Step Up to the Mic: Letting My Voice Be Heard
I was not the kind of student who eagerly thrust my arm in the air to respond to questions or initiate discussion around a particular topic. I was a good student, focused on getting my work done, but preferred not to be called on. I was shy and reserved when it came to public expression. Nerves around public speaking stemmed from constant doubts: what I was going to say; if I would frame it well; and whether it would be valued. Apprehension and self-consciousness were on-going challenges from grade school through high school and a terrible hindrance to the development of my verbal expression.
That all changed when I stepped into a leadership position at the Riverside Theater. Ironically, I didn’t realize that I would be reigniting an old challenge when I lobbied to create arts events. Producing and presenting are primarily behind-the-scenes roles—until they are not. If I was going to create the programs, it meant that I had to be the spokesperson to convey the theater’s mission and promote the programs. I had never held a position with that level of public-facing responsibility—one that required consistent public communication to motivate and engage people.
The feelings were familiar: a tightness in my throat, my heart beating fast, my thoughts racing—that was my emotional state standing in the wings before I stepped out to welcome people and introduce that evening’s program. Walking out on the stage, looking out at 250 expectant faces with lights beaming brightly on me, I could only pray that my words would be clear, authentic, and set the tone for the importance of what they were about to experience.
As I developed more programs, my role expanded to moderating dialogues and panels as well as representing the theater at community alliances and collaborations. I also made board and council presentations, hosted festivals, and appeared on radio and tv shows. As serendipity would have it, a Toastmaster’s group began at Riverside and I jumped at the opportunity to get insights from an organization that had taught public speaking and communication since 1924. It was timely and proved to be a good decision.
As my commitment to expose societal issues through the arts deepened, it became easier for me to speak with assurance and passion. I was now stepping into a beam of light to illuminate such ills as poverty, racial inequality, and environmental inequities. Fear had no place in those moments. One of the last programs I created before leaving Riverside was An Evening with Women of Excellence to acknowledge the voices and contributions of exceptional women in the arts. The first year recognized Sonia Sanchez, Eisa Davis, Carmen de Lavallade, and Hope Boykin. The second year, pictured below, featured Ester Armah, Carol Maillard (Sweet Honey and the Rock), Ntozake Shange, Ruby Dee, Jowale Willa Jo Zollar (Urban Bush Women), Glory Van Scott, and Tamara Tunie.
My fourteen-year theater odyssey became the means through which the throat tightness, the heart-racing, and the uncertainty in my public speaking capabilities were quelled. I could confidently accept an offer to host a year of Avatar Face 2 Face, a cable program showcasing artists, while produce public programs under my own company and, ultimately, facilitating workshops and webinars through the Jazz Leadership Project (JLP).
Your Sound, a practice of our JLP model, is about establishing the style and consistency of your voice—which makes you unique. Through the practice of being In the Shed (ongoing deliberate practice), our sound takes shape, defining who we are and how we show up in the world. The theater was my “shed.”
Through my voice, I could educate, persuade, inspire, and inform. As I learned how to express and share, I built trust that established what I stood for and valued. My voice tells my truth, filled with all my hopes, pain, challenges, and bliss.
