I, like so many others, grew up believing that my voice wasn’t good enough. I carried this belief for most of my life, casting seeds of self-doubt and insecurity. It was through Community Singing that I found the medicine needed to reclaim my voice and vibrancy.

Singing was not something that I did growing up, with family or otherwise. In fact, I didn’t sing much at all until my late 20’s. I remember being told as a little girl that I couldn’t sing, by classmates at school. And so, I stopped singing for most of my life. I believed that singing was only for talented people, and that certainly I wasn’t good enough to do it.

Secretly though, I loved to sing. And like many people, I would reserve my singing moments for the shower or the car, or sometimes on road trips with friends. But I never dared to join a choir, as I was terrified of auditions and believed that choirs were only for “real” singers. Which wasn’t me, I told myself. For most of my life, I carried this story that I wasn’t a singer like a badge of unworthiness.

I remember the moment when this changed. I was visiting a friend in Portland, Oregon, and I walked into a room of 100 people singing in a circle. These people were making simple and beautiful sound together, in a way that anyone could join in and participate. I didn’t need to read music, read words, or know a single thing about music theory. All I had to do was listen and repeat back what was sung.

I remember how I felt that night, as I discovered community-singing for the very first time. It was a feeling of arriving home, a deep sense of belonging and connection with this group of people who I’d never met before. It was a feeling of permission, to be exactly who I am and nothing more or less. It was a feeling of acceptance, where all parts of me were welcome. And it was a feeling of joy, to find my voice again after all those years.

Over the course of that year, I kept finding myself in groups of people singing together in simple ways that anyone could do. Around campfires, at dinner parties, in the garden, even in the workplace. I remember the feeling of belonging that I had in those spaces, where all voices are welcome and everyone can sing. It didn’t matter how I sounded, it was about making something together that felt good, regardless of the quality. And you wouldn’t believe how good it sounded when we stopped caring about how good it sounded.

In these song circles, I found a sense of home within myself and the wider world in which I lived. I learned that people have been singing together since the beginning of time, and that singing is our birthright. I discovered that I can sing, and that everyone can. I found that all people have the ability to make beautiful and meaningful sound together, regardless of culture, language, religion, or musical background.

Today, I use song as a tool for building community, for restoring our sense of connection in the world. This ancient practice is truly a technology of belonging. As Laurence Cole says, “Group singing is one of the most ancient and primal ‘technologies of belonging’ that humans have been using since the earliest times, possibly before speech itself.” I see it’s profound impact on the lives of my community when we come together each week to sing.

As a Community Songleader, I find so much purpose and joy in creating inclusive, diverse, inter-generational gatherings of people singing together. In my hometown of Toronto, I lead two community choirs in the oral tradition, working closely with new refugees to create cross-cultural celebrations of song. It is my passion that this work is accessible and deeply nourishing for all.

So please, come as you are. Bring your stories about how you are not a singer. Bring your joy and your pain for the world around you. Bring your love or your fear of singing. It will all be welcomed.