Katarina Barruk sings for Sámi culture and the Ume language

For Ume Sámi artist Katarina Barruk, music isn’t just expression, it’s preservation. Through her voice, one of the world’s most endangered languages finds rhythm, resistance, and rebirth. Having devoted the majority of her life turning resistance into rhythm through her voice, she is fighting to ensure that the Ume Sámi language – with reportedly only a tiny handful of remaining speakers – finds breath again.

“I’ve always known I wanted to be a musician and an artist,” she says. ​“Ever since I was a child, singing and joiking (a traditional form of Sámi singing that mimics nature) have been a big part of me.” She grew up between Lusspie (Storuman) and Gajhrege in the Swedish Arctic Circle Sábmie region in a home filled with both struggle and belief. Her parents were on the frontline of a quiet revolution, fighting to revitalise the Ume Sámi language – a language many believed couldn’t survive. ​“I saw them believe in something that others thought was impossible, the survival and development of our language. That shaped me. It taught me that I could do whatever I dreamed of, and that I should do what I love. Music.”

Her earliest memories of Ume Sámi aren’t about learning the language, but about realising what it meant to have one at all. At 15, she went to a Sámi confirmation camp, excited to finally be surrounded by others who shared her roots. ​“I thought, finally, I’ll be in the majority,” she says. ​“But when I got there, no one had even heard of Ume Sámi. None of the songs or readings were in my language.” That moment hit hard. ​“I didn’t have access to my own language within my own culture. But it was never an option not to stand up for it.” By the end of the camp, she’d written and performed her first song in Ume Sámi. ​“That was the start of my musical journey,” she says. ​“After that, I never turned my back on it.”

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For Katarina, music became a way to give breath back to words that were disappearing. ​“When you put melodies to words, you give them new life,” she says. ​“They start living in another way.” Growing up, she had no musicians to look up to who sang in her own language, and now she’s helping change that. ​“Ume Sámi kids can hear their language in my songs. That means everything.”

Still, the absence of representation remains. ​“Two years ago, after playing over 150 concerts, I went to see another Sámi artist in Oslo. She was singing in Northern Sámi, the most common Sámi language, and suddenly I realised I’ve never been to a concert in my own language.” The thought hit home hard. ​“I told myself, okay Katarina, dream. Focus. One day, when I’m old and done performing, I want to walk into a concert hall and hear an Ume Sámi artist, someone better than me, singing. I’ll get to sit down, rest, and hear my language fill the room. That’s my dream.”

Her breakthrough came in 2012, when she was named Young Sámi Artist of the Year at Riddu Riđđu, an international Indigenous festival. The attention was instant and revealing. ​“There was a lot of media interest,” she says. ​“But no one wanted to talk about my music. Everyone wanted to know what Ume Sámi was.” It became clear that her songs could carry more than melody. ​“That’s when I realised my music could raise awareness, that it could make people see our language.”

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The love she gets from her community keeps her grounded. ​“When I go home to language gatherings, the support is overwhelming. People cheer me on. It’s such a warm feeling.” And performing in Ume Sámi? ​“It feels like the coolest, most powerful, epic thing ever, I’m so proud. This is a language that the states tried to erase, but it lives on in me. It connects me with the land, my ancestors, and the future.”

Lately, Katarina has been thinking about what it means to bring Sámi art to global stages. ​“When I started, I only cared about reaching my own people, showing them that our language is something to be proud of, something to wear like a beautiful cloak,” she says. ​“That hasn’t changed. But now I feel a responsibility to go out into the world and tell our story.”

Over time, that vision has deepened. For Katarina, performing beyond Sábmie isn’t about leaving her community behind, it’s about making their presence undeniable. ​“When people everywhere know what Ume Sámi is, our existence can no longer be questioned,” she says. ​“That’s what drives me now.” This story extends beyond Katarina Barruk, albeit she is one of the key driving factors, the main goal moving forwards is to ensure that the language is never forgotten, she explains: ​“It’s not just about me anymore. It’s about making sure our language keeps singing long after I’m gone.”

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Ben Broyd is a freelance writer. Follow him on Instagram.

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