The human voice

"Food doesn't tempt you. Shopping doesn't tempt you. Then what tempts you?" Shermaine asked me.

"I am a very emotional person. I get tempted by emotions. Anything that moves me."

Shermaine's question set me thinking - what really tempts me? It is quite a strange question because food and shopping seem to be common preoccupations for fellow Singaporeans. However, it does not really interest me very much. As I ponder a little more, I came to realise that singing in a choir tempts me.

My relationship with singing goes a long way back to the time when I was a child. No, I never took voice classes nor was I a prodigy singer. I recall my mother singing lullabies to my sister when she was a baby. I am sure she sang them to me when I was a baby but I do not have that in my conscious memory. Nevertheless, I remember many songs, nursery rhymes and the sound of my mother's voice throughout my childhood years. Although my mother is not one who expresses her love and affection openly, I can certainly sense it from her actions and the soothing tone of her voice when she sings. That is how singing connects to me - it keeps me feeling warm and fuzzy, and very much close to home.

When I was fourteen, I joined the school choir and discovered my love for choral singing. First of all, I am thankful that I have a gift and talent in singing and this has given me an opportunity to use this part of myself to produce music. The special thing about the human voice is that, it is a part of each and everyone of us. I bring this voice, this instrument, everywhere I go. Of course I can sing as a soloist, which I do from time to time. But I much prefer to do so with a group of singers.

There is no voice that is completely identical, maybe similar, but each one is different, distinct and unique. The tone and quality belongs to the person who owns the voice and has the characteristic of his or her personality. We can try to imitate or emulate another person but that will no longer be ours and will not be representative of who we are. The special thing about singing in a choir is the bringing together of many individual voices to create music.

After I graduated from University, I took a hiatus from the choral scene due to work commitments and devoting my time to caring for my children as a young mother. I was fairly out of touch with singing as a chorister but I knew that deep down inside, I was itching to sing in a choir. A year ago, Dawn, a lovely friend of mine, gently nudged me to audition to sing in ONE, a choir which she actively sang in. I was tempted. I was tempted for some time after hearing them sing at a concert the previous year. I did not take too long to contemplate about it and soon, I found myself singing regularly with the choir on Saturday afternoons.

This summer, I travelled to Portugal to perform with ONE and gained several insights about choral singing. We did not always have proper venues for our practices so we would sing in the park or in random public spaces. Of course, this attracted attention from passers-by and sometimes, they would stop and listen, perhaps mistakenly thinking that we were performing for them. At the end of each song, we would be encouraged by their applause. I realised that there is no performance without an audience - this is our symbiotic relationship. There is no such thing as an audience if there is no show to watch!

"The aim of art is to represent not the outward appearance of things, but their inward significance." - Aristotle

The next question that came to mind was - what constitutes a good performance? Is it a choral piece which is made up of complex harmonies and sophisticated rhythms? Is it done by trained singers, led by a reputable conductor? Sure, these will produce excellent music and possibly a perfect performance but a good performance must have heart. A good performance must have soul. Without which, a choir will not be able to reach out to the audience and they will not be moved. The audience will experience "eargasm" without feeling or emotion.

How is a choir supposed to have that heart and soul?

The choir must exists as a single entity. Neither the members nor the conductor can be individualistic or self-centred. I recognise that we are each unique and different individuals but when we sing, that musical mosaic must demonstrate a tapestry of music which reflects our love for one another and our relationship as a choir. There must be mutual trust and respect. This way, the choir will have a life of its own, with a heart and a soul.

The choir is very human. We have good days and bad days. There are times when we feel good about ourselves, when we are in high spirits, when we feel connected with one another - then we sing well, we are able to bring joy to the audience, they can feel the music. They will become inspired. When we are feeling under the weather, out of sorts, unhappy and disconnected, the audience will sense the dissonance. They will not be moved. Where music is concerned, I feel that one has to be passionate but not tensed. Tension will prevent the music from flowing and the sound will come out too hard or perhaps, even overbearing. Being too self-critical and having self-doubt or too high expectations of oneself are likely to create that tension in your voice and these aspects of yourself may hold back the music in you which you would like to convey to the world.

Good music is not about perfection but about true sincerity. That is what the audience want to experience - a heartfelt, sincere performance.

"Live to create love, art, music, peace and poetry. Bring to the world what no one else has and find passion in it." - Robert Tew

[This piece of writing is dedicated to my fellow choristers in ONE and of course our choral director, Ms Lim Ai Hooi. The music from the choir has touched me and the sincerity of each individual member has moved me. I must say that the past year with ONE has been an enriching and life-changing period of my life and the trip to Portugal is certainly a highlight of my life. Thank you to each and everyone of you!]

The voice of an adolescent

When I was doing my counselling training in 2006, I was introduced to an interesting mode of therapy. Instead of the usual one-to-one sessions, we can work with a small group of clients in a group setting. The modality of this approach, known as group therapy, has its unique advantages and benefits, which cannot be achieved in individual therapy. Despite its usefulness, it is quite unheard of in this part of the world where I practice since our Asian clients tend to find it anxiety-provoking to share their innermost thoughts and feelings within a group setting. Actually, I feel that this is probably not very different from the hesitations and inhibitions of people from other countries and cultures as well. Generally, once a certain level of safety and trust is established within the group, the group will feel more comfortable about sharing and engaging each other.

I took the opportunity to propose setting up such groups among certain groups of girls in the school I work in. Since this was a new initiative, I was uncertain about its efficacy and whether the approach will be too strange or foreign for them. For a start, I did not call it a therapy group and I designed it to have a slightly more semi-structured approach, which I felt would be a better fit.

During the first session, a particular theme arose among the fifteen-year old girls within the group as they attempted to have a voice, to have their voice heard.

“Never be bullied into silence. Never allow yourself to be made a victim. Accept no one’s definition of your life; define yourself.”
– Harvey Fierstein

Initially, I wanted to use this quote to inspire the girls but I realised that it was extremely difficult for them to find their voice and how they would like to define themselves. I had apparently forgotten how difficult it was for me when I was that age. As they search out the meaning of their lives, to discover what they truly desire for themselves, they are bombarded by the voices of adults - through their parents, relatives, teachers, politicians, various other adults and even the media and numerous propaganda. I say bombarded because these voices are really loud, significant, distracting and possibly even jarring at times. The girls become confused and wonder if they can really be the person they choose to be. Do they have a choice? Do they have a say? Did I have a say when I was fifteen?

When I was fifteen, I was studying in one of the elite girls’ school. My parents expected no less than that. My sisters and I studied in different high schools - all among the top all-girls’ schools in the nation. My father wished for us to be doctors, lawyers, engineers or accountants. These were considered reputable professional careers, which will give us a comfortable income and a respectable social status. At that time, I thought that my father would be proud if I became a doctor but when I failed to obtain the subject combination which included biology, I decided to give up the idea of pursuing a medical career. I was not sure if the other approved options fit my aspirations. I was interested in people, in human psychology. I talked about it from time to time, never sounding too adamant nor insistent because I was not sure if my voice would be heard, whether my father would approve of the pursuit of such an interest.

One girl in the group lamented that her mother insisted that she has to be a lawyer. “I don't really mind becoming a lawyer, but I wish my mum did not bug me so much.”

“My parents are the same,” another girl added. “I want to be a dancer but my parents don't think I can make much money that way. Sigh... I may not be able to make much money but I think I will be much happier since I will be doing something which I truly love.”

As adults, we think we know better. We think we know what is best for these young ladies. Besides, we have a wider range of lived experiences so we are in a much better position to give sound advices (or so we think). We think that it is our responsibility as custodians of their lives, to guide them to a bright and promising future where they will be successful and well-accomplished individuals in society. We prefer to encourage our youth to stick to careers, which are tried-and-tested while the artistic, literary or humanistic professions are often frown upon - not because they are less glamorous but they do not guarantee a stable and secure career.

“This is for your own good,” my father’s favourite line to his three daughters. I resented that dreaded well-sung phrase that kept playing in my ears as an adolescent. I wondered if I would be doing something wrong if I did not appreciate my parents’ well-meaning intentions to guide me to the right path in life. I wondered if I would regret not listening to them if I chose something radically different. What would be really good for me? As a teenager looking at my father, he was a successful engineer who earned enough to provide the family with a comfortable home and lifestyle. Surely, he knew what was good for me, “for your own good”.

“Why can’t my mother listen to me?”

“Why don’t my parents understand that I don’t like numbers and Maths is just not my subject?”

“Can you talk to my parents?”

The girls were frustrated. They felt stuck. They wanted to make their own decisions about their future. Studying felt so meaningless because whatever they were taught will not be relevant to their future career. It did not make sense to memorise all the terms and the lengthy passages just to obtain the perfect GPA of 4.0. Why bother?

When I was in school, life seemed less complicated. We did not question as much. We just studied what we were told to study. Our goal was to obtain as many ‘A’s as we possibly can, to the best of our ability. Then, scramble to collect the paper certifications and qualifications that were deemed valuable and marketable. That was the norm then. I did the norm. I excelled (did well enough, I guess) in Mathematics and Sciences, enrolled into one of the top junior colleges, did the correct thing to major in engineering and of course, became the engineer that my father approved of. I earned myself a nickname then, coined by my sisters – The Accidental Engineer, or AE for short. Engineering never quite resonated with me.

When I decided to make the career switch to become a counsellor, my father was cross. He was extremely angry with me. But he never quite told me directly. It was the old-fashioned Chinese father’s way of communicating to his daughter – convey the anger to the mother and expect that the mother will advise the daughter accordingly.

“Tell Michelle that she is very stupid, to give up her engineering job and get a pay-cut as a counsellor!”

During dinners with relatives and friends, my sisters were always mentioned and talked about. You see, one of them is a qualified medical doctor and the other is pursuing her medical degree. Ah, doctors! The prestigious career option! Counsellor? How much do counsellors get paid? Was this daughter not smart enough to get into medical school?

I felt like the outcast, somewhat a disgrace to the family. I desired affirmation from my parents, which I could not get. I was in a difficult place and I felt very alone in this new endeavour. I yearned for their support and encouragement. I realised that my parents struggled too. On one hand, they wanted to see me happy doing what I enjoy. On the other hand, since it deviated from what they are familiar with, they were unsure if I would be risking too much by forgoing a stable career as an engineer.

My father no longer chides me for quitting my engineering job. My parents have come to terms with my decision. But from time to time, my father would still ask me, “When are you going to do your PhD?” That is my father.

Many parents unknowingly and unwittingly impose their hopes, wishes, dreams, desires and aspirations on their children. They want their children to tread on territories, which they have never been before and attain remarkable and spectacular achievements, which they failed to accomplish as a child. We think that by setting the bar as high as possible, we may be able to stretch them to their fullest potential and be exceptional in anything and everything.

How realistic are our expectations? How much of what we do as adults is really a tussle with our own anxieties? If the adolescent does not do well, we may be seen as a parent who has failed, a lousy teacher, an irresponsible adult who did not do what we should do or can do. We are afraid that our children will struggle to make ends meet or not have a good job if they faired poorly in school. We are worried that they will blame us for not giving them the right advice when they needed it. We fear that society will mock us for not doing our duty if we did not show our children the correct path to take in life.

At the end of the day, each of us is and can only be responsible for our own lives. By the time the child becomes an adolescent, she (also applicable to “he”) needs to develop the skills required as an adult to learn to make her own decisions and decide what she desires for herself and how she wants to live her life. We are here to support and encourage her in her journey of discovery and adventure of life. We are here to facilitate the process, to show her the options and the possibilities. Not to restrict her, nor to stifle her, nor to tell her what to do.

I am not suggesting that the adults let go completely. I am not suggesting that the adolescents defy and disregard everything that the adults say.

This is more like a dance, a tango of sorts.

We play our respective parts.

Then, we allow these youth the autonomy to be the architects and fashioners of their own desired future.

There is no absolute right or wrong in the journey of life because life is not static but a dynamic evolution of the choices and decisions we make. It is how we live our life, which makes it meaningful.

The voice of an adolescent

It has been a while since I have run therapy groups. It is quite unheard of in this part of the world and clients often find it anxiety-provoking to share their thoughts and feelings within a group setting. Actually I feel that this is probably not very different from the hesitations and inhibitions of people from other countries as well. Generally, once a certain level of safety and trust is established, the group will feel more comfortable about sharing and engaging others within the group.

Yesterday, I had the opportunity to set up such groups among the girls I am working with. I did not call it a therapy group because that is too foreign and I felt that for a start, a slightly more semi-structured approach will fit better. Anyway, I am not about to launch into a full-length essay and discussion about what a therapy group entails. Instead, I would like to dwell on some of my thoughts about my attempts to help these 15 year-olds have a voice, and let their voice be heard.

While I was preparing for this group, I came across a powerful quote:

“Never be bullied into silence. Never allow yourself to be made a victim. Accept no one’s definition of your life; define yourself.” – Harvey Fierstein

I sat in the groups (I ran two groups, with seven girls each) and listened to their struggles. I realised that it is extremely difficult for them to find their voice and how they would like to define themselves. As they search out the meaning of their lives, to discover what they truly desire for themselves, they are bombarded by the voices of adults - through their parents, relatives, teachers, politicians, various other adults and even the media and numerous propaganda. I say "bombarded" because these voices are really loud, significant, distracting and possibly even jarring at times. The girls become confused and wonder if they can really be the person they choose to be. Do they have a choice? Do they have a say?

As adults, we think we know better. We think we know what is best for these young ladies. Besides, we have a wider range of lived experiences so we would be in a much better position to give sound advices (or so we think). We think that it is our responsibility as the custodians of their lives, to guide them to a bright and promising future where they will be successful and well-accomplished individuals in society. As parents, we tend to expect a lot from our children. Many parents unknowingly and unwittingly impose their hopes, wishes, dreams, desires and aspirations on their children. They want their children to tread on territories which they have never been before and attain remarkable and spectacular achievements which they failed to accomplish as a child. We think that by setting the bar as high as possible, we may be able to stretch them to their fullest potential and be exceptional in anything and everything.


The question is, "How realistic are our expectations?" How much of what we do as adults is really a tussle with our own anxieties? If the adolescent does not do well, we may be seen as a parent who has failed, a lousy teacher, an irresponsible adult who did not do what we should do or can do.

At the end of the day, each of us is and can only be responsible for our own lives. By the time the child becomes an adolescent, she (also applicable to "he") needs to develop the skills required as an adult to learn to make her own decisions and decide what she desires for herself and how she wants to live her life. We are here to support and encourage her in her journey of discovery and adventure of life. We are here to facilitate the process, to show her the options and the possibilities. Not to restrict her, nor to stifle her, nor to tell her what to do.

Let us now take the time to listen to the voices of our adolescents, rather than to have them repeat after us.