The talent narrative
We put a lot of pressure on ourselves to get it right when learning a new skill. At times, that pressure can veer into punitive self-criticism with a healthy dose of defeatism. I’ve seen my students struggle to acknowledge their successes because they have more practice at finding the failures. I imagine it feels safer to keep the pressure on. That pressure can feel especially poignant when the new skill is literal and figurative self-expression. Your identity is limitless in all of its facets and intersections, my love. And. When the stakes are high, as they often are with gender-affirming voice, it’s easy to get stuck in feeling discouraged for not being able to “get it right” quicker.
As with all things, there are several layers to this. Societal, medical, and legal rigidity and oppression make it impossible to embody gender with intention and “get it right.” Gender itself is a perpetually moving target, and how close we get to the bullseye can determine everything from basic healthcare to our deep, human need for belonging. Assimilation seems to be the key that unlocks decent behavior from the status quo, and it is f*cking tragic and infuriating. “Getting it right” often means “perform gender in a way that keeps others comfortable.” The patriarchy runs deep, y’all. Let’s keep on finding ways to dismantle it.
So, what is the talent narrative?
The talent narrative tells us, “either ya got it, or ya don’t.” When applied to singing and performance, the talent narrative perpetuates that “it” factor—whatever “it” is, usually a strong sense of determination and self-confidence. In the singing world, this talent narrative puts up serious barriers for some singers who want to invest in their art. Teachers sometimes use this narrative to screen students and decide whether they are worthy of education and mentorship—super gross. That’s not what we’re about. We know you can sing, and as the iconic Trans Handy Ma’am Mercury Stardust says, “you’re worth the time it takes to learn a new skill.”
Specifically, in the realm of feminine voice, the talent narrative shows up as, “I don’t want to have to think about it. Just have it be natural.” Like Emma Stone, Ayo Edebiri, Cree Summer, Tara Strong—they can just slip in and out of voices super easy, right? And probably don’t have to even think about their voices when they’re not working, right? I should be able to do that too, right? Just have it be on autopilot?
Sweet, sweet friend. That is entirely too much pressure to place on yourself. Even voice actors, and voice teachers, think about our voices all the time. Sure, it takes fewer brain processing units to sense when the voice feels “off” and how to get it back “on,” but that’s only because it has been years of thinking about it every time we talk. It’s hard work! I say that to remind you that it is ok if this voice stuff takes work.
The talent narrative influences gender perception, too.
Cisnormativity and heteronormativity tacitly (and sometimes explicitly) govern much of our day-to-day lives. Because these gender and sexuality norms have become self-perpetuating and self-preserving, those of us who live at the edges—or even directly transgress the norms—are at risk. So we rely on the pressure to “get it right” as a way to keep us safe. None of this comes naturally, my loves. It’s ok if it feels hard. You got this, and we got you.
To flip the script and combat the talent narrative, here are a few reminders and affirmations for you. We are in this together, and you are capable.
Replace “natural” with “habitual.” We can absolutely create new habits, and we can release this idea that habits are natural. Most folks around us have deeply engrained habits within their speech that they are not even aware of, and sometimes we mistakenly label that as natural rather than just a habit that developed over time. We get to choose, which is pretty powerful!
Practice makes predictable. We’re not going for perfect, we’re going for predictable. Predictability creates self-awareness and self-trust in your ability to teach and guide yourself. Predictability allows you to assess objectively whether the internal directive you gave yourself came out how you thought it would. Perfection removes your agency in determining your own successes—predictability puts you squarely into the driver’s seat.
Two things can be true. Patriarchy makes it impossible to live up to an arbitrary and constantly changing set of expectations around gender expression/performance. AND. We get to choose how we engage with it. There will be times when it serves you to leverage the status quo to your advantage and make life a little easier. That does not mean you have to ascribe to harmful gender narratives. On the contrary, I believe it can be liberating to work the system to your advantage while also expressing yourself genuinely and fully. You beautiful, powerful, complex and creative human, you.
I believe in you!
<3
Liz
