The Girl in the Choir: Why I’ll Always Remember the Music

A love letter to music, girlhood, and soft courage.

I’ve been singing in choirs since I was a little girl.

Not for trophies.
Not for solos.
But because something sacred happens when voices come together—especially in a room full of girls learning how to be brave.

I can still see myself in those early church days—no taller than the pew, hair pressed and shiny, my little dress swaying as I clapped along. I didn’t always know the words, but I felt the songs. My voice might’ve been small, but it was mine. Singing felt like freedom. Like joy. Like home.

Back then, Sunday mornings were a ritual. We weren’t just singing hymns—we were building confidence. Learning rhythm. Practicing presence. Those rehearsals taught me so much more than notes. They taught me how to show up.

As I grew, choir became a constant.
From grade school to high school—nearly eight years of it.
Eight years of warmups and water bottles. Matching t-shirts. Last-minute lip gloss.
Eight years of learning what it means to blend, to listen, to shine without overpowering.

And most of all… to belong.