Chronically Elle

May 2024

What am I doing here? Who do I think I am? Definitely not someone equipped for this, that’s for sure. Omg I might just collapse. I wish I could evaporate into the air on command- *piano chords fill the room*- okay okay just do it.

Suddenly I am back on the couch, my head supported by a pillow absorbing my tears full of overwhelming validation, each one that falls representing a year of my life spent hiding, finally released from the cage of my mind. The memory sets me free.  

April 2022, Sophomore year:

Mom and I are in the living room. Remote in hand, mom flips through streaming services as we try to find a movie to occupy our evening in the middle of spring break. 

“Hey, I’ve wanted to see this one since it came out,” I start to suggest a movie based off of a broadway musical I have never attended but always been curious about. For a while now, I have been a big fan of the song “Waving Through A Window,” performed by Broadway icon Ben Platt, which is from this very musical and made me intrigued by the production in the first place. 

“‘Dear Evan Hansen? Looks good. Let’s watch it,” mom replies. 

We click on the movie and I absolutely adore the whole thing. Emotional rollercoaster. Beautiful and uncomfortable and fascinating and real. But I am left so moved by one song in particular. One moment in the film that changed the trajectory of my  life if I am being honest. The scene when actress Amandla Stenberg enchantingly sings the anthem that will permanently tattoo my heart: “The Anonymous Ones.”

The next two years:

Home alone? I’m singing it. 

In the car? Belting it at the top of my lungs. 

In my room at night listening to music blasting through my ear buds even though I already said “goodnight” to my family hours ago? I close my eyes and lip sync along as I imagine myself performing the lyrics in front of an audience because all I have ever wanted to do is perform, and if I ever, somehow, maybe in another life got the chance to sing for a crowd, without a question it would be this song. But it wasn’t a matter of not having a chance. It was a matter of believing I could do it. 

I am forever grateful for my high school experience. The environment cultivated at Buffalo Seminary is one that encourages students to search within themselves for how they want to make an impact on the world and what they want to pursue in this life we are given. For me, one of the top things on my list was music. Sure, I played violin from the time I was six years old, and I always loved it and was pretty good too! But my deepest darkest most forbidden secret from EVERYONE except my Voice Memos app is that I wanted to sing.

My school had a Glee Club. Freshman year I joined it and stayed with the group all four years. It was fun and gave me an opportunity to sing in school. Great! But with Glee Club, it was easy to blend in. Most of the time I would sing along, but whenever I felt insecure about my voice or if the note felt out of my range, I could just mouth my way through and no one would notice. It was a safe place. I was able to sing without the pressure of all ears on me (ha, get it?). 

One afternoon my friends were messing around with the piano located in the chapel at the center of the school, open for students to play whenever their hearts desired (good times). They asked me to join them. “Um, of course!” And I excitedly sat on the bench beside them. We ended up singing through some songs we all liked and my friend who was playing the keys paused and said, “Elle, we sound really good together. Let’s perform this at Morning Meeting!” My heart rate surged. I could hear my pulse reverberating through my body. Spoiler alert, I ended up agreeing as long as we sang the whole song in unison (the song was “ceilings by Lizzy McAlpine but that’s beside the point). She had a phenomenal voice and no way was about to sing solo in front of the entire school. 

We were a hit and ended up performing three songs together throughout our junior and senior years. So now I had a couple performances under my belt. But they were duets. Not solos. I could never do that (*sigh* if only I knew…). 

Senior year I crossed my fingers and prayed I would be able to take the one senior elective I had desperately wanted to take since freshman year: Voice Class. By some miracle, my schedule allowed me to take the course! 

Voice Class would consist of quite literally one-on-one vocal lessons with our school music teacher who had a passion for teaching students to use their voices (literally and metaphorically). She asked me to pick out a couple songs that I would want to work on. Of course, I immediately wrote down “The Anonymous Ones” from the “Dear Evan Hansen” film. During one of my first lessons she had me sing it cold. “Just go for it!” she instructed. So I did. After I finished my first run through she asked me why I chose that song in particular: “Because it really changed my life,” I explained. “I cried the first time I heard it because I related to it which meant a lot to me. I just love it.” 

Then she said the craziest sentence I ever could have fathomed: “Would you want to perform it at our upcoming spring concert?” 

Do I want to? This is my DREAM. Can I? Um…

Sure, I had performed a couple times with my friend and I survived. But alone? That felt out of the question. 

Before I could put too much thought into my answer I opened my mouth and started speaking whatever words came out. “Uh yes. Wow. I don’t know. Um. Do you think I’m good enough?”

 “Elle, you have a beautiful voice, use it.” 

May 2024: 

What am I doing here? Who do I think I am? Definitely not someone equipped for this, that’s for sure. Omg I might just collapse. I wish I could evaporate into the air on command- *piano chords fill the room*- okay okay just do it. 

And I start to sing:

“Ever look at all the people who seem to know exactly how to be?”

My hands are drenched in my own sweat. The breeze from the open window is blowing my hair into my face (which actually turned out to be a cool effect!). The microphone stand is a little too short and the piano a little too fast. I can’t look up at the balcony where my family sits or I’ll get distracted. I keep my eyes straight ahead and as the song moves forward I allow myself to loosen up. Remember why you chose this song. And more importantly, remember the reason this song meant so much to you when you first heard it… 

Though I am still nervous, I am no  longer trembling in fear. In fact, I am actually relieved not to have a Glee Club of students to hide my voice behind. Everyone is watching. Everyone is listening. But I can use this moment to make my own impact, I decide. Now, I don’t just sing the words, but I sing every moment of my life that has manifested into the very one I am in now: 

“You think, they don’t need piles of prescriptions to function naturally…”

“So they keep on keeping secrets that they think they have to hide…”

“She’s built a wall with her achievements 

To keep out the question 

‘Without it, is she worth anything at all?’”

“There are those anonymous ones

Stuck inside the perfect frame they’re faking

All of us anonymous ones

Who pick themselves apart ’til they start breaking…”

“The parts we can’t tell, we carry them well,

But that doesn’t mean they’re not heavy…”

“Maybe we, we don’t have to be

Anonymous, anymore.”

Lyric after lyric I find more power in my voice. I am not just singing for myself. I am singing for the anonymous ones out there who need to hear this message. And I personally was breaking free of the feeling of anonymity that encaged me my whole life.

Vocally, I have no idea what I sound like. If the performance is the worst I have ever sang, but one person in the audience felt a little less alone in whatever anonymous battle they are fighting, consider it a Grammy winning act. Applause erupts in the room as I imperfectly but confidently conclude the song. Wow my face is HOT and I am certainly still sweating. I take a little bow and trot back to my seat. Did I really just do that or am I in my room pretending again?

 Nope, that was real. Dang. 

Falling asleep that night, like counting sheep, my mind just repeats: I did it. I did it. I did it. I did it…

The present: 

I didn’t watch the recording mom took for months after the performance. I was so insecure and did not want to hear myself assault the eardrums of a couple hundred people. I may have completed the performance (somehow), but that didn’t mean I felt like it was good. Classmates, teachers, friends, and family all told me it was great but they were probably just being nice, right? 

The truth is, I still don’t know if it was “good.” But I have watched the performance, many times by now.  I mean, it’s alright. But did I hit every note exactly how I wanted? No. Was I off tempo at some points? Yeah. But I did it. And the one thing I can say with total confidence is that I am so unbelievably proud of myself. The thing I used to literally dream about, with a song that meant the absolute world to me– I did it. If I have any regrets at all, it’s that I didn’t start performing sooner. Because graduation was around the corner and there would be no more Morning Meeting and no more school concerts. But to this day, every time I need a boost of confidence or a reminder that I can do the things I am most terrified of, I watch the video. Everytime I doubt myself; everytime I really want to do something but can’t work up the courage, I watch the video. The recording that I avoided for months out of fear of cringing at myself, is now my source of comfort to show that I can do it– whatever “it” may be . I can accomplish my goals. I can manifest my dreams into reality (like I literally did when I would pretend to perform it in my room). I can step out of my comfort zone and I can be seen and heard doing so.

Singing a song I adore more than anything in front of my teachers and classmates and family and friends was never on my bingo card when I started high school. But it was most certainly in the back of my mind. And the thoughts in the back of our minds show up for a reason.

Though this memory is still surreal to me today, the proof that it happened lies in the echoes of my own voice I hear when I need it most. After all, we all have a voice that’s meant to be heard.

Anyway, if you’ve never heard this song, give it a listen: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FTPUZ-H8Qa0