Katmuss for LGBT+ History Month: “The Community I Didn’t Know I Craved”

You’d think that, what with music being a social art, the music industry would automatically be a sociable workplace.

However, for some parts of the music industry this is actually not true. Often you are left practising to yourself, honing a highly specific craft in the pursuit of perfection, whilst attending whatever passes for networking events, usually in loud bars, to “be seen” (pint, anyone??).

Well, that was my experience, anyway.

But I digress: I am Kat “Katmuss” Browning, and I am a single reeds player. Officially speaking, I am a classically trained (bass) clarinettist with no fewer than three degrees in music… though in reality, I have played in folk sessions since I was eight years old! 

My musical career

Being from a musical background, I’ve known from the beginning that the MU supports its members in any payment disputes, alongside other benefits such as FREE Public Liability Insurance up to £10m.

This was and still is essential when your music accompanies dancing, as does my family Ceilidh band Band y Braichmelyn.

I also learned that it offered free musical instrument insurance for up to £2k (up to £3k now!). This provided peace of mind when I upgraded my main clarinet to a semi-professional model during auditions for college.

So, off I toddled to the Leeds Conservatoire of Music (Leeds College back then!). Around halfway through my undergrad degree, I changed study from Jazz to the “classical” course.

One first class BA was followed by further degrees on a new pair of Bb and A Selmer Clarinets (i.e. what Apple Products are to, say Samsungs) at Bangor University and the Royal Northern College of Music. Peachy, right?

Dealing with the ups and downs of my mental health

Above is the official and heavily sanitised description of my musical career up to this point. What I haven’t detailed are the ups and downs of my mental health, including the fallout from an Autism diagnosis in my late 20s.

While the diagnosis made sense of a lot of things (including the fact that my communication style was filtered through my musical experiences), it also threw me for a loop.

Let me explain: have you ever had an earworm, i.e. a piece of music that stays with you, in your head for a few days?

Studies show that musicians tend to experience this even more intensely than their non-musical counterparts (see music psychologist Dr Victoria Williamson’s work…!), and I was no different; Autism and obsessive tendencies are bedmates, and this constant refrain meant companionship, even if iI didn’t know it at the time.

Devastatingly, though, this refrain… soon stopped. Life was dark, and so quiet.

I was so lonely.

Instrumental practice became an exercise in self-inflicted doubt

Days would slip by without speaking to another human being, and I only had my own toxic thoughts for company.

Instrumental practice became an exercise in self-inflicted doubt and vitriol… in retrospect, the lockdowns during the pandemic were a doddle in comparison.

Thankfully, though, I was pulled back from the brink by rediscovered communities; firstly, my prodigal return to folk music (on bass clarinet no less!) meant that tunes finally broke through the anxiety, and circled my wee heid for days.

Despite losing a little sleep to these earworms, it was still like breathing the freshest air after a sickroom. I honestly cried. It was such a relief.

Discovering activism through the LGBT+ network

Around the same time, I joined the LGBTQ+ network at the Musicians’ Union. There, I tentatively allowed the world a peep at a little-seen side of myself: my bisexuality.

Being straight-passing to masking as a neurotypical human: you can shamefully let the microaggressions slide, so long as you personally are not singled out.

Besides, LGBTQ+ Pride Parades are great and very necessary for the LGBTQ+ population as a whole but… not necessarily accessible for someone on the spectrum. 

In short, I sort of… mentally shoved this side of myself into the attic of what it was to be Me.

You see, I had felt too “beige-sexual” to consider myself a real part of the rather more *glittery* community... but when I joined one of the MU’s recent LGBTQ+ network’s Pride planning meetings (as chairperson, no less!) I discovered what I call a “tea-n-biscuits activist” in me.

The community I didn’t know I craved

My long-honed skills as an administrator and writer (my day jobs!) lent themselves well to helping planning Pride Marches, merchandise, alternative Pride events - you name it, we discussed it - watch this (Pride) space!

So, for me, the MU has become more than the benefits for its members; it is more than the music industry.

It is the community I didn’t know I craved.