Something you might not know about me is that a long time ago, I used to sing.
I'd sing to Bollywood songs, in the back of our car, as my mom smiled at me in the rearview mirror.
I'd sing in the shower, with my boombox blasting, and imagine that one day - I'd do it on stage.
I'd sing in my room, until I cried, and sing some more, until I stopped.
My mom could tell that I loved to sing, and graciously offered to put me in voice lessons. I could tell she loved to sing too - but would do it quietly, under her breath.
I took group lessons with an Indian woman, wrote Sa Re Ga Ma Pa in my plaid green notebook. I took private lessons with a Chinese woman, and reached a whole new level of armpit sweat there.
After a few weeks of privates, I got ready for the student showcase. I arrived in a lime green top, my hair carefully straightened into place.
During rehearsal - I bombed. I'm talking - screeching, off pitch notes. And bless this woman, she comforted me - and told me it was just my nerves. She told me to take some deep breaths, freshen up in the bathroom, and so I followed her instructions the best I could. I went into the bathroom, took some paper towels to my pits, and steeled myself for the stage once again.
I use "stage" lightly - we were on the ground floor with the audience, which consisted of the families of her students. I saw my parents walk in, camcorder in tow, and sit down as they eagerly awaited.
When it was my turn to go - I bombed. Again. And immediately ran down the aisle, out the door. The tears came faster and stronger than my will to stop them, and I couldn't believe what I had just done.
I felt ashamed beyond belief, like I had wasted my parents' time, wasted all those weeks of lessons, wasted so much of their hard-earned money. I fucked it up, completely, and was steeped in my own embarassment, bewildered at how it could go so terribly wrong.
I never went back to the Chinese woman, or any other teacher for that matter - putting to bed my love of singing.
So it was curious when last year - after quitting my Corporate job, one of the things I wrote down was "voice lessons."
Voice lessons? Really? Are we doing this again? My mind said "no," so I left it there, untouched.
Months went by, and to be honest, I didn't think about it much - besides a passing thought of, "yeah, could be fun."
And then the word arrived again, this time in feedback from my writing class, as they told me - "your voice is so strong on the page."
This felt like a massive compliment to receive, as writers spend years honing their voice. But it didn't sit right, not really, because part of me felt like a fraud. "What good is my 'voice' if it only exists on this page, as a construction? Why can't my voice be this strong in real time?"
So, as people do, I decided to turn to TikTok. To experiment with using my voice out loud. And much to my surprise, I didn't bomb, or cry, or die of shame - I just said things, and put them out into the ether.
The past few weeks, I've played with this more - creating videos mostly for fun. Practiced opening what I'm learning is my throat chakra. And for the first time in years, for the first time in so long - I am singing in the shower once again.
I am singing when I am on an electric scooter in the park.
I am singing songs from the 90's in my kitchen.
I am singing to my husband in a playful, silly way.
I am singing with myself, as I dance.
While it is sad - so sad - to realize that I had been clamping my own mouth shut, it has been beautiful to take the muzzle off, too. Not because I want to become a professional singer, or sing in public, but because I understand I don't have to.
There can be things that are just for me, without anyone else needing to see them. Without anyone needing to hear what's inside.
And there can also be things that are for more than just me - things that come up, and out, and through me.
What is funny about all of this, is that when I think back to those days - when singing felt so inherent to my being. What I remember is what I had always loved the most - which was the feeling of being in choir.
From Kindergarten, through elementary school, through middle school, my greatest love - was feeling my voice meld with the ones that were around me.
Using my voice in community was what always gave me goosebumps - it's where my armpits stayed dry, my eyes wide.
It wasn't the accolades, the performances, the advancement into A Capella.
It was the "ping" from the piano that we attuned to.
It wasn't how great our school choir was, or more accurately, was not.
It was the moment of silence that steeled us, together.
It didn't matter how great I was alone, on my own.
It was the swell that emerged from us, as one.
When I realize this - it is so obvious why I was meant to bomb that day, because I was never really meant to go solo.
I was always meant for community, for communion with something higher.
My voice was meant to harmonize with others.
My pits are sweating, my voice is ready - to meet yours.
With love,
-Av