I've been in a succession of church choirs for a long time, since probably fourth grade. And there are certain things that you hear all the time, when you're in a children's choir--most commonly some variant on "I can't hear you!"
The technical term for singing or speaking to be heard by the people listening from the back pews is "projecting your voice," or just "projecting" for short. I've always been good at it. And so, my mom frequently reminded me, the admonishments to "sing louder" and "project more" never meant me.
I wanted to be heard. I love my voice, and it felt good to sing out loudly, but I was always chastised for it, because even though I was so often the only one with the will and the voice to be heard, I wasn't supposed to be so loud. It was worse because there were often microphones, so I would have to quiet my voice further so as not to overpower the amplification systems.
In choir, that kind of point is fair enough, since a choir is meant to be comprised of voices in harmony rather than one loud singer surrounded by a bunch of quiet voices. (That's called a rock band--a valid technique, but not the goal here.) If it had only been in choir, perhaps it wouldn't have left such a mark on my memory. Unfortunately, everywhere else I looked, the same tensions were in effect, repeated over and over again. Don't sing so loud. But I love the way it feels. Don't attract attention. Why not? It's more interesting. Don't sing here! But I sing everywhere else--I communicate better in song. You're supposed to be quiet and obedient. My voice is just loud like that. Children should be seen and not heard. I want to be heard more than seen.
I recognize now, it was all of a piece. I was supposed to grow up to be "normal," or at least easy to ignore. I wasn't supposed to be loud and opinionated, and especially not with unpopular opinions like "I like the body God gave me." (Side note: it's crazy, how much it's discouraged for girls to be happy with how God designs them. Apparently I'm supposed to hate all the little advantages I'm so grateful for, that make simply walking around and existing in my body easier, but why in the world would I?)
Last year, I acted in a play at a Shakespeare theater--one that didn't have microphones on the stage. And, finally, during rehearsal, the director told me, "Project louder! I want to be able to hear you from the back row."
At first I was shocked and almost offended, but then I realized what she was saying. I was allowed to use the full power of my voice--in fact, I needed to. Be loud. Be yourself. Be heard. Use your gifts, the way they were meant to.
I think everyone needs to hear that, in their own way:
Be who you are, and use what you have, and don't limit your talents because they're too big.
The technical term for singing or speaking to be heard by the people listening from the back pews is "projecting your voice," or just "projecting" for short. I've always been good at it. And so, my mom frequently reminded me, the admonishments to "sing louder" and "project more" never meant me.
I wanted to be heard. I love my voice, and it felt good to sing out loudly, but I was always chastised for it, because even though I was so often the only one with the will and the voice to be heard, I wasn't supposed to be so loud. It was worse because there were often microphones, so I would have to quiet my voice further so as not to overpower the amplification systems.
In choir, that kind of point is fair enough, since a choir is meant to be comprised of voices in harmony rather than one loud singer surrounded by a bunch of quiet voices. (That's called a rock band--a valid technique, but not the goal here.) If it had only been in choir, perhaps it wouldn't have left such a mark on my memory. Unfortunately, everywhere else I looked, the same tensions were in effect, repeated over and over again. Don't sing so loud. But I love the way it feels. Don't attract attention. Why not? It's more interesting. Don't sing here! But I sing everywhere else--I communicate better in song. You're supposed to be quiet and obedient. My voice is just loud like that. Children should be seen and not heard. I want to be heard more than seen.
I recognize now, it was all of a piece. I was supposed to grow up to be "normal," or at least easy to ignore. I wasn't supposed to be loud and opinionated, and especially not with unpopular opinions like "I like the body God gave me." (Side note: it's crazy, how much it's discouraged for girls to be happy with how God designs them. Apparently I'm supposed to hate all the little advantages I'm so grateful for, that make simply walking around and existing in my body easier, but why in the world would I?)
Last year, I acted in a play at a Shakespeare theater--one that didn't have microphones on the stage. And, finally, during rehearsal, the director told me, "Project louder! I want to be able to hear you from the back row."
At first I was shocked and almost offended, but then I realized what she was saying. I was allowed to use the full power of my voice--in fact, I needed to. Be loud. Be yourself. Be heard. Use your gifts, the way they were meant to.
I think everyone needs to hear that, in their own way:
Be who you are, and use what you have, and don't limit your talents because they're too big.
No comments:
Post a Comment