How I Found My Voice Through the Music Program

By Nevaeh Williams 

If I’m being completely honest, I don’t remember consciously choosing to study music at George Fox. I changed my major multiple times. Throughout my changes I tried adding (and subsequently dropping) a few minors and even declared two majors at once.

No matter how many times I redid my whole life plan, I always seemed to come back to music. It’s a bit ironic because I’ve never been particularly into practicing, discipline, or doing what people tell me to do, which are all inevitable in collegiate music programs. Despite this apparent mismatch, I just couldn’t seem to get away from George Fox’s music program.

An Opportunity to be Heard

Two main draws for me were the community to be found and the opportunity to be heard. I grew up as part of a large family with nine younger siblings, so I was always fighting to be louder than everyone else. You race to see who can be faster to the leftovers, fight to get the best seat in the car, and yell the loudest so everyone can hear your voice. Being at George Fox was the first time I didn’t have to yell to be heard. Instead, I was given the opportunity to stand alone on stage and sing my songs – the ones I wrote – in front of an audience that was there to know me and hear my story.

Being on stage with just you, a guitar and a blinding spotlight is a very vulnerable experience. For the first time, everyone was listening to what I had to say. I eventually joined a songwriting and storytelling group on campus called Epiphany. The stories we told were ones from our own lives, and the songs were spun together either individually or with one another. We shared our art everywhere we could, from nursing homes to high schools to churches.

As part of the program, I was given space in the middle of our set to perform on my own and share a song I had written. It was the first time I did anything like that, but the experience went beyond simply wanting people to hear my voice. I found a new love for creating community through sharing my story.

A Song that Resonated

When I was graduating from high school, I was overcome with the bittersweet feeling of moving.In an effort to come to terms with the transition, I wrote a song called Fireflies about leaving something you loved in preparation for something new. It was a very high school song and I was proud of it, but I didn’t really expect anyone to care much about an 18-year-old girl’s experience. Despite this, I chose to perform the song in Epiphany and I was shocked at the response. I never could have anticipated the number of people who would connect to it – people who just want to be seen and understood.

I had elderly people at nursing homes approach me afterwards to share how much my song resonated with them and the stage of life they were in, coping with friends dying and watching the world move on without them. They were 50 years older than me and graduated from high school a long time ago, but they cried as I sang. I had moms from church and teenagers in high school come up and let me know how much they related to my song. Although sharing my music was a terrifying experience, I realized how many other people feel similarly to me and I would never even have known. 

A Space to Share My Story

The George Fox music program has given me the space to share my story, and in doing so, given me the space to connect with many different people from all walks of life. At first, I just wanted people to listen to what I had to say, but then I realized that everyone else has their own experiences and emotions and stories to tell, and I can help them tell their story through telling my own.

That’s the thing: Music isn’t supposed to be a selfish or solitary experience. Coming in, I thought it was about performing and becoming the best, which definitely has its place, but the music program here has shown me that it’s more about the community and the connections you make when you take the chance to share your heart with the world.

The ‘Risk’ is Worth It

I’m not going to lie: Choosing and pursuing music as your major is risky. It takes so much courage to step out into the unknown and be uncomfortable, but it’s so worth it. I could have stayed in my room, playing my songs for my cat, and no one would ever have judged me, told me I needed to change things, or kindly informed me that my songs sucked. I also never would have met the people I did, never improved, or realized that my passion could take me so much further than my room.

Maybe most importantly, I wouldn’t have the support system and community I do now. The music community is always pushing you to grow and try new things while always encouraging you and making sure that you know it’s all worth it. I know now that it’s worth it. I’ve gone so far beyond just wanting to be heard. I want others to be heard through me, and I want to use the vulnerability through my songwriting to create community and a sense of belonging wherever I go.