By Dr Sandy Geyer
The practice is already in full swing when the comment lands. Not a sharp, deliberate insult — just one of those old phrases that has floated through pipe bands for generations, referring to a part of the female anatomy in a way that is meant to be funny. A few of the older male players chuckle out of habit. A younger male piper lets out a small laugh, the kind that tries to signal belonging even when the body stiffens slightly in discomfort.
Across the room, two female players shift their weight, eyes on something on the floor. An older gentleman looks down at his chanter. The pipe major carries on, seemingly unaware that anything noteworthy has happened.
But something has happened.
Not loudly. Not dramatically. Just a moment in which every person in the room feels, in their own way, that the words don’t quite fit.
These moments pass, but the feelings do not.
The recent Women in Piping and Drumming study released by The National Piping Centre showed that pipe band communities are attracting girls in healthy numbers at youth level — but losing them at an alarming rate after they leave school. Not because the music becomes harder. Not because life gets busy.
But because of an accumulating sense of not belonging — a quiet erosion rather than a single event.
Behind the active acts of exclusion the study explored — clear harassment, blatant bias, obvious obstacles — a deeper pattern surfaced: the quiet, cumulative power of everyday cues that shape who feels welcome, safe, respected… and who does not.
As someone who has piped for decades, in two countries and across multiple bands, I have lived inside these moments more times than I can count, and I am still counting. I could speak up every time, but then I risk becoming seen as the problem. This is not a surface-level problem, and it cannot effectively be addressed at surface level.
What I’ve learnt in my lived playing experiences, in my doctoral work, and in my leadership research is this: Culture doesn’t change in statements. It changes in subtleties. For example;
1. The Weight of Words
Language is one of the most powerful carriers of culture we have — not because of what is said, but because of what it signals.
A joke that lands awkwardly tells women, transgender players, neurodiverse players, and LGBTQ+ players one quiet message:
“This space wasn’t shaped with you in mind. Adjust accordingly.”
A young male player who hears it might not find it personally offensive, but he feels the tension between wanting approval and knowing the moment didn’t sit right.
An older male player — perhaps one with daughters or granddaughters — might feel suddenly “ungentlemanly by association,” wishing for a time when bands were all-male simply because then he wouldn’t have to navigate this discomfort at all.
And the person delivering the commentary is rarely acting with harmful intent — simply repeating the language they inherited from the generation before them. A generation they respected.
This is passive exclusion: a quiet, yet significant erosion of belonging that wears players down long before a crisis ever occurs.
2. The Hidden Listeners
If adults feel unsure how to respond, imagine how it lands for young pipers — especially the ones just finding their musical identity. Children and teenagers are silent observers of culture. They learn what leadership looks like by watching how we behave, not by what we claim to value.
A young player who sees uncomfortable language overlooked or laughed off learns very quickly:
- Fitting in matters more than speaking up.
- Confidence belongs to some; silence belongs to others.
- Humour is a currency of belonging — even when it hurts.
And this doesn’t only affect girls or women.
Boys who want to do the right thing feel the pressure to stay neutral.
Neurodiverse players — who often take language literally or process social cues and emotion differently — can feel completely lost in a room that suddenly doesn’t make sense.
Gender-diverse or LGBTQ+ players may interpret that moment as a warning to stay invisible.
And then there is one of the most striking findings of the NPC research:
The loss of our female players is preventable.
They are not leaving for lack of passion for our music. They are leaving because the spaces that nurtured them as learners did not evolve to hold them as peers.
If we want the future of pipe bands to be strong, inclusive, and sustainable, this is where the work begins: not in correcting the old players, but in equipping the next generation.
3. What We Are Really Teaching
Across both my leadership research and my piping journey, these teachings remain consistent:
Awareness is a learned skill. Belonging is a practice. Leadership is a culture we build, not a badge we wear and pass on.
This is why the NPC’s recent research is so important. It gives language to what so many have felt but could not articulate — and it validates that these experiences are not isolated.
Research becomes powerful when we translate it into learning. And piping and drumming offer a unique opportunity to do this well.
Imagine if youth and summer schools included:
- Discussions on the difference between socially normalised inappropriate behavior (including humour) and genuinely inclusive behaviour
- A basic introduction to communication styles — why some players are task-focused while others are relationship-focused. How to recognise and manage these for ourselves and with others
- Conversation around how language impacts dignity, belonging, and psychological safety
- Proven methods to personally identify core values, buried in our subconscious, that respond highly sensitively to certain situations — and drive our responses
- Practical guidance on what to do when something doesn’t feel right, for all players
- A segment on neurodiversity — supporting all players to understand different processing patterns
- Space to reflect on leadership: What kind of culture do you want to build in your future band? The difference between “being a leader from within” and “doing leadership by imitation”
None of this replaces musical excellence. These foundational awareness skills do not take a lot of time to lay down. But they strengthen the circles in which musical excellence is made.
4. Belonging Beyond Gender
Talking about gender in pipe bands shouldn’t close out wider inclusion — it should open the door to it.
The same dynamics that marginalise women also shape the experiences of:
- neurodiverse players,
- LGBTQ+ players,
- players from culturally diverse backgrounds,
- quieter or introverted players,
- and even young men who don’t resonate with old-school, militarised models of leadership.
In other words: When we make space for one group, we make space for many. Belonging is not a limited resource — it expands when shared. Recognising difference doesn’t divide or fracture the circle; it strengthens it.
Because what people long for is not sameness, but the safety to be fully themselves in all their difference.
5. Choosing Who We Become
Pipe bands have always carried the DNA of history — military roots, inherited traditions, old stories. These provide us with a sense of coming from somewhere significant, but here is the thing: history is not destiny.
We are in a moment where the piping world has a rare opportunity:
We can evolve without losing identity. We can modernise without losing heart. We can strengthen tradition by expanding who gets to be part of it.
And it starts, quite simply, with raising our awareness of the small things, such as,
The joke that doesn’t fit. The silence that says too much. The discomfort that tells us something important is happening.
I write to invite, not to criticise. Our music deserves nothing less than all of us — fully seen, fully heard, and playing as one.
Dr. Sandy Geyer is an author, educator, business leader and competitive piper living in New Zealand. She holds a doctorate in entrepreneurial leadership preparation (DPP) and works internationally in leadership development for students, teachers, and business owners.