Being a disabled musician

Wed, 17 Apr 2024 19:04:52 +0100

I wasn't always disabled. In fact, it's still a relatively new thing for me. I do feel like I have always been a musician, though. It's just a bit more, shall we say - challenging - these days.

I can remember being very young, maybe around 4, and listening to my grandad playing the piano and organ. Bach's Toccata and Fugue. Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata. I was in complete awe. We used to have his old piano in my childhood home, and he was teaching my older brother how to play it. I was too young, unfortunately - he died when I was 6 years old, and grandad didn't tolerate small children very well. When the local music service came into my junior 1 classroom and asked who would like to play an instrument, my hand was straight up! Little old 7-year-old me was given a clarinet - and I loved it!

Cut to 2021 - big old 46-year-old me was in my dream job, teaching music for the very same music service that gave me a clarinet way back in 1982. By this time, I could play around 20 different instruments and was also a conductor. Apart from a slipped disc, all was good in my life. But that was about to change quite dramatically... I developed a neurological disorder in September 2021, and had to give up work and stop driving. It has left me with mobility and balance issues, as well as chronic pain, fatigue, memory problems, tremors and spasms.

For the first year after I became ill, I didn't play any of my instruments. I lost a lot of fine motor skills and I have problems with my grip, and have very little strength in my arms. I stopped singing random songs at random times - always a sign of low mood with me. Thankfully, work paid for me to have counselling which, helped enormously. I joined a community choir, but I really missed playing an instrument. It wasn't until someone was talking about their pBone that I thought: hang on, I've got one of those - maybe I could still play it? With an adapted hold, yes I could! Playing the trombone uses mainly gross motor skills, and being made of plastic it is light enough for even my weak arms. My plastic trombone has meant that I could rejoin the jazz band that I used to play vibraphone and keys in. I still have some struggles - a newly-discovered heart condition means that I sometimes become very short of breath whilst playing, and I cannot read music quite as well or as quickly as I could before I became ill. C flats have proved to be particularly tricky. In a recent concert, I had to suddenly throw my trombone to the bass player as a muscle spasm took hold - luckily we were not playing at the time! But I am not going to let these things stop me from doing what I love.

As well as the barriers created by my illness, there are other barriers to being a disabled musician - lack of accessibility in some venues being a huge one. I was told last year that I would not be able to perform at a Christmas lights switch-on with the choir because there was no wheelchair access to the stage. There was absolutely no attempt by the event organisers to find a way to rectify this. No thought at all for people with disabilities - are we not supposed to want to perform? Not supposed to want to make music? I cried when I was told - mostly from sheer frustration. Thankfully, my fellow choir-members found a way to include me, and some of them said that they would sing with me in front of the stage whilst the rest of the choir sang on stage. Not perfect, but better than not being included. I get that there are not many disabled performers, but that might just be because of a lack of accessibility, a lack of thought for us. Venues will say that they need to be told about disabilities - but if venues/stages were accessible, everyone could use them. Everyone can use a ramp, or a lift. People in wheelchairs cannot use steps. At the other end of the spectrum, Band on the Wall in Manchester is absolutely fantastic for accessibility, with ramped access throughout the public areas and a platform lift up to the stage. That made me feel that I was not an afterthought, I was seen and included. Five gold stars to them!

Another worry about being a disabled performer is that people will just see my wheelchair, my disability, and not me, the performer. That they will think, "Oh bless her for having a go". Trust me, I've heard it, and seen the accompanying patronising looks. Or worse - I get told that I am "inspirational" for still getting out and about. I want you to see me as inspirational for being a fantastic performer (which I hope that I am), for inspiring others to take up an instrument, or to come back to one that they used to play years ago but gave up. I'm just living my life and getting on with it, whilst still doing what I absolutely love - performing. So if you see me with the choir or the jazz band, please feel free to come up and talk to me, and ask questions. Come up and meet my assistance dog Copper - though please do ask before talking to her or stroking her (as you should do with any dog, but particularly assistance dogs). Come and ask me about being a musician, not just about being a disabled one. Come and tell me how fantastic we sounded as an ensemble (I'm being presumptuous here!). All I ask is that you see me - Kat - and not just my disability.

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Being a disabled musician