I’ve been singing my whole life. Before I could recite the alphabet, I’d sing along to Bruce Springsteen and Disney Princess soundtracks on a bedazzled CD player. In elementary and middle school, I began singing in group settings: choral ensembles, musicals, theater troupes, and shared voice lessons. I excelled in music and performance. I loved the stage and the stage loved me. Of course, I followed music into high school, where I was fortunate enough to sing in an incredible choral ensemble for four years.

It’s difficult to summarize just how important it was to be part of a community with such longevity, connectivity, and passion. We’d spend countless hours with each other every week, travel across the globe together, and most meaningfully, make music. The people I met through chorus are still some of my best friends. I was eager to continue pursuing music in university. I sang in two different ensembles over three semesters, and while it was still rewarding to sing alongside others, I found myself unsatisfied. I felt disconnected from the ensemble: most of them music or vocal majors, and all of which had near-professional experience and talent. I stopped singing completely a year ago.

This summer, I’m interning with Streetwise Opera. Naturally, I was incredibly excited at the possibility of singing again. Though my internship is directed towards PR and marketing — writing, photography, social media, the like — I was invited to attend and participate in Streetwise’s weekly workshop. Last week was my first workshop; I’ll set the stage.

The London sessions are hosted at a theater called The Old Vic, located near the London Eye. My supervisor Rey and I got there about twenty minutes before the workshop was slated to begin. When we arrived, the room was already buzzing with energy. We entered a medium-sized studio with floor-to-ceiling windows that let the afternoon sunlight dapple warm wood floors and bright orange chairs. The participants who were there early were chatting with each other. There was an ease and familiarity to their conversations — an excitement, too. Others trickled in as the minutes went by, hanging up their coats and bags before moving to seats for the beginning of the workshop. The seats filled up rather quickly.

Everyone was ready to sing

The workshop began with a name-game and a vocal warmup. Now, as much as I loved my high school chorus, there were certainly many days where spirits were low and energy was down. It would sometimes take great effort from my choral teacher to build us to the point of performance. At the Streetwise workshop, there was no need for any coaxing or prodding to encourage participants to engage. Immediately, everyone was ready to sing. Participants clapped and belted operatic solos, danced to the tune of the piano, and shared honest, unfiltered, musical joy. Watching others around me sing, speak, and perform with a natural sense of gravitas and confidence was exciting to see.

We also had the pleasure of welcoming a composer and librettist who are working with Streetwise to create a micro-opera. After singing a section of one of their compositions, they encouraged us to split into groups and envision what an ideal London would look like in twenty-five years; what would we want for ourselves and others? I worked alongside five other participants to list out our aspirations for London. One participant jotted down our group’s notes with a turquoise pen until the page was completely filled. Another would replace the full page for a blank one. Another held the paper up so everyone could see and reflect on what was written.

I found it significant that everyone’s aspirations were directed towards a collective good — free healthcare, better educational systems, and housing for all, to name a few. Then, we were instructed to come up with four musical lines using our list. I largely observed, watching my groupmates note rhyme schemes, thematic commonalities, and rhythmic patterns. In minutes, they had skillfully developed and performed a miniature song.

I was, and still am, in awe at the musicianship and camaraderie displayed during the London workshop. I missed singing, but I missed the connection that comes from making music with others more. Most lifelong performers, including myself, have found themselves in performance spaces that feel stuffy, or judgmental, or entirely out of one’s depth. Streetwise Opera is not such a place. It’s clear to me that Streetwise attracts the best kind of performers — those who are capable of creating and consuming the sense of community music creates.