Learning to Listen to the Bright Voice by Geena

Learning to Listen to the Bright Voice by Geena - May 2018 Scholarship Essay

Over the course of my life, I have sustained a passion for volunteering and take every opportunity to do so. I’ve tried my hand in many paths of volunteer work, from coaching a youth basketball team to helping runners warm up at the Special Olympics to participating annually in my school’s Relay for Life. All of these experiences have taught me new fundamental skills for collaboration and aid to others. However, my personal favorite and most impactful volunteer work combines two of my favorite parts of life: performing and establishing connections.
During high school, I was a member of a local performance group known as “We Are America”. We would often put on volunteer performances for veterans or assemblies in schools to simply bring some light, nostalgia, friendship and music to people’s day. I loved these performance days, whether I was singing an old military anthem or Christmas carol alike. I’ve always been passionate about singing and creating music in general. This was an outlet for me to express my voice, practice my performance skills and have an intimate connection with an audience. However, there was one volunteer performance in particular that I hold close with me every day since for the lessons it taught me. Here is a glimpse of the memory:
“Here. Be careful, it’s on.” I was handed an outdated microphone and nearly pushed to the center of the floor. I heard the trumpets of the karaoke track begin playing, and knew there was no turning back. In the sixteen bars I had to wait, my mind drifted to peculiar details. I noticed my hands were trembling slightly, and my necklace adorned with plastic jingle bells made muted “ding!” sounds as I moved. I neared the beat where I’d begin singing about rocking around a Christmas tree and took a deep breath, as if waiting for the pistol to pop in a track race. One would think I’d be used to this by now. I sing in holiday assemblies with my performance group every winter. In fact, I feel the most confident while performing these shows, entertaining elementary students watching me with baby-toothed smiles and wide eyes. I can let myself go without fear of the audience reacting negatively, since they’ll be on their feet dancing alongside me.
That was the reason I was so nervous. This school assembly was not my usual audience of little rascals, but rather the Cotting School for physically or mentally disabled students in Lexington, MA. I looked into a crowd decorated with metallic braces, walkers and wheelchairs. They were ready for a show and cheered as my voice echoed, “at the Christmas party hop….” I noticed one girl about my age who had a massive computer and headset attached to her wheelchair, type on a keyboard and turn the screen to face me. The screen, accompanied by a robotic voice, read, “I love this song!” I decided then to let go of all apprehensions to try to give these kids the performance they deserved.
People are inherently insecure and have a tendency to view themselves as what they’re not, rather than all they are. I am no exception. My main source of pre-performance butterflies comes from the persistent, tiny devil on my shoulder whispering reasons why I’m not good enough. However, there is a stronger, brighter voice reminding me how much music--and the connection I form with other people through music--means to me. I simply must choose which voice deserves to be heard.
When I saw my audience’s reactions as I sang, I realized I had been listening to the wrong voice. I was so caught up in the multitude of ranging disabilities in the room that I looked past their abilities. I was stuck in the mindset of seeing these people for what they’re not. It was incredibly daunting for me to think about entertaining an audience I couldn’t interact with. I had failed to see the “lighter” perspective of the situation, like the light in their eyes. I thought I needed the validation of someone clapping their hands, dancing or singing along to prove I was entertaining them. In reality, all I needed was a smile. During the hour- long assembly, each student’s face lit up and shone like starlight, creating the most beautiful sky I’d ever seen. As someone who is completely fixated by stars, that says a lot.
While singing my set, I was joyously surprised to find the kids dancing along in their own beautiful way. It was easy to pick out those who had both the ability and desire to sing, and they loved a moment with the microphone amplifying their unique voices. The rest of the audience found these interactions a hoot, rather than responding with envy at the gift of speech we’ve been granted. I can still feel the brilliant warmth and joy that was as undeniable as the oxygen in the auditorium.
Since then, my passion for performing has only grown stronger. I experienced firsthand the impact music has on any individual in any circumstance. It also raised awareness of how subconscious judgements hold people back from listening to the “right” voice. The bright voice.