Student Blog: A Dancer Dances

“God, I’m a dancer. A dancer dances!”

This line from A Chorus Line has always deeply resonated with me. I’ve never considered myself to be a singer. In nearly every show I have performed in since middle school I have known my place: I’m the dancer.

Dance used to be something that terrified me. I did ballet and hip hop when I was younger, strayed away from the studio for a few years, and returned during my first year of middle school. I started with jazz and eventually expanded my styles into contemporary and tap as I got older. 

Dance became an escape for me. I was a Dance Captain in my theater program all four years of high school, and I loved every minute of it. I would spend hours reviewing the choreography so that I could assist anyone who needed it. Truly the joy that dancing in a production brings me is incomparable to anything else in my life.

Singing and I have a complicated relationship.

Along with dance, I started taking voice lessons during my first year of middle school. I went to a local studio to a voice teacher who had been highly recommended. My 12-year-old self walked into the studio with such excitement and confidence. I loved singing show tunes, and I couldn’t wait to work on my skills. The lessons were only 30 minutes, but as the weeks progressed I noticed that we were doing less and less singing. Instead, the teacher would turn off the lights and have me lay on the floor. I’m still not entirely sure what the purpose of this practice was. After a few lessons they began diagnosing me. One week they recommended a speech therapist, the next they asked me if I have scoliosis, and when I responded that I have a very small percentage, they exclaimed “that must be it!”

I struggled with the “it.” Was the “it” my inability to sing? Did I have something wrong with my vocal health? I tried to block out these diagnoses, but every time I opened my mouth to sing they loomed in the back of my mind.

My mom eventually pulled me out of this studio. At the time, I wasn’t entirely sure why, but as I got older she revealed to me that one night when she was sitting in the lobby waiting for my lesson to finish, one of the other workers at the studio had told her that people with anxiety should never sing. Having struggled with anxiety from a very young age, this comment was hard to hear. Throughout my younger years I worked hard on my mental health so that I could get on stage and do what I love. Yet, here were these people, whom I considered to be industry professionals, telling me to quit my passion because it was a pointless feat. I attribute a lot of my insecurity with singing to this experience. 

I tried two more voice teachers after the first one. They were both kind, but I started to believe that at times they were just telling me I sounded good to mute my doubts. Granted, I probably needed this validation at the time. I continued to work hard at dance, but the thought of singing in front of people still terrified me.

In my junior year of high school I finally decided to meet with a voice teacher that one of my close friends had gone to since he was a child. The second half of my high school career may seem like an odd time to start with someone new, but there was a part of me that wanted to give singing one last push.

This voice teacher, who just so happens to be Jodi Stevens Bryce from Jekyll and Hyde and Urban Cowboy, completely changed my life. Not only did Jodi instill confidence in my voice that I never thought I would find, but she also became one of the greatest mentors that I could ever ask for. Jodi held her lessons in her house which became like a sanctuary for me. She reassured me that my voice was healthy and that the “it” was nonexistent. I looked forward to my weekly visits to SBEstudio where I could sing my heart out and unload all of my troubles and worries. Without fail, Jodi had advice for every situation that life presented me with from auditions to relationships and everything in between. She celebrated my wins and met me at my lows, and not once did she express any doubts in my passion for music. 

One of my favorite parts about Jodi is that she is not going to sugarcoat things if there is still work to be done. Having come from a dance teacher who constantly pushed me to be better, I absolutely adore Jodi’s tough but loving nature. Jodi even made the unthinkable happen: I got to play Minnie Fay in Hello, Dolly my senior year of high school where I had to sing a few solo lines! 

I don’t think I’ll ever get rid of the “dancer first” label, but Jodi helped me take the lessons I learned from dance and channel them into my singing. She encouraged me to use the core strength we built in dance to help with breath support, and she leaned into my love for character acting rather than trying to mold me into a specific style.

I still FaceTime Jodi if I have a college audition that I need help with, and without fail these lessons brighten my day. I feel so incredibly lucky to have found a voice teacher that not only supports me, but pushes me beyond my comfort zone and quiets the inner voice repeating “people with anxiety should never sing.”

Singing and I still have a complicated relationship– I don’t think that will ever fully go away– but my experience with voice lessons serves as a constant reminder to never listen to people who try to dissuade you from doing what you love. If you continue to pursue your passions, one day you’ll find your biggest cheerleader.