Skip to main content

Welcome to Right to Sing - Voice, Vulnerability and Culture

 


For most of my professional life, I’ve been in and around singing—on stage, in the studio, in rehearsal rooms, and now, in the messy and meaningful work of research. Over the last few years, one theme has risen again and again in my teaching, my studies, and my own story: shame. Quiet shame. Loud shame. Tiny micro-shames that accumulate over time. The shame of not sounding good enough. Of losing your voice. Of caring too much. Of being replaced.

This blog is part of my ongoing work—both personal and academic—into understanding shame and objectification in the lives of singers. As a PhD researcher, I’m diving deep into the emotional worlds of professional vocalists. But this space isn’t just about research—it’s a conversation. A place to reflect, wonder, challenge, and reimagine what it means to teach and be taught in this field.

What to Expect

You’ll find a mix of things here:

💭 Noisy thoughts and vulnerable reflections from my own experiences
📚 Syntheses of academic research made accessible for teachers and artists
🧠 Explorations of pedagogical practices that move beyond correction and control
❤️ A deep belief that empathy, embodiment, and care are not “soft skills”—they’re the core of our craft

Some posts will draw from the giants of psychology, philosophy, and sociology. Others will be deeply personal. All will be written in my voice—with humility, curiosity, and a desire to connect. I’m not here to claim expertise over your lived experience, or to offer easy answers. I’m here to think out loud. To challenge what I’ve inherited. To imagine a more compassionate culture of singing.

A Note of Caution

Talking about shame can be uncomfortable. It certainly has been for me. It’s taken years of unlearning for me to even begin to name what I’d long ignored: the self-consciousness, comparison, and perfectionism I wore like a professional badge were often signs of a deeper wound.

So, if something here resonates—or rubs—know that you’re not alone. We don’t heal shame by avoiding it. We heal by naming it, together.

Why This Matters

Teaching voice is about far more than technique. It’s about power, permission, presence, and personhood. And when we teach without acknowledging the cultural and emotional forces that shape a singer’s identity, we risk reinforcing the very systems that wound them.

I believe in the possibility of something different.

A pedagogy rooted in care.
A culture where voices—literal and metaphorical—don’t have to earn their right to be heard.
A teaching practice that makes space for the whole singer.

Welcome to Right to Sing. I’m glad you’re here.

Subscribe to the blog

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Perfectionism, Singing, and the Quiet Toll on Mental Health

Perfectionism is a term we hear often in the arts, and in some circles, it’s even worn like a badge of honour. Many singers—including myself—take pride in setting high standards, and tireless preparation. But what happens when that drive to be perfect starts driving us ? I’ve spent much of my professional life in and around singing—as a performer, teacher, and now as a researcher. One thing I’ve noticed again and again is just how many singers identify as perfectionists. We often see it as a bit of a quirk or strength: evidence of our commitment, work ethic, and respect for the craft. And yet, for many of us, perfectionism hasn’t been a source of freedom. It’s been a source of suffering. In psychological literature, perfectionism is increasingly understood not just as a trait, but as a process —a way of thinking, behaving, and relating to oneself that can deeply affect emotional wellbeing. Self-oriented perfectionism, in particular, is common among musicians. This is the kind where t...

The Singer Who Doesn’t Sing

There was a time when singing felt as natural as breathing. Not just something I did—but who I was. From my teenage years, singing wasn’t a skill—it was my identity. It was how I connected, how I expressed joy, how I made people feel good. It made me feel attractive, wanted, visible. Before I knew I could sing, I didn’t think I had much to offer. But when I sang, people responded. And that response began to shape my sense of self. For years, I lived and worked as a singer. It was in my friendships, my social life, my work, my spirit. I belonged to communities of musicians. I was on stage. I was in the room. I was in it . And then—quietly—I wasn’t. When my voice began to feel unstable, when I no longer trusted it, I did what so many do with something precious and painful: I hid it. I didn’t talk about it. I didn’t announce anything. I just moved countries. I told myself I was starting a new life—and I was. But underneath that move was a quieter truth: I was finding a way to step o...

When a Voice Becomes a Thing: Objectification in Singing

Establishing the Ground I’ve been dancing around this for a while—wondering whether to lay down a kind of philosophical welcome mat for anyone curious enough to follow my writing. Part of me hesitated (I do love to leap straight into the deep end), but I know I use certain terms— shame , objectification , embodiment —that deserve some unpacking. So this post is a beginning. Or rather, a bridge. Over the next few blogs, I’ll share some of the frameworks that have shaped my research and teaching. None of them are fixed. They’re evolving—much like the singers I work with, and like me, as I keep reading, listening, and learning. These concepts don’t belong to me. But I’ve been holding them up to the light, testing them against real experiences. They’ve helped me understand something about the inner lives of singers—the quiet pressures and unspoken hurts—and I think they might help others, too. This isn’t about airtight definitions. It’s about naming the waters we’re swimming in—so we ...