It is a narrative too infrequently regarded when discussing jazzwomen instrumentalists: women simply being.
And yet there it is necessary to celebrate women presenting themselves as their full selves, whether performing or not; women for whom “playing like a girl” should be no more be dismissive of her talents as a woman who blows a trumpet, trombone or saxophone, or those playing the drums or bass should be deemed “unlady like,” or “a dyke.” Yes, those are the monikers for women who dare. A read of Paul de Barros’ biography of McPartland, Shall We Play That One Together, or James Dickerson’s Just for a Thrill: Lil’ Hardin Armstrong, First Lady of Jazz,” Sherrie Tucker’s Swing Shift: “All Girl” Bands of the 1940s or Sally Placksin work, American Women in Jazz: 1900-Present, Their Words, Lives and Music, reveal the stories of women throughout history rising above, and against, the male, cis-gendered, heteronormative gatekeepers; breaking through boys’ club doors and glass ceilings of an industry that women have been a part of since the inception of the genre.
If you pay attention, there’s a particular narrative in Art Kane’s eminent 1958 black and white portrait of 57 jazz musicians, “A Great Day in Harlem.” It’s wholly unintentional, to be certain, but one that speaks of sisterhood. To the right of the photograph, in a sea of male faces, are those of pianists Marian McPartland; she in a halter dress holding her purse, gazing toward her casually dressed counterpart Mary Lou Williams; cigarette in one hand and a pocketbook in the other. No primed smiles or sultry poses; just two artists appearing more engaged with one other than with any of the men—including the one gazing behind the camera.
