# Tia Fuller: Why I’m using my nomination to speak out about se.ism in the world of jazz: Videos

- Link: https://jazzblues.eu/2019/02/23/tia-fuller-why-im-using-my-nomination-to-speak-out-about-se-ism-in-the-world-of-jazz-videos/
- Published: 2019-02-23T18:44:45+01:00
- Author: https://JazzBlues.EU

**Young girls can fly a rocket ship, throw a football and solo on the saxophone —
but it is always harder to be what you cannot see.**

Throughout the entertainment industry, we’re seeing a rising level of consciousness
when it comes to gender discrimination and sexual harassment. In Hollywood, the #
MeToo and #TimesUp movementshave shone a spotlight on the way some men in power 
have acted as corrupt and abusive gatekeepers for decades.

I am encouraged by the fact that that many of us are now speaking out about these
issues. And thankfully, I feel that there has been more thought to the inclusion
and recognition of women on the scene since I started playing. But we still have
a long way to go in the music industry.

![Illustration of Tia Fuller performing in a sea of men.](https://i0.wp.com/media4.
s-nbcnews.com/j/newscms/2019_06/2746981/190208-tia-fuller-grammys-kh_e8fec4fd0753a9b9a140bfef49c96be9.
fit-760w.jpg?w=640&ssl=1)

As a female jazz musician, and a woman of color, I’ve dealt with sexism throughout
my career. Early on, when I would first meet other musicians who hadn’t heard me
play, I felt that I wasn’t always taken seriously. People would stop me when I was
traveling and ask me about my saxophone case. “Oh wow! Do you actually play that?”
Usually, I’d respond in a nice way. But what I really wanted to say was: “No, I’m
just carrying it.” This is why it’s important that we reshape the narrative around
jazz and redefine, literally, what a jazz player is assumed to look like.

I remember once a man came up to me and said, “Why aren’t you smiling? Maybe you
should smile a little more on stage.”

I grew up in Denver, Colorado and began performing my senior year of high school.
At age 18, I started sitting in at a local jazz club, the El Chapultepec Lounge.
I remember once a man came up to me and said, “Why aren’t you smiling? Maybe you
should smile a little more on stage.” At the time, I didn’t have the confidence 
to respond assertively, but it made me think. He didn’t say anything to anybody 
else on stage about smiling, and of course, everybody else on stage with me was 
a man.

![](https://i0.wp.com/www.cpr.org/sites/default/files/styles/full-width/public/images/
tia_fuller_image4.jpg?w=640&ssl=1)

The historic underrepresentation of women in jazz means the very landscape of jazz
has been shaped by _his_-story. For the most part, it is men who have told the story
of jazz music, and men who have decided which players represent the genre publicly.

Here’s another example: When I first moved to New York in 2001, I remember going
to a jam session where a long line of musicians was waiting to get up on stage. 
When it was my turn, a male horn player behind me almost immediately cut me off.
I looked around and noticed that once again, I was the only woman in the room. That
was the last time I let a man play over me like that ever again.

Unfortunately, women of color have been marginalized in so many industries for so
long that it has become to feel almost normal. This in turn colors the expectations
of audiences, who are too often surprised to see a woman playing. We are judged 
differently, either because we are viewed as exceptions or because we are assumed
to be token hires and thus not as skilled. Then there’s the issue of looks. It’s
not enough for women to play well — sometimes our musicianship is diminished simply
because of how we may appear on stage. Men are never as heavily scrutinized, and
especially not when it comes to their appearance.

These stereotypes are so pervasive, they’ve even influenced my own thinking. I’ve
had to check myself regarding my own socialization and reckon with instances when
I’ve subconsciously been sexist toward other women — even making assumptions about
a female artist’s abilities before hearing her play. Unfortunately, women have seen
and felt discrimination so often that the oppressed too easily becomes the oppressor.

Just like with sexism in other industries, a lot of this oppression has to do with
gatekeepers.

Just like with sexism in other industries, a lot of this oppression has to do with
gatekeepers. Club owners are often men, a tradition that dates back to founding 
of some of the oldest American clubs in the 20th century. Especially earlier in 
my career, I’d pitch my band for gigs and feel like these male club owners were 
treating me differently because of my gender. I was there for a professional meeting,
but the conversation too often shifted to flirtation. I was not taken seriously 
as a musician, but I was taken seriously as someone to potentially ask out on a 
date.

I have a transparent and vulnerable demeanor — something that stems from my childhood
in the laid-backed Denver area — so I’ve had to adjust the way I present myself 
and overemphasize that I’m about business. There’s a subtle strength in that, the
balance of communicating in a nice, but clear and precise way. I am careful now 
never to leave any wiggle room for misunderstandings. But this balancing act shouldn’t
be a requirement of my profession.

Don’t get me wrong, I’ve had many male mentors who have advised and looked out for
me in my career: Master drummer Ralph Peterson Jr., whose band I played in for a
long time; Cecil Brooks III, former owner of Cecil’s Jazz Club in West Orange, New
Jersey, where I would sit in; saxophonist Bruce Williams, who played with Frank 
Foster and the late Roy Hargrove; and Denver natives and saxophonists Javon Jackson
and Brad Leali. Systemic sexism doesn’t mean all men in the jazz business are sexist,
obviously.

And I am very thankful for the female mentors I have met in the last six years or
so, women like drummer Terri Lyne Carrington, who produced my Grammy-nominated album“
Diamond Cut,” multiple-Grammy-winning vocalist Dianne Reeves and the late pianist
Geri Allen. But the fact that I only recently have been able to really connect with
women in my field is just one more example of the way the industry tilts towards
men.

And just like the way male club owners can discourage or undermine female players,
the stories we tell about the history of jazz have erased the contributions of women
for years. Musicians and fans alike have been deprived of the genre’s many female’s
heroes. In fact, women have long played pivotal roles in the business, even if they
weren’t properly recognized for those roles.

For example, plenty of Americans have heard of the great players Dizzy Gillespie
and Thelonious Monk — but fewer people know about Mary Lou Williams, who played 
with and influenced them. Her Harlem apartment became a gathering place for some
of the most important musicians of the 1940s.

Similarly, Lil Hardin Armstrong, Louis Armstrong’s wife, was an accomplished player
in her own right who promoted her husband’s career and also wrote arrangements for
his Hot Five and Hot Seven recordings. Where’s her Hollywood biopic? in the 1940s,
the International Sweethearts of Rhythm — an African-American, all-female band —
was the biggest-selling and most popular all-female band of the era, breaking racial
and gender barriers as they toured across the country.

We also need to be talking more about trombonist Melba Liston, who played and wrote
many arrangements for Gerald Wilson, and tenor saxophonist Vi Burnside, whose peers
were Coleman Hawkins and Sonny Rollins, and Vi Redd, the alto saxophonist who played
and sang with the Count Basie Orchestra. These women were foundational to the genre
but their stories have since been mostly forgotten.

Fortunately, it feels like people are now starting to speak up and take ownership.
Organizations like the We Have Voice collective — which I am a part of — are speaking
out about equity in the performing arts.

The young men of this new generation are also becoming more sensitive and aware 
of these issues. I’ve seen it with my students at the Berklee College of Music. 
This is a problem women cannot change on our own. We need male allies to stand with
us; to rebuke the male club owners, to correct their male peers in their bands. 
And I have personally taken it upon myself to address this issue with my male peers
and students; to hold them accountable for inadvertent sexist remarks that they 
may make about women, even online.

The solution begins with the next generation. We have to move beyond teaching traditional
gender roles and activities. Young girls can fly a rocket ship, throw a football
and solo on the saxophone — but it is always harder to be what you cannot see. I
hope being a woman of color in the music industry will help show other women and
girls what they can be, too. We have to be proactive in deconstructing sexist and
racist mindsets.

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