My first singing lesson was in a church. Trinity Road Chapel, in Tooting, London, UK - to be exact. Unbeknownst to me, my singing teacher had been reluctant to accept me as a student.
His name was Justin, an oversized (both length and width-wise) jolly man who always had the sniffles. He was an incredible pianist - one of those talented artists who can glance at a sheet of music for the first time and immediately pick up the tune. His voice was deep, timbre and resonant, and he had very little patience.
He’d told my mother that he only accepted ‘exceptional’ students - those worth his time. She had simply smiled in response and let me enter the room. The first song I sang for him was ‘Colours of the Wind’, a ballad from Disney’s ‘Pocahontas’.
After that, I saw him every Tuesday.
After some time working with him (whether months or years, I can’t really remember) he came to me with an opportunity. Through a friend of a friend he had been invited to perform at the birthday party of someone rich and important. I didn’t recognise who they were, but the fact they were having their birthday party in a private room within the Royal Albert Hall in London, was a good indicator of their wealth and status.
We chose two songs for me to sing. The first was ‘Hallelujah’ by Jeff Buckely, and the second was ‘What A Wonderful World’ by Louis Armstrong. Perhaps if my singing teacher had been a woman, or at least some parts ethnic, the song choices would have better suited my vocals.
But I digress.
My mum bought me a beautiful new dress for the occasion. It was made of a shiny dark blue material that fit snugly against my chubby frame. I straightened my hair for the event (only now do I wonder if this had been an intentional ploy by my mother (or my subconscious self) to market me as less black - but I guess not everything has to be about race).
I met with Justin in the evening and he took me to get some food whilst my mum and dad entered via the guest entrance. We ate fruit and he told me never to eat dairy or chocolate before a performance. They’re not great for clearing the vocal chords, so he said.
I wonder what he’d say now if he saw me leading singing circles straight after serving Cacao?
I sat hunched and small in what constituded as the green room. Different artists passed through, including a woman with an incredible jazzy singing voice, and an American woman who Justin was clearly in love with. She was smaller than me and thin as a pin, wearing her blonde hair in lioness curls and smoothing away the creases of her aging face with layers of makeup. She spoke with an annoying, high pitched american accent, but was a beautiful singer nonetheless. She bossed Justin around like a schoolboy.
The memory of how I felt before the show remains lost to me I’m afraid. I can’t seem to tap into that version of me just yet. All I know is that she quietly showed up, and observed the circus playing itself out around her, with all the curiosity of a wet blanket.
Perhaps I was already frozen in fear, or maybe the enormity of what I was doing had simply gone over my head. I had never truly aspired to be a singer, even though I knew I had a good enough voice, so I wasn’t there as someone trying to utilise the opportunity to ‘make it big’ or network with the right people.
I was there because Justin had invited me, it was as simple as that.
Why anyone let me walk up on stage in high heels is a mystery to me. I probably could have counted the amount of times I’d worn heels on one hand - these were pre-party days. I was still on the more youthful side of my teenage years.
I wobbled up there nonetheless, and stared out into the sea of a faceless crowd. Lights shone brightly in my eyes, I was sweating enough that my hair was already frizzing, the dress I was wearing was perhaps a size too small for me, and I had never done anything like this before in my life.
All things considered, I fucking smashed it.
Justin played along on the piano live as I sang. My voice swelled and softened, I used the hand gestures he’d taught me in to liven up my performing act.
At first no one paid me much mind - I was just a girl singing in the background as the small groups around circular tables continued on with their evening. They were all quiet by the end, I even saw some women gazing up at my wistfully, smiling.
The only thing was, I couldn’t keep my knees from knocking.
I stood there in my 6 inch high heels, not just as a young girl with a big voice, but as an actual performer - and I didn’t enjoy it one bit. The nerves shook me to my core the entire time, and I was sure everyone in the room could see my knees bouncing off of one another.
I’m surprised I made it through both songs without falling over.
However, there was no joy in my spirits when the performance was over. I didn’t feel any sense of accomplishment, no spikes of adrenaline or hits of dopamine. As people clapped and I bowed on stage with Justin, who’d come up from behind his piano, I was simply glad the whole thing was over. I couldn’t wait to get off the stage and find my parents, so they could take me home.
When I did find them, I asked if they’d managed to get any good footage of my performance. It was only natural of me to assume that my doting, loving parents, who’s child was literally singing at a private event in the
Royal
Albert
Fucking
Hall
would have taken one or two videos of my act. Or at least a photo of me on stage. But alas, they explained to me that night (and for many nights, over many years) - that they’d forgotten to bring the decent camera. Or any one of my dad’s very expensive, high quality cameras, for that matter. They’d also not thought to use their phones..
“Your dad was having a nervous breakdown at the time…inbetween jobs…early retirement…we were just so excited we forgot…we were intimidated…it was such a fancy event..”
I still wonder whether this was one of the factors that led to my next decision, but who can say for sure?
Why should a bird sing if no one is watching?
I don’t remember if it was days, weeks, or months later, but the next time I saw Justin he had another proposition for me. This time it was a small scale gig at a late night cafe, or something like that. I can’t really be sure, because I’d already made my mind up before he finished laying out the details.
“No thank you, I’m not singing any more.”
At first he and my mum had thought it was just a teenage mood, a phase I’d shake off once I came to my senses. They were perplexed, bamboozled, flummoxed - they huddled out of sight in a whispered conversation as I continued to watch TV in the kitchen, ignoring them both.
One thing I’ll say about my younger self is that she had an Iron Will that I, unfortunately (or unfortunatly, depending on how you view it) no longer possess. She could not, and would not, be budged once her mind had been made up or set against something.
It’s why I pursued the path of modern medicine for so long, despite not being very good at maths or science.
It’s why my crushes could last years, and my grudges even longer.
It’s why, no matter what Justin said or how shrill my mother’s voice got - neither of them could convince me to do the gig. I told them I was done with singing - and wanted no more lessons either, thankyouverymuch.
Justin left that day and I never saw him again.
My mum passed on a message from him once, a few days (or weeks) later. He mentioned that someone at the private gig had spoken highly of me, saying to him - ‘she doesn’t know what she has’.
And I didn’t, I kind of still don’t.
The reason I gave my mother, and myself, for quitting, was that the stage fright had been horrifc, and I never wanted to experience it again. Truthfully, the whole ordeal had been profoundly joyless, and my dopamine deficient brain hadn’t been satisfied at all. The amount of work I’d put in to rehersals hadn’t paid off, and I genuinely didn’t see the point in doing it anymore.
Was it stubbornness, intuition, or neurodivergence - I guess we’ll never know..
I think, also, deep down in my roots, a sadness had taken hold that my young heart didn’t know how to name. Disappointment that everyone else had been able to see her performance, but she never would, because no one had thought it worth recording.
All she had were her memories, and they were clouded in fear.
Perhaps if they had been able to show me my reflection, if I had seen my own light shining from outside of myself, maybe I could have been convinced to keep on singing. Maybe if I had heard ‘just what I had’, I would have felt it worth sharing.
However, in hindsight, I can see where the path Justin was pointing me down could have led. One gig would have led to another, and another, and somewhere along the way - whether it would have taken months or years - some industry shark would have smelt my blood, and bitten me.
Hard.
My voice was, and always has been, divine.
I think my younger self may have inadvertently saved us both from an industry known to swallow girls like me alive.
Fast Forward To The Present Day..
Today, on the 22nd March 2025, I sang in front of a crowd of protestors huddled together in the town centre of Oxford.
I was only there to support my little brother, Hamzah, as he performed two tracks off of his soon-to-be-realeased album. It was an anti-fascist rally targeting racism and deportation, where people held up signs displaying their displeasure towards the likes of Donald Trump & Nigel Farage. All whilst chanting ‘we hate nazi’s’ and ‘all refugees are welcome here’.
Honestly, they were a lovely bunch.
Halfway through the protest I felt a nudge to perform one of my favourite Kirtan songs - ‘Mother Earth & Father Sky’.
A voice within said ‘In the midst of all their rage, remind them of unity. In the face of all their hatred, remind them we are weak when divided - and the enemy knows it.’
So I asked the organiser to slot me in after the next speaker, and I sang the following:
When the rain falls down from a cloudy sky, That's the Father healing the Mother, & when the green things grow and the rivers flow, That's the Mother healing the Father, & the Father needs the Mother to be green green green, & the Mother needs the Father to be born, & a sister needs her brother like a baby needs it's Mother, & we all need each other to be whole, yes, we all need each other to be whole..
If you like you can watch me sing this song on my youtube channel here.
My knees still shook, as did my hands (and perhaps my voice), but when I sang I could hear myself in my voice.
I don’t really know how to explain what that means.
There was no buzz of accomplishment or hit of dopamine - I’ve come to learn there never is. Maybe my choices earlier in life would have been different if I’d known this, but somehow I doubt it.
Divine timing is a miraculous thing.
When people came up to congratulate me afterwards, I smiled and thanked them sincerely, but felt their words fall from my skin like water off a ducks back.
‘That’s not why I do this.’ I thought often as I accepted their praise, ‘but thank you anyway.’
Then why do I sing?
Why, when it causes my body to shake and my nerves to crumble?
Why, when there tends to be no payoff, no profit, and I don’t accept the compliments of others as my currency?
Why did I become a sound healer and learn medicine songs to sing around fires under starry skies?
Why do I sing, even when no one is around to witness me?
Because singing brings me Joy, and since I am Joy, then it stands to reason that singing is what brings me closer to myself. When I sing, I am the truest version of me - the most powerful, the most vulnerable, the most honest and transparent expression of my soul.
Why should a bird sing if no one is watching?
Because it is a bird, and that is what birds do.
This was such a beautiful read and my heart breaks that you never got to see your performance in Albert hall.
As the saying goes, no one gives you anxiety and stress quite like a parent.
So happy you decided to continue singing again and not let yourself be shoved into a box that didn't resonate with how and what you choose to sing.
Continue to use your voice to touch those of us who really appreciate it. You are amazing girl.
Omg another beautiful read, I love this, resonates with a lot of my own shutdowns, and missed events as a child.
But remembering why we do what we do best is alllll about them good vibes we feel from within by our own creation not others value🤓🙌💙