I never thought I would sing in public again.

When I was younger, I loved to sing. I was involved in theatre, my church choir, even singing as a soloist before I even started kindergarten. If there was ever a chance to be on a stage, I took it. I always dreamed of one day being involved in something big, something important related to my voice. 

However, those dreams slowly but surely died as I got older. As my age doubled, so did my nerves. By the time I got to middle and high school, the fear of being watched while I sang completely overtook me. Long gone were the days of me yearning for attention. In fact, I started to hide from it. As a result, instead of singing in public, loudly and proudly, my songs stayed within the confines of my room. The only audience I wanted to have was my own four walls.

That changed, though, when I arrived on campus. I heard about a lot of different vocal organisations here, and I thought I would give it a try. And so, I did. I started off by trying out for some of the acapella groups here on campus. That didn’t go so well for me. Of the few that I did try out for, I was flat-out rejected during the first round of auditions. I definitely expected it, but it also threw me for a bit of a loop. I already believed that I wasn’t good enough, and hearing these "no’s" solidified that belief in me. 

However, I had some very encouraging people in my life that advised me to keep going. So, I did. I ended up auditioning for the Harvard Choruses. Surprisingly, I got past the first round! However, my joy was short-lived. When it came time for the second round of auditions, I felt completely out of my element. Surrounding me were some extremely talented vocalists, who were flawlessly reading sheet music and singing lyrics I didn’t even know how to pronounce. As embarrassing as it may sound, during the middle of that round, I slipped silently out of Sanders Theatre and didn’t look back.

All of this happened at the beginning of my first semester during my First-Year Experience. After this, I had resolved to myself that whatever singing I had done during my past was definitely going to remain there. That all changed, though after Harvard-Yale. During the game, I was very kindly watched over by a group of Seniors who I wasn’t too familiar with. I soon discovered that two of them were from my hometown and, more importantly, one of them was the president of an organisation called Kuumba.

Initially, I hadn’t paid much attention to it, but for some reason, my mind kept bringing me back to the idea. I still can't think of what it was, but something just drew me in during my spring semester. Since then, I’ve been in love.

For a bit of context, Kuumba was founded in 1970 by Dennis Wiley and Fred Lucas from the Harvard class of 1972. Since its inception, its mission has been the same: to express the creativity and spirituality of Black people in a way that leaves a space better than it was found. This message doesn’t only apply to the spaces touched by Kuumba, though, but also the people. 

Since joining Kuumba during my first year, I’ve been a member of a true family here. I still remember my first rehearsal where all of the new vocalists were welcomed with a warm chant, a true display of the excitement held by the existing members about the growth of their family. One of my first experiences with them was the Spring Tour of 2024 where we got to spend the day down in Rhode Island. Even though I was fairly new to the group, I was brought in. I was seen in ways I didn’t expect people to notice. I felt loved by people who, just a few weeks ago, were strangers. 

That love led to me joining the Executive Board that following fall as the Tour Manager. Throughout my service in that role, I started to grow even closer to the other members of the choir, forming some of my favourite bonds since arriving on this campus. Most importantly, I felt supported beyond belief. I never had to be anyone that I wasn’t. I never had to reach unattainable expectations. I went from being a girl who never learned how to read sheet music to being a girl who still doesn’t know how to read sheet music, but is accepted, loved, and appreciated regardless. For the rest of my time at Harvard, and as I explore my life after graduation, I will forever be proud to call myself a Kuumbabe.