I have always struggled with expressing myself and navigating social interactions. It’s been that way for as long as I can remember, and the struggle is exacerbated by the fact that I tend to overthink every aspect of a conversation – both during and after it.
I’ve spent years trying to overcome that social awkwardness – reading self-help books, practicing in the mirror or simply trying to put myself out there socially – but nothing ever seemed to help. However, there is one way in which I do not struggle to express myself: karaoke.
Given that speaking to people in a public setting feels nearly impossible for me at the best of times, I never would have thought that I would be able to sing in front of people, let alone enjoy it. Not only am I able to – I love it.
My mother and a friend of hers used to frequent a Henry Hudson’s Pub that held karaoke almost every Saturday. While my mother never sang, her friend often would, and one day they invited me to come with them on karaoke night.
I was just as much of an introvert then as I am now, so I was as surprised as they were when I agreed to give karaoke a try. I figured that I would try it once, hate it and then never do it again. What happened was something completely different.
All I typically listen to are depressing songs, but I figured anyone at the pub would be too inebriated to care, so the very first song I ever sang was “Fine Again” by Seether.
Despite its depressing nature, there was something about singing the song to a room full of people that I found to be liberating. I instantly fell in love with karaoke and have found myself returning to that same pub a couple of times per year – even though I don’t drink – just so I can participate in more karaoke.
I think the primary draw of karaoke for me is the fact that it feels cathartic – like venting to a group of people in a way that’s socially acceptable. I think that’s why I tend to gravitate toward depressing songs. Singing them helps me process the struggles associated with my mental health and the various traumas that I have endured.
This is one of the most difficult columns I have written because it is hard to adequately describe why karaoke seems to take away my shyness in a public setting. The best I can do is liken the feeling to that of a switch going off in my head. I’m a reserved overthinker one minute, but once I start singing, it’s a completely different dynamic.
The difference between how I am when I’m singing and when I’m just trying to speak to people is like night and day. I took a public speaking class during my first year at OCCC, and I often joked about how I’d rather sing in front of the class than give a speech.
The idea of singing in class was only a half joke, however, as I frequently advocated for a class karaoke session at the end of the semester – and almost succeeded. Time constraints ultimately put an end to that idea, but I believe it would have happened otherwise.
Once I took my job at The Pioneer, I made my advisor, Melissa Davis, aware of my proclivity for karaoke, and she was gracious enough to buy a portable karaoke machine that we have used on a few special occasions, such as end-of-semester employee gatherings. We even hosted an event at the end of last spring that was open to the entire campus – and I’d say it was a huge hit!
The point of sharing all this is to demonstrate the difference that karaoke has made in the way I experience social situations. While I still don’t know why that disparity exists in the first place, I do know this: Karaoke has allowed me to express myself in ways that I otherwise feel incapable of – even here at OCCC.
Self-expression can take many forms – such as singing and writing, in my case – but we often don’t know what brings us out of our shells unless we’re willing to try new things. I have convinced several family members and even peers at OCCC to give karaoke a chance, and many of them ended up loving it. While karaoke may not be for everyone, you can’t know one way or another until you try.
Everyone needs a way to express themselves – a way to feel seen or heard. For some, it can come naturally through social interactions. For others, an external outlet might be required, and there’s nothing wrong with that.
I didn’t find my way of feeling heard until I discovered my love for karaoke – and later writing – in my mid-20s. There is no predetermined timeframe for finding what works for you. Everyone’s path looks different, and there’s no point in holding yourself to standards that don’t match your lived experience.
I want to end this column by encouraging my readers to put themselves out there. Like me, you might find yourself enjoying writing or singing. Perhaps you’re like my little brother, and your passion lies with tinkering. Whatever the case may be, there’s something out there for everyone. You need only to seek it out.
