How a Bass-Baritone Voice Gave Me Courage

by Shoshanah Alessi

“I sang as loud and as high as I could. My hands trembled and power surged through my body. I felt connected to myself and the song. It was a part of me.”

My grandfather, David Coreal, was an incredibly creative and confident man. Although I never met him, I think I inherited a very similar personality. He was a very innovative and engaged fellow. One story about him that has always struck me was when he ran out of room for his sweaters, he hung them on the wall like art pieces. I found this to be quite funny, but at the same time, I've noticed that I subconsciously exhibit the same instinct. Over the years, I have always been inclined to hang up any item that I found pretty, regardless of its conventional use. I love unfolding pretty packaging and hanging it up like art, and I use the canvases of paintings in my room to display my CDs.

Additionally, he loved the arts. He was an artist and singer. He would make my mom toys to play with, and art to display on the walls of the house. According to my mom, he had an extremely striking bass baritone singing voice, and when he wasn't in his cab, he moonlighted as an opera singer. I too am very artistically inclined. I have found drawing to be one of the most major sources of my expression, and I also do theater. This year I was cast in a role where I had to sing intense riffs and belt high notes.

Although I find a lot of joy in being on stage, I am inherently very shy, and I never thought my voice to be capable of singing complex songs. I was freaking out over how I could ever sing so powerfully or captivate an audience in the way that my director instructed me to do. I felt like I was gonna fail everyone, and I could never own the stage with the amount of power and confidence being asked of me.

I practiced my song over and over again, but it never seemed to sound right. Was it the pacing? The notes? I couldn't tell. I felt like a failure. My friends kept encouraging me, and over time I came to realize that the problem was my courage. I had no faith in myself, and I was filled with so much shame.

Upon realizing this, I decided to go all in. I sang as loud and as high as I could. My hands trembled and power surged through my body. I felt connected to myself and the song. It was a part of me. In that moment, I never considered that I was channeling my grandpa, but in retrospect, I think that I called upon his confidence and creativity to find the part of myself that I was missing. I felt so proud of myself, and I think if he were alive, he would have been proud of me too.