I’ve never been shy about sharing my voice. I’m that annoying guy in the third row of your 8 AM that constantly has another question to ask, another opinion to share. This need to express myself is what led me to my major (International Relations) so I could get involved in politics – which is unfortunately all too often just a bunch of people shouting their opinions at each other – and is also what originally drew me to music. Having a vehicle to express every ounce of frustration, every drop of depression is invaluable to me, and I couldn’t imagine my life without some sense of musicality.
So, naturally, I sing every chance I get – particularly on my way to class.
The Amy DuPont Music Building
As I was coming home from class last week, caught up in a deeply impassioned (and maybe slightly off-key) rendition of Bonnie Tyler’s “Total Eclipse of the Heart,” I ran into another student muttering the falsetto of “Bohemian Rhapsody” under his breath. We acknowledged each other with a curt nod, and something about the encounter felt strange to me. It wasn’t until I reached my apartment that I realized what kept bugging me. Aside from the music building and the Center for the Arts, I’ve never seen someone else singing on campus.
Intrigued by this recent revelation, I approached the topic with a girl from my freshman-year floor (a notorious hair brush singer). I knew it wasn’t due to a lack of love of music; the multitude of people walking around with headphones is enough to convince me of that. When I asked her why she didn’t walk around belting like she used to in the hallway of Russell D, she replied with, “Because I can’t sing.”
And my heart broke a little bit.
We are consistently surrounded by people telling us we’re not good enough. Whether it be failing to score that internship you really wanted, not doing as well on that exam as you hoped, or facing unrealistic expectations of beauty and body image in the media, so many of us feel the compulsion to work harder, try more, or be the best. Many times, this is an asset; without such motivation, we’d never push ourselves enough to improve. This should never be the case with music, however. Melodies exist for everyone’s enjoyment, a catharsis intertwined with the most basic essence of man. Questionable tone quality or a slight tendency to stray from the correct pitch shouldn’t deter anyone from discovering the magic of belting the perfect song to fit the moment. Music was created out of love, out of sorrow, and out of desperation, and as college students soon approaching the beginning of finals and the end of the semester, we’re bound to experience all of these.
So I have a message for you, Delaware:
Everyone has a song to sing, and everyone has a voice to be heard. Whether you’re the next Andrea Bocelli or you’d put William Hung to shame, stand up, take a deep breath, and let it all out. We each have a story to tell, and I want to hear yours.
