Letters by Deepa 01 | Seen, heard, and understood
Flashback from my summer of singing: a wall of faceless strangers, a circle of friends, and why I started this newsletter
My feet were firmly planted on the wooden floorboards of the stage at the Grand Théâtre de Tours, but my heart, like my voice, was soaring.
It was my first summer as a college student. I was 18 years old and I was singing with my college choir at the finals of the Florilege Vocal de Tours in Tours, France, one of the most prestigious choir competitions in the world.
This moment on stage was the climax of months of intense rehearsals and hard work, and the end of our three-month tour of Europe. It was also the pinnacle of the time in my life when I woke up every day with only one thing on my mind: singing.
In the summer of 2000, my life completely revolved around singing. I devoted myself and my days to what I loved most and was best at. I didn’t have to worry about anything except where and what what we would sing, how we would get to rehearsals and concerts, and what we would do after.
Sleep, eat, sing, repeat. In the company of my very best friends. In Europe. Sweet.
The last notes had faded into the dry air of the theater. Sir Joel, our conductor, had carried us to the conclusion of our programme with a final gesture.
The entire theater held its breath in absolute silence as he let his raised hand slowly, gracefully fall to his side.
Then it erupted into glorious, thunderous applause.
Faceless strangers in the dark
I will never forget what it sounded like. It was the first time I had heard so much applause in my life. It felt like it would never stop. I didn’t want it to stop.
Exhilaration bubbled up inside me as I realized the audience didn’t want us to walk off stage. They wanted more.
I remember laughing in delight. There is a kind of joy that cannot be contained by a smile ; it needs sound to be fully expressed.
I remember looking out into the theater, which was dark except for the glare of the stage lights, filled from the very first row to the very tops of the gold-trimmed boxes with people upon people. A wall of faceless strangers cheering and applauding.
Hearing my own voice in my ear and knowing I had done well, I drank in the crowd’s recognition. I felt deserving of their adulation and approval.
My voice had been part of something that had brought people to their feet, made them hold their breath or let out a sigh.
My voice had made people feel.
I felt seen. I felt recognized.
I wanted to see, hear and feel this for the rest of my life.
How a half-circle made it complete
However, the audience was only half of the experience.
The other half was the semi-circle of people standing with me onstage: the 39 other humans in my choir, who became my very best friends that summer.
By this time, we had grown so close to that I could anticipate when the person next to me would draw their next breath.
I didn’t have to look at them to know they felt the same euphoria I did. I didn’t have to turn around to know my joy was echoed by the people who shared it. I just knew.
As a choir, we were in complete sync with each other. As friends, we shared an experience that no one else would ever truly understand.
My joy was multiplied because it was shared.
And in that moment, I felt understood.
Why I started this newsletter
What does a 21 year-old memory of an obscure (except to choir geeks) choral competition in France have to do with my first newsletter?
For almost nine years, I’ve been posting to Instagram almost daily. The platform has changed a lot since I published my first post in 2012. My knowledge of social media and photography have grown along with my following. I’ve met amazing people, including some of my closest friends, and had great experiences along the way.
But lately, social media has started to feel like that wall of faceless strangers in the Grand Theatre de Tours. I enjoy the engagement and appreciate the visibility, but it’s taken on an impersonal, sometimes transactional anonymity.
It’s started to feel… incomplete.
Perhaps it’s the increased isolation of the past year; perhaps it’s because the pandemic has eliminated the possibility of rambling conversations on the doorsteps of pubs or in the smoking rooms of clubs; perhaps we all just have more time for lingering reads and have developed a taste for more meaningful conversations.
Whatever the confluence of factors, I’ve realized what’s been missing for me is a place where I feel understood. A smaller, more intimate circle of people closer to me, listening with empathy, who hear and understand me. Whose voices I hear right back.
Modern-day marketing speak and brand strategy will tell you, visibility is important. Build your personal brand, and all of that.
Well, I’m not a brand. I’m a human.
Social media is where I feel seen and recognized. In the writing and sharing of these letters, I hope to create a place where I can feel heard and understood.
And I hope one day, something I write makes you feel heard and understood too.
Here’s where I turn away from the wall of faceless strangers, and sing to the circle who understand.
Singing to the choir? I sure hope so.
Hey, you made it to the end of the first issue! Thank you so much for reading.
If you can’t already tell, writing is how I best make myself understood. So every two weeks, I’ll be diving deep and sharing my writing: the personal, the process, and the published.
I’ll also share audio episodes of me reading my writing (which I’m very excited about!). I’m also summoning the courage to tell you about my first book, which I’m working on at the moment.
If I’ve sparked any thoughts or questions, no matter how random, reply to this email or write me at storiesbydeepa@gmail.com. Or if you like, you can send me your answer to this question:
Where (or by whom) do you feel most seen? Where (or by whom) do you feel most understood? Are they different or the same? Why do you think that is?
I love conversations and I would love to hear from you. And if you like what you read here, please do share it with someone.
See you in two weeks!
If you would like to hear some of that life-changing applause, skip to the end of this live recording of us on Youtube. Feel free to play it whenever you need a boost.
Photo credits: Grand Theatre de Tours interior by Julien Descloux; Ateneo College Glee Club in Tours, France by Niner de Pano.
I’m also on Instagram, if you feel like some pretty pictures instead of a long read.
Letters by Deepa is a newsletter by Deepa Paul. Click here to subscribe.
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