When I was little, I used to sing stories to myself. I would walk to the library, make up a story, and revise it over and over, all to some endless tune in my head. My mother loved that I would sing around the house, and she wanted me to sing more. It was her idea to find me a voice teacher when I was in eighth grade. She wanted me to know that my voice was worth taking seriously.
I was always singing, or shouting, it’s hard to tell.
My first voice teacher had an opera background, but she spent most of my lessons on vocal exercises and breathing exercises, teaching me how to breathe from my diaphragm, and stand up straight, and relax my shoulders. I’d never much liked practicing scales on the piano, but vocal exercises made more sense to me. She taught me to sing through the mask of my face, like a raccoon, and to change the shape of my mouth to make the consonants clear and the vowels more open.
My father insisted that we sing songs together after Friday night dinner, as a family. But, he didn’t believe in normal limitations, like that a baritone might struggle to hit a glass-shattering high note. He refused to choose a key that everyone, including him, would be comfortable with, and he didn’t care about the quality of the note when he was done with it. He could rip it and strangle it, and drown the note in coughing, but if he hit that note, even for a second, he’d won.
And he did not like competition. He didn’t want me to practice singing between voice lessons. He would complain that I was “caterwauling,” even if I practiced in my room with the door closed. He’d complain about the money Mom was spending on my lessons. And eventually, he made it clear that he believed in the ban on kol isha – the voice of a woman – that we’d learned at school. I could sing at home, but it would be unacceptable to allow my voice to be heard by men outside of the family. He believed that singing, for a woman, is a salacious, sexually provocative act, and if I do it, I am a whore.
Unfortunately, around the same time as I was getting used to my voice lessons, we had a guest speaker at my orthodox Jewish school. Only the girls were invited to the gym to listen to her. She performed for us first, doing her own version of beat boxing, using her mouth like a drum and her hands as tambourines. The things she could do, the sounds she could create with no musical instruments to back her up, were incredible. There was something like bird song about her voice, as if she was born with these songs in her body and she just had to release them. She wasn’t just hitting notes, she was putting spin on them, like a tennis player, top spin and back spin, hollow sounds and full sounds, cold and warm, shivery and strident, all from one voice. I wanted her to be my teacher.
After her performance, she told us that she’d been a voice student at a prestigious conservatory, training for a professional music career, when she started to visit Chabad (a Chasidic Jewish outreach group) on the weekends. She gradually became more and more religious, until it became clear that as a religious Jewish woman she could never sing in front of men. She’d pieced together a career as a speaker, and sold her music to strictly female audiences. Her message was clear: being religious comes first, before anything else you might want, or love, or need in life.
Her visit haunted me. I didn’t stop singing altogether, but I felt her hand tightening around my throat.
My black lab mix, Dina, came along when I was sixteen years old, and she was a singer too. You had to hit a certain note, something in the howl-range, and that would set her off. Her pitch was pretty good and she could sing a nice clear note or series of notes, but she didn’t seem to enjoy it. She seemed like a button had been pressed in her brain and she had to sing, and had no control over it, and no choice. She seemed relieved when the singing stopped, as if it had taken so much out of her and now she could rest in silence.
Dina as a puppy.
I took a few years off from trying to sing, until my last semester of college, when I had two credits to kill. I’d been feeling like a robot, detached from myself and my voice, and I hoped voice lessons would help unlock something. I didn’t have to perform in public; my lessons would be in a safe, partially soundproof room. I still couldn’t practice at home, though, so I’d sing in the car on the way to and from school.
This was my first male voice teacher, and he was closer to my age, and friendly, and an opera singer. Whenever he actually sang something I sort of cringed, though. I’m not an opera fan. The vocal quality they strive for is bombastic and brassy and kind of hurts my ears, but he was very nice. He had me singing from an opera workbook, in Italian. There was something freeing about singing in a language I didn’t understand.
I sang to Dina at home, but not too loud, and never in full voice, and gradually, the hand around my throat grew tighter and tighter, telling me to stop singing, and I did.
Dina was a very good listener.
When I think back to that girl singer, though, telling us that she had to give up her dreams in order to be a good girl, I wonder if I ignored something important. With her words, yes, she told us to hide ourselves from the world, but her body carried a different message. Her voice seemed to be saying that, if you have a bird trapped in your chest, flapping its wings and trying to sing its song, you have to let it sing, or it will die.
rachelmankowitz 
Keep singing!!!!!
I will try! Thank you!
I had a border collie that sang, too.
Rachel, something about this is so very sad to me. You are so talented and have so many good ideas and people want to hold you back. I don’t get it. Oh, I would love to see a photo of your little girls when you sing. I just picture Cricket, very loudly, ‘joining in.’ Butterfly, of course, would be smiling.
Cricket likes to give me her suspicious look, from her spot under the couch. The other day, I tried to whistle a bird song I’d heard outside, and Butterfly started to bark at me like I was a huge human sized bird invading her house!
That photo is so joyous (and I love the outfit you surely picked out all by your young self!), and the story as it continues so constricting; this is a lovely, sad, and poignant post, Rachel. Do I remember you saying you’re singing at your temple now–or wait, was there a jarring-type choir director…???
In so many ways, as women, we live a metaphor of finding our authentic voices…
I loved that skirt so much! I think the shirt was a hand-me-down from my brother, who was my idol, so that was special too. I haven’t gone back to the choir at my synagogue, but I do sing along with everything I can, and I love it!
Male and female voices should be allowed to sing. You shouldn’t feel like a strumpet for wanting to sing. That isn’t the biggest crime in this field, how about the choir boys who had a forced operation so that their voices wouldn’t change.
Oh lord! Some heinous things have been done in the name of religion.
boy, you’ve got that right!
Wow! This one made me cry. I felt myself crying for your caged bird……And then my own.
Oh no! Though crying is a way of singing, and can bring it’s own relief.
Please sing, maybe Butterfly and Cricket can sing with you. Jack loves to sing, Lulu hasn’t learned yet. I used to sing in choir when I was in elementary school for a few years in Catholic school. We were taught that singing was praying twice. I remember the joy it gave me to sing in church as a young girl, our voices intertwined, it was very beautiful. I hope that you sing for yourself and maybe with the girls and your mom. 🙂
I love that idea: that singing is praying twice. Because that IS how it feels.
I knew that you would understand 🙂
Karaoke night for the Orthodox has to be something of a drag.
Well, with enough alcohol, it might, actually, lead to drag.
I always feel sad whenever someone’s self expression is stifled in whatever form. At least sing to your dogs. They are a non judgmental audience.
Oh Cricket is a VERY judgmental audience. Butterfly’s cool though.
For many years I fault the traditions our religion demands. After caring for my son for many years I found comfort in spirituality. I believe our religion focuses more on tradition than the true meaning of who we are spirituality. One should never be denied their rights. I am proud of my heritage and will never deny my Judiasm but do have fault in denying my rights as a human being and spiritual person. I am sorry you were denied your love of your voice.
I always think it’s not about the religion, it’s about the people who use the religion for their own purposes. Which means that we can change the way we live our religions, and hold each individual responsible for what they do to the relgious ideals they say they live by.
I think about King David dancing and his wife scolding him for doing it in public. But I wonder if there isn’t a small bit of truth about singing in front of the opposite sex. I find that almost whatever you do in mixed company sexuality hangs in the air–even if unspoken. And there is something very attractive about a person who is joyously living out their dreams.
So then, men shouldn’t be allowed to sing or dance in front of women, by that logic. And yet, there is no prohibition against that. In fact, we were allowed to dance in front of the boys at my school, just as long as we didn’t dance WITH them. Very confusing.
Oh, I agree that there’s a double standard. I think your father and other men in the past have felt it their (sometimes suffocating) duty to protect women from the leering eyes (or worse) of other men.
These men may have realized as science has proven that men are VERY visual creatures and maybe seeing a girl sing beautifully brings up certain desires . . . the sirens come to mind (of course I’ve mixed it up by bringing in aural, too).
My father prevented my brother from playing football because he’d get hurt, but then my brother played a pick-up game of touch football and ended up in a body cast for 6 months 🙂
Parents with good intentions go overboard. I wish you were allowed to feel good about singing. I guess it just reminded me of the many times when working with men it was impossible to really be friends. Inevitably crushes or advances happened. I don’t think men are scum or women shouldn’t work outside the house, but biology does strange things to otherwise normal people.
Like the other commenters I say you and your cute puppies should sing–its a gift even if some of us are no good at it.
You did make me laugh–the way your father forced you all to sing on Friday nights!
Thank you!
Growing up, my voice was suppressed, but not because of religion. I was simply never allowed to make any noise. As an adult, it makes me feel as if I am not allowed to stand up for myself. That by defending myself or my point of view, I am again “making noise”.
It’s so hard to overcome early lessons like that. It’s almost like your body won’t let you do things differently. Maybe that’s exactly what it is. So, how do we teach our bodies a new way to be?
Beautiful post Rachel. I am a singer and this post moved me. It is when I sing I almost connected to…everything. God, the universe, myself. I can’t imagine letting it go.
Thank you! I hope I can get to where you are some day.
Beautifully written, Rachel!
Thank you!
Fabio has said the first bit for me. But the subject is very sad. I hope you can break out
Thank you!
If you have a voice, use it – enjoy! Pip
Such a shame you stopped singing. I remember watching the choirs on TV and making note of the ones who’d had either elocution lessons or voice tutoring…… they always seemed to be emphasising the vowels as they sang.
My piano teacher told my Dad I had a natural gift for music, but if it was forced, I’d grow to hate it, so the lessons stopped and I continued to play by ear.
We all have our special gifts, it is indeed a shame not to feel able to share them.
I agree!
How sad that you have stopped singing. It is a blessing to have been given such a beautiful voice – so beautiful that you were good enough to have it trained.
Thank you!
You’re a beautiful writer. Maybe writing is your version of singing now? I hope you find your way back to it. You’re right about the bird. This is why a seagull is my avatar. Art frees me. I can’t imagine stuffing art in a bag now and not letting it come out. I hope you’re led to do whatever will most free your spirit. Peace. 💜
I will keep trying. Thank you!
Make a joyful noise woof woof
I see this as your own version of I Wonder why the Caged Bird Sings…and I like it.
This post made me sad. You should keep singing! Even if you only do it for yourself! It must be part of who you are, or it wouldn’t haunt you so.
I think you’re right.
I can well imagine that so many of your readers are going to relate. So many of us had our dreams “redirected” for some reason or other. 😦
I wish that weren’t true, but I think you’re right.
I think I am right also! I have known a number of high achievers in various fields and what they have all had is strong parental support.
It’s amazing how much good parents can do.
Start singing again!
The things we do in order to fit in and be approved never cease to amaze me. It is sad that most parents do not understand their role as a parent, so they misuse their position to mold someone into who they think is acceptable and “right.” Isn’t it wonderful that as adults we have our own voice and we can make our own choices. I hope you sing and shout from the housetops so your voice will be heard. Great post, Rachel.
This is a really interesting topic but, while I agree with the above (brendamarroy) Post, I think it should perhaps be expanded. I cannot recall spending too much time “fitting in” as I was very independent and enjoyed time with myself doing what I wanted to do. I never succumbed to peer pressure so peer approval was not an issue. The control over me was parental and impacted areas where I needed their support (career choice). Their role (as they saw it) in parenting was to ensure that I was well “grounded” and had a career path which would give me a better life than they had. I would now challenge that and say that their role should have been to encourage me in all my endeavors and simply support me in whatever direction that took me. My “blocked interests” were violin, music in general, and cycling long distances. My “blocked career” was working for British Railways (mid 1960’s – I loved/love trains). I was told quite succinctly that “One does not go to The King’s School Peterborough to become an engine driver!” It was not open for discussion.
But that’s terrible! What’s the point of a good education if it stops you from becoming your best self?!
Hi Rachel: What is “best self” but a subjective term. My parents presumably believed that their choice was for my best interests. Would I have had a better life I had made the choices? Of course I do not know what might have been ….. but it would have been nice to have had the experience. 🙂
Yes.
Thank you so much!
Rachel, I find such restrictions on being able to sing so constraining and love how you expressed that: “Her voice seemed to be saying that, if you have a bird trapped in your chest, flapping its wings and trying to sing its song, you have to let it sing, or it will die.”
Here in Australia is really is quite culturally unacceptable for boys to sing and this attitude no doubt worsens in high school. Same goes for dancing as well. Our son sings all the time at home and it upsets me to think of that being constrained and hidden away like a dirty secret when his voice should fly free…like a bird. I have fought for women’s rights over the years on and off and now as a mother of a son, I realise the blinkers put on his horizons. xx Rowena
Wow! I never thought of singing as something boys couldn’t do in public. Dance, I know all about though, and when you see what some male dancers can do, it’s a crime to keep them from reaching their true potential.
Singing is such a wonderful outlet- don’t be stifled- sing on! I love the photos. Have you heard of the Girl band Bulletproof Stockings? They’re an Orthodox band
http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2014/08/22/bulletproof-stockings-hasidic-band-jewish_n_5688958.html
I had an orthodox friend who was taking drum lessons in high school. I don’t know if she’s still practicing, but she loved it!
Not sure if my reply went on-line, but I just wanted to say that this is another wonderful piece, thoughtful, moving and accompanied by fine photographs. Thanks.
Ned
Thank you so much!
I started out as a tenor, with friends telling me to “sing like a girl.” When I started voice lessons, my teacher told me I was a dramatic soprano, that any woman who could sing that low would also sing that high. Given that our voices are very much our identities, I find a religion that wants to cut off women’s voices is simply trying to control us. And really all the big religions do that to some extent.
Unfortunately, with men taking charge of religious rules for so many years, a lot of those rules conveniently moved to control women. Women are so scary and dangerous! Hopefully this is changing, not just in the United States, but everywhere.
Being religious is not the same as responding to God.
Very interesting thought. Thank you!
😦 ❤ There is always today!!
What a sad, sensitively written post. I can’t imagine your father wanting to discourage a gift that comes from the Creator! As one early commenter said, “Keep singing!” Music comes from the soul. I think you must have a very lovely soul.
You are very sweet, thank you!
A very poignant post. I am an outsider to Orthodox Judaism, so what can I say? Only that when I read the Old Testament (and I read in it every day), I find nothing there that says a girl can’t sing.
If you’re curious about the odd sounds that can be created by the human voice, look into Mongolian throat-singing. There’s a video somewhere in my archives.
Mongolian throat singing! That sounds awesome! Thank you!
I love to sing, I am terrible but it doesn’t stop me and it makes me happy. I hope you can find a way to sing, if only for yourself?
SING!!! Can you go some place isolated, where there are few passers by and let rip? Your voice is a vital part of yourself, I hope you find a way to release it and enjoy it again aloud and proud!! xx
I’m thinking of going to the duck pond and singing to the new goslings. They already look at me funny.
do it 🙂 xxx
I admit I don’t get it, this prejudice certain races and religions seem to bear towards women. The more I try to find out about the history of such prejudice the less of substance I seem to discover. The deluded posturings of a few sad old men are all that ever offer themselves as explanation. Everyone should be able to sing, whether badly or ably. I am sorry you could not.
Honey, BTW, has only ever expressed herself in song once. It was at the conclusion of a Bee Gees track on my CD player. I noticed a continuous low moan as the final notes of the song died and realized it was Honey giving tongue.
I wonder what it was in the Bee Gees in particular that inspired her. Butterfly sometimes give a low, mournful sound, when she’s really upset about the food she isn’t eating.
I echo the thoughts on keeping at singing! I have a voice that is poor at best, but it still gives me great joy to belt out a tune in the car or (less loudly) at church. It just makes people happy to sing – as I am sure it would make all of us here happy to hear that you were singing!
Thank you!
That is so beautiful and poignant. If you CAN sing, I say sing. If it brings you joy. Isn’t there scripture somewhere that says make a joyful noise unto the Lord? (sorry if I’m imposing Christian belief on you..not my intention)… my thought though is that God gave you a gift (in my opinion); one which many of us (me for example) wish we had. I love to sing, and I suspect my voice is one that would have made Dina howl loudly in protest of the quality of it. I’ve never learned to read music and now I sing with our church choir, but I never sing very loudly for fear that it’s too awful to be heard. If singing gives you joy, do it. You’re grown now and hopefully have gained your own insights into what is ‘proper’ for women, regardless of what the men might say about it. I’ve often thought that only God knows what He expects of us, the rest of it is only interpretation by a flawed human being, as much as the human might have good intentions. We need more beauty in the world though, that’s a given and if your voice is beautiful – let it go! Share.
Thank you!
Singing is a gift from God…keep singing! 🙂
Thank you!
I cried at the end of this post…for the death of a voice…for the loss of what might have been such a joyous part of your life…for the unnecessary, meaningless and useless restrictions that are forced on people every day to satisfy political, religious and socially correct requirements. Restrictions for things that cause no harm to one’s self or others. Restrictions that make a person wonder where they came from in the first place.
I am so sad for your loss, and the loss of those who may have been inspired by your voice.
Thank you so much!
This really spoke to me. Not about the singing, but about the giving up of who we are. I miss who I was 20 and 30 years ago. I’ve spent a fair amount of time lately thinking about it, but at am a point where I don’t care anymore either. I’m not sure if that’s right or wrong – I don’t know that it matters that much – but I miss her sometimes.
Nancy
That’s one of the things I like most about writing – you can visit your old self, without having to be her anymore.
Rachel,
You have such a gift with words! Thank you for sharing as you do.
Jewish law and interpretation of Jewish law can feel constricting. I am sorry that living in “that derekh” or way was rough for your spirit.
As a progressive or a Reconstructionist Jew (if I remember correctly), you have options. Whatever you do, keep singing and if you ever have a chance to chant with Rabbi Shefa Gold, leap!
l’Shalom,
Chava
Thank you! I’m heading to Google right now.
great photo of the little girl singing.
That’s me! Thank you!
Reblogged this on karrymi.
Thank you!
Welcome 🙂
Wow. This one was really powerful.
Thank you so much!
Great post, Rachel: one of your best!
Thank you so much!
Is that not odd – As children we were encouraged to sing and perform. We had concerts which we organized ourselves – no adults – and everyone had great fun. Everyone, male and female, had a part to play. Each child – and each adult for that matter- had what was called a “Party Piece” which was a song or a poem they would trot out at a gathering – and with no television to distract, we had a lot of these.
And for us, Friday was a good night – no work on a Saturday so the adults were relaxed and sang, got together and people were happy. And yes, there was perhaps a drop or three of alcohol with the adults. Growing up in Central Scotland was fun. In the area everyone knew everyone else and they all looked out for each other. I would accept a telling off by a neighbour for something I had done wrong as I would from my dad.
Okay then, I’m moving to Scotland (though a whole country named after my brother might just kill me).
Rachel, you alway post such caring and thoughtful posts. Thanks for sharing – and I love the photos.
Thank you so much!
Please keep singing…and the bird will fly out!
That’s beautiful! Thank you!
It’s so important to hold on to your dreams. Some kids never get a chance to even develop their dreams. You need to have dreams first, before you can hold on to them.
Yes!
Love the photo of you singing as a little girl! And Dina looks like such a lovely companion! 🙂
Thank you!