far away from people, but my husband took the subway, and he was fine going there, and then coming back it was a little bit later, so it was packed, and people were not wearing masks. They’re supposed to get fined, but who knows if anybody’s keeping track. I just try to stay away. If I have to go into Manhattan, I try to ride my bike, if I can, just to keep away from people. Julia: Given what you’ve learned in your career, what would you differently if you could do it over? Jen: I would learn how to improvise when I was younger, just so it doesn’t feel like it does right now. [laughs] It’s better than it was, but like I said, initially, I would rather be standing there naked. It’s better now, but... it’s still not great. [laughs] Julia: [laughs] I remember the stress too, when you’re first learning how to do all that stuff. Obviously, I wouldn’t call myself an expert, but I have done it for a while, just because, as a tenor in jazz band, they make you [improvise] from an earlier age. But that terror is real. [laughs] Jen: So, I quit playing when I got to high school, and then I picked it up back up halfway through my junior year—but not bass trombone—and no one ever made me improvise. And then my senior year, I think they made me improvise once, and then it just became like every once in a while, like maybe once every year, someone would ask me to do it. But it wasn’t something that bass trombone players really did. It was just in the last few years, living in New York, where these bass trombone players were moving to New York, and they could improvise. And I’m like... god dammit! [laughs] Now I have to learn! I think I get tied up in the thought that, I’m married to a world-class jazz trombonist, and he does a lot of stuff really well, and I get caught up [in thinking], “I don’t play that many notes. I don’t have that kind of language.” And he always tells me, “Look, play something pretty, and that’s equally as valid.” So, that’s what I try to do. I try to play something pretty. Julia: Talk about how your gender has intersected with your musical career at any stage. Does a specific situation, dynamic, interaction, opportunity or obstacle come to mind? Jen: Well, you heard about my obstacle in my Masters degree... [laughs] In a certain way, I feel like being female helped me stick out in a crowd, in a sea of sausage, if you will. [laughs] But, that’s not true any longer either. I had kind of a crisis moment when all these other female bass trombone players were moving to New York, and I was like, “what do you mean, I’m not longer the chick bass trombone player?” That was kind of what spurred me to form [my] band, because Ingrid Jensen—I mean, there was a lot of things, but—Ingrid Jensen, fabulous jazz trumpet player. And I called her up, because there was really no one that I could talk to about this feeling that I was having. [I was

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like], “what do I do, I’m not the chick bass trombone player anymore,” and she said, “well, you need something that’s your own.” There were a lot of little things that added up to why I made the band, but that was one of them. I was appreciative of her just kind of being there for me, and I like to try and be there for younger players as well. Just because, me coming up, I didn’t meet another female trombone player professional, until I was already doing it. So, it was hard. And then because of the dynamics—this happened when the other ladies moved to New York—the weird, social dynamics... all the guys were coming up and going, “hey, you know who so-and-so was playing with?” You know, trying to pit [the women] against each other; it was really odd. [These guys were] not supportive at all. So, I had to kind of fight that urge to be combative. It happened very quickly, because I could recognize that [being combative] wasn’t a healthy idea, and I have a friend who’s in the banking business, and she said, “no, you need to be supportive [of the other women], you don’t want to be that other thing.” It was very helpful, and I think I’m in a good place now. Julia: That’s good. I’m glad you had at least a little bit of support, but it’s really awesome that the group of lady trombones is increasing. I think most of the women trombones I’ve talked to were like, “I was the only one in school!” Jen: And now there’s a community! For so long, it was just like, one here or one there… People would assume we all knew each other. [laughs] Julia: Have you been treated differently from male colleagues or competitors at any point? You sort of covered that in your grad school [story], but has that happened outside of school? Jen: Oh yeah. I’ve had friends come up to me and ask me who I blew to get a certain gig. That rarely has happened—that level of gross stuff—has rarely happened in New York. It was more post-school, when I was just starting my professional career, was more when that happened. It could be any number of things, but like I said, I stuck out because I was female, and I played at a certain level. I wouldn’t say I was the best bass trombone player ever, but I was certainly good enough to do gigs. But people assumed there was a different reason, like an ulterior motive, for me getting a gig, rather than me just being good enough to play it. Julia: How did this impact you, this sort of different treatment? Jen: I talk about this a lot in clinics, when I talk to younger people. I feel like women, traditionally, have done one of two things: either they go the ‘sexy’ route, or the ‘buddy’ route. I definitely went the ‘buddy’ route. I figured, if I could be dirtier than everybody, if I could tell dirtier jokes, and be funnier, and be just a pal, they wouldn’t sexually harass me. And 90% of the time, that worked. But there were some other times. [laughs] We won’t get into it. But yeah, I mean, for the most part, that was how I dealt with it, and I felt like it was successful to a point. When “Me Too” happened, I really did question all the behavior that I had… like, all of my behaviors since I became sort of a professional

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trombonist, and kind of wondered who I’d be, if I hadn’t had to sort of create that persona. Because now that’s who I am, it’s kind of part of who I am. I’m the jokester, and whatever. But I wonder what I’d be like if I hadn’t had to do that. Julia: That’s an interesting question. I feel like a lot of people can relate to that—I certainly can. It sounds like it wasn’t anything particularly traumatic. Like, maybe gross, or maybe rude, but not anything too bad, at least from what you’ve said. Jen: Yeah. I mean, I’ve been on a gig where there was no changing room for the ladies, so I had to go change in the multi-stall bathroom, and had someone try to look at me. I’ve had people touch my ass. You know, and they’ll say stuff. If someone does say something—it rarely happens now, but back then it used to happen all the time—and I would, like, really lean into the dirtiness, so it made them really uncomfortable. And actually, the last time I had to pull out something like that, I was subbing on the Dave Liebman Big Band, and we were at a festival somewhere in Pennsylvania, and I walked in, and someone said, “Wow, you’re the only girl in the band?” and I’m like, “you know, I haven’t checked everybody…” [laughs] So, I was very proud of that moment, and I tell everyone to feel free to use it. Julia: What advice would you offer to young players seeking a successful career in music? How about women specifically? Jen: I’d say, a successful career may not be what you think it is. I never thought I’d be doing what I’m doing now, like playing Broadway. I never thought I’d be making a living playing Broadway. I didn’t really know what I’d be doing, but I just wanted to play. So, it may not look how you think it looks, so don’t turn down opportunities when they arise, just because you think it’s not part of your game plan. You never know who you’re going to meet. I tell this story frequently, but I met the guy that hired me for my very first Broadway show in San Francisco doing a Chinese funeral. Like, a $50 gig. Yeah, it was a really weird gig, and that’s how I got the [Broadway] gig. It’s because I was nice to him, and I wasn’t a douchebag, and you know, I played good enough [that] he thought I would do a good job, and that was it. But if I had been snobby—because I was definitely trying to do the orchestral thing—if I’d have been snobby about anything, you know, [saying] “this gig is beneath me,” it never would’ve happened. And to women specifically, I think… as much as I feel lucky in New York because the attitudes here are very good, like in terms of women and equality—it’s better here than most places, and I think that’s because the level of playing here is so great, so if someone does well here, it’s because they can play. If someone keeps getting hired for gigs, it’s because they can play, they deserve to be here. In other places… I have a student that’s not that far outside of New York, and she has teachers, sort of, being condescending to her because she’s female and playing the bass trombone. So, it’s not that far away! And it’s still happening because these old ideas are still in people’s heads. Who knows where they came from, but they’re there. We can only control what we do. So, the best revenge is success. So just being like, okay, now that they’ve identified themselves as sort of misogynistic, you can say, “okay, I’m gonna put you [over] here, and keep my eye on the prize.” So, just being able to

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identify it, and not absorb it, you know? You can say, “no, that’s someone I’m not going to listen to, because obviously, they’re deficient in some way, and can’t see my greatness.” [laughs] Julia: Right, yeah! That’s a good way to look at it. So, would your advice basically be… to figure out where to put the people who aren’t supporting you? Jen: Yeah! And figure out who to listen to. Part of my problem was that, when I went to grad school, even though I thought I had done my research, I put all my eggs in this grad school basket, so when the rug got pulled out from under me, I went through… it was much more traumatic than, maybe it had to be. I feel like surrounding yourself with good people, all trying to do what you’re trying to do, supportive people—that’s what I had to do because my family wasn’t supportive, so I had my friends and colleagues that were supportive—so surrounding yourself with people like that will help you defend against the douchebags that say dumb things. Julia: Right. Jen: Sorry, I use ‘douchebag’ a lot as an insult. [laughs] Julia: No, that’s totally fine! [laughs] I’m not worried about it. Jen: It’s genderless, so anybody can be a douchebag. [laughs] Julia: That’s true. I love that we have gender-free insults, you know. That’s what we need. [laughs] I think that’s super good advice, and I imagine it would help with a lot of the, just, bullshit you encounter—not you specifically, but, everyone in music—there’s just BS all over the place, but if you can be like, “alright, I’m focused over here.” Jen: Especially as a trombone player! I mean, we’ve got it rough. [laughs] Julia: What opportunities or resources would you like to see made available for female-identifying trombonists? For example, what do you think about the value of blogs, websites, or podcasts? Is there anything else that comes to mind? Jen: Well, one podcast I could recommend because it’s so positive, and it’s run by a woman—a really strong, awesome woman—is The Musicians Guide. It’s Karen Cubides—she’s out of Nashville, but she also works with the Trombone Festival—she’s really awesome. I got the chance to talk on one of her episodes too. She’s just an incredible lady. She very cool, and she’s so talented, and she’s also got a management company… she does a lot of things, she’s a renaissance woman. Julia: Yeah, she gets it done.

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Jen: And she’s married to a trombone player, so she can’t be bad! Resources that are out there now… there’s WIJO, which is the Women in Jazz Organization—it’s female-identifying, you know, anybody that wants to be a part of that—so they have an organization, and a mentorship program, which is awesome. The group that was started on Facebook [the FTNB Brass Players group]—that is huge. Not only am I learning about the other brass players around that are dealing with varying levels, depending on where they are, if they’re in high school, college, whatever, or were players and now quit because of the trauma they had to deal with. I’m learning a lot of stuff that way, but I’m also learning about non-binary issues, trans issues, just in our world. Which, to be fair, I don’t come across a lot, so, I know it’s not their job to educate me, but I am being educated. I think it’s very helpful. But, in terms of what’s not there… maybe just in the trombone world—and I think they’re trying to do more of this—but having the ITA be… I don’t want to say more ‘female-friendly,’ I don’t think they’re necessarily not female-friendly, but… I’ve never felt like, when I was in school, that it was a place for me. It seemed very ‘bro-y,’ you know? I think it’s less so now, and they’re making giant efforts. I’m actually friends now with people who are on the festival committees, and they’re making giant efforts, but it’s still… I think it’s gotta start with the kids, and the youth program is huge. I really dig what Chris Bill has been doing with the youth program. I think it’s all there, it just needs to be there for a longer period of time. I do think that the youth coming up, and even the younger, professional, adult players that I run into, they have much less issue with the gender, and just the spectrum of gender stuff. Which is so encouraging. But there’s still the people we have to deal with that aren’t there yet. Educating in a way that’s not off-putting is a huge task. Julia: Is there anything else you want to add? Jen: I would say, most people are awesome, that you’ll meet. Especially as you go down the road, as you get farther and farther down the road, I feel like more and more people are awesome. And if they’re not awesome, they’re probably awesome about certain things, you know? Maybe interpersonal skills are not where they need to be, but, you know, we spend a lot of time in practice rooms so musicians can get a little weird. But I like to go in with the assumption that everybody is awesome, and just finding what they’re awesome at, it might not be being my friend, it might be that they’re really awesome at something else. I understand that my personality, whatever it is and for whatever reason that it is the way it is now, I realize that I am not for everybody, but, I think that if I can go… It doesn’t have to be a personal assault if someone doesn’t like me. I can still do my job and I can still work with them, we’re just not going to hang out. And I think, as women—at least, my experience as a woman—I have been caught up in people liking me, too much. In general, we could probably lose a little bit of that, if anybody is like me. I think if we could just focus on, okay, “that’s not for me.” I don’t know if you know Nick Finzer? He teaches at North Texas, but he does a lot of these online masterclasses, and I went to one that was on media and marketing, and he said, “some things are just not for you, and it’s not a big deal.” So I feel like, some people are just not for me, I’m not for them. Don’t get caught up in that, because it’s never-ending. You’re never going to make somebody like you that doesn’t like you! [laughs] I’ve tried!

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Julia: [laughs] Like, from experience, just give up. Jen: [laughs] I mean, you could still work with people like that. That’s the thing that I’ve learned, that you can still work with people. You don’t have to be chummy, just be professional. Julia: I think that’s really good advice. The thing about always wanting to be liked—I feel that. I feel like a lot of women feel that, just outside and inside of music. Jen: I mean, that’s what we’re taught. Our body is not our own, go and kiss so-and-so goodbye, go hug so-and-so. Like as a kid, your body is not your own. I’ve brought that up with my mother several times. I’m never having kids, but if I were to, that child would be in charge of their own body. Julia: Well, this has been a super fun conversation! Thank you so much for taking the time! Jen: Thank you for asking me to do it! This was great. Hopefully we’ll see each other sooner rather than later!

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APPENDIX D

IRB DOCUMENTATION

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EXEMPTION GRANTED

Bradley EdwardsHIDA: Music, School of-Brad.Edwards@asu.edu

Dear Bradley Edwards:

On 3/3/2020 the ASU IRB reviewed the following protocol:

Type of Review: Initial StudyTitle: Three Interviews: Diverse Career Paths of Female-

Identifying Professional TrombonistsInvestigator: Bradley Edwards

IRB ID: STUDY00011459Funding: None

Grant Title: NoneGrant ID: None

Documents Reviewed: • Brad Edwards - CITI Training Completion Cert., Category: Other;• Broome-Robinson - Completed Social Behavioral Protocol , Category: IRB Protocol;• Broome-Robinson - Short Consent Form, Category: Consent Form;• Interview Questions (IRB) (PDF).pdf, Category: Measures (Survey questions/Interview questions /interview guides/focus group questions);

The IRB determined that the protocol is considered exempt pursuant to Federal Regulations 45CFR46 on 3/3/2020.

In conducting this protocol you are required to follow the requirements listed in the INVESTIGATOR MANUAL (HRP-103).

Sincerely,

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IRB Administrator

cc: Julia Broome-RobinsonJulia Broome-Robinson