When last we met [September 2007], I explained to you my research on singing as an avenue of leadership development. I shared some background on why I became interested in the topic and how I conducted my research. I also left you with a challenge to think about what it takes to be a singer, what it takes to be a leader, and to see if you notice any parallels.
Since then, I told a friend, a professor of economics, about this series of articles I’m writing for Classical Singer. He was interested in the topic and, after reading the first article, said that I raised an interesting issue. He then asked, in true economist fashion, whether I was claiming that participation in singing causes one to become a leader, and if so, how I could prove such a claim. After I rolled my eyes and smirked (which my friend didn’t see, since we communicate via e-mail), I gave him the answer that I’ve given others who asked similar questions, and that I’ll share with you now, in case you might be wondering the same thing.
My research was not about proving a “cause and effect,” which in social science research is called a positivist stance. It was not predicated on the idea of A + B = C.
The major point to investigate was whether the women I interviewed felt that participation in singing had fostered in them certain habits, ways of thinking and being, that are part of their leadership behavior. The question is not whether I’m proving something, but rather the meaning these women made from their encounters with singing. Here’s the way I said this in my dissertation:
“So, what do the findings of my study show? Do they show that the women I interviewed became leaders because of their participation in singing? No, and it would be foolish to claim such a cause-and-effect relationship. No single aspect or endeavor of one’s life is solely responsible for its outcome.
“Yet, the meaning that these women derived from their experiences as they involved themselves in singing tells the story and reveals the meta-meaning of this exploration, which Ann Karpf, in her book The Human Voice, fittingly expresses: ‘Finding one’s voice . . . is a powerful experience, with the capacity to alter one’s view of oneself and one’s place in the world.’
“Through participation in singing, a transformation in their understanding of themselves and their capabilities occurred in my respondents. In developing their voices, they developed aspects of themselves, aspects of their individual identities and awareness of their individual capacities. They developed a sense of efficacy around singing, a sense of ‘I Can,’ that enabled their attitudes of ‘I Can’ in other areas, including leadership.”
These articles are about the meaning we derive from certain experiences, for it is the meaning we give to each life experience that fosters feelings of inadequacy or competence. Let’s say, for instance, that you did well studying algebra in school. Maybe you started with a natural aptitude for algebra, or maybe not. Either way, to do well you had to decide that you wanted to master it. Therefore, you put your mental focus into making that achievement possible. You made a commitment to that endeavor. As you excelled at algebra, you developed a sense of assurance and pride about it, and derived a positive meaning from the experience.
The same goes for singing, only more so, because singing requires not just mental focus, but a holistic mental/physical/emotional focus and commitment from the singer. Through commitment to an endeavor, such as singing, we begin to truly attach meaning to the endeavor and learn from it.
As the women in my study talked about the kind of commitment they needed to master vocal technique, three distinct sub-themes surfaced that represent everything they said was part of being committed to learning to sing: vision, courage, and taking responsibility.
Asked what they felt was required of them in voice lessons, words and phrases such as “discipline,” “patience,” “perseverance,” “practice,” and “figuring it out”—all of which are part of taking responsibility—peppered their answers.
Some spoke of the necessary self-discipline involved in practicing. Others spoke of developing focus, preparation, and persistence to stick with the learning process and get past challenges.
Pamela (all participants names have been changed), a leader in the pharmaceutical industry, had this to say:
“Lots of practice . . . working until you get it right, and discipline physically. . . . I had to think about myself, physically breathing, but also when I’m not singing, what I was doing to my body, and then also discipline
mentally. . . extraordinary focus. I think of singing as taking much more focus than my current job. . . . And just rigor, sticking with it all the time.”
Her words speak to the level of responsibility and diligence involved in learning to sing.
Along with this level of responsibility, singing required courage from my respondents. By “courage,” I mean the kind of fortitude, willingness to experiment, openness to feedback and new ideas, flexibility, and resilience these women consistently had to display as they studied singing.
One response that particularly illustrates this came from Marcie, a program director at a large philanthropic foundation. Her answer is complex and conveys how a singer’s whole self is challenged when taking on the combined physical, mental, and emotional demands of singing:
“Fearlessness, to be able to try things that are mind-body connected, and to be able to link intellectual inquiry . . . with what is deeply visceral and emotional and personal. . . . To be fearless in the sense of when you’re trying to surmount all of these odd things that technically try to get you into your body and yet out of your body at the same time, to figure out a way to technically create better sound . . . requires a level of trust in yourself and a level of fearlessness . . . in not caring what’s around. Being there for the moment and tackling physical, emotional, intellectual challenges . . . requires a level of fearlessness within a problem-solving context.”
What powered the courage to take responsibility for their pursuit of singing is “vision,” or the goals—to progress, to master certain elements of vocal technique, to learn certain pieces for a competition or performance—that motivated their pursuit.
Donna summed it up best: “Probably the desire to progress . . . because that gets you through everything else . . . if you have the desire to do it. I think that’s the thing that gives you the courage, and the discipline, and the willingness to give up what you have to give up to progress.”
The women also discussed commitment as an aspect of performance. Each woman was asked what she felt singing solo in public required of her. Donna said that for her, practice, planning, and focus were vital to a successful performance. Susan mentioned self-management and flexibility:
“When someone would hire me to do a solo gig, it’s completely on me, and I’m given, ‘Here’s your outline. Here’s your goal objective. Show up at this date and time,’ and I have to have done all of those things. They’re not going to hold my hand through that. So, it’s being able to manage yourself, and know what’s expected of you, and being flexible, too, because . . . it’s never exactly the tempo that you expected, or maybe you rehearsed something incorrectly and the maestro says: ‘No. Change that’ . . . and you’ve got to be able to turn on a dime.”
Pamela spoke of preparation as the basis for a free and spontaneous performance. In discussing the realities of performing, she also shared an experience that showed the need for a singer to develop resilience:
“In college, we would do these performances for each other . . . and you could just see the eye rolls . . . and lots of backstabbing. . . . To try to put that in context, and then keep getting back up on that stage. . . . It’s hard and necessary, and I learned a lot through that process.”
Jane relayed a specific instance that points out the need for persistence to figure things out when faced with a performance challenge:
“When I did Into the Woods, I had a solo that I had to sing on my knees. . . . I was like. . . ‘I can’t support from there . . . it’s going to sound awful.’ And I ended up saying to myself, ‘OK, I will get on my knees, but I will find a position that works for me’. . . I had to adjust with it until I hit that spot where I said ‘Ah. Here’s where I can do it.’”
Sandra mentioned the courage needed to sing in front of an audience. Her words reveal the personal nature of singing and why it can be an intimidating undertaking:
“Singing is such a personal, intimate thing—it’s a part of you. It always takes courage to go out and share that with other people. Especially when you know, in an audition or competition, that the people who are watching you are judging you. . . . So it does take that certain element of courage.”
What does all of this have to do with leadership? Pick up any number of recent books on the subject and you’ll read that leaders need to have vision, and the courage to enact that vision by taking responsibility for bringing it to fruition, whatever that entails. Do these habits of commitment that you develop in pursuit of singing make you a leader? No, but they are habits of mind and ways of being that you can tap when you find yourself in a leadership role. The women in my study felt strongly that learning to sing nurtured within them habits of commitment that are part of the way they function as leaders.
Leaders also need to connect with and influence others, which is the topic of the next article. Till then, consider how singing may foster within you the four key areas of connection: awareness, emotional connection, collaboration, and presence.
