busybee fluffy rambles

I hate my voice.

I’ll be buying something at a store, and the cashier calls me “ma’am” — and then as soon as I say something in response, there comes the litany of, “Oh, I’m so sorry, sir! I mean sir!”

“No, y- you had it right the first time.”

Or on the phone they’ll be all, “Yes, sir, thank you sir, by the way, sir, we have you down as female, sir… you should look into getting that fixed.”

I hate my voice.

Popular music is categorized as “male vocals” or “female vocals.” Choral music has the “men’s sections” and the “women’s sections.” There are special, gender-implied terms for people who sing in the “opposite” section. Contralto. Countertenor. … Castrato.

I have a fairly wide vocal range, and gravitate toward alto parts. But in an ensemble, I stick out like a squeaky sore thumb, and I always go back into my masculine little tenor box, never having the room to grow and experiment, to find what’s comfortable.

I hate my voice.

But then, I joined STANCE. A choir literally made for people like me, people who never really fit into the expectations they were assigned at birth, who are now able to shine, and experiment, and learn, and grow. Where trans voices come together to sing for the joy of it, together as one. Where folks of all genders and lack thereof make their home in every section. Here, a tenor can also be femme.

We have this amazing space where we can all come together and share our joys and sorrows, our wins and rants, and support each other. We navigate our identities and our transitions, help each other to find the words for our shared pain, and to find comfort and solace, a path forward in the face of frustration and barriers. We have a space where we can experiment and improvise and grow, and where we can all simply be.

STANCE has helped me to not feel so alone in this world, and has given me so many opportunities where I can grow and change and thrive. I learn to do better while also having the support of this wonderful queer community, this collection of misfits and weirdos, all coming together in our shared joy.

My voice belongs here.

I still hate my voice. But at least here, it isn’t so bad, when we all sing together.