I was every bit of a ‘90s kid. I wore windbreakers and was obsessed with the Mighty Morphin Power Rangers. No one could tell me that I was not the seventh ranger. Also, I played outside frequently, watched Saturday morning cartoons, and owned a treasured collection of cassette tapes. The “Space Jam” soundtrack stayed in my Walkman! I remember sitting by my stereo and waiting to hear my favorite hits (I particularly loved me some Brandy and still do!) so I can record them on my cassettes to transcribe the melodies and reharmonize them on my little Casio keyboard. Back then, I primarily listened to R&B, pop, gospel, hip-hop, and rock styles that continue to influence my music artistry style that is uniquely lush, harmony-flavored pop R&B. As a fellow musician, my elementary school teacher Ms. Teresa always incorporated music into her curriculum, and that made school fun for me. She was not only an outstanding Southern gospel keyboardist and mezzo-soprano vocalist, but also a second mom to me. Later in life, after an especially traumatic experience with a former piano teacher that caused me to take a hiatus from music in middle and high school, I reconnected with Ms. Teresa. She was the first music teacher that did not try to force me into an artistic box, guided me in stepping forward into music post-trauma, and helped me to shape my musicianship and my own sound. In college, my voice teacher Professor Jewett, a fellow baritone, helped me acknowledge and build on my musical strengths and explore facets of my voice I had not yet known. In my doctoral program, my voice instructor Professor Crockett, a jazz artist based in Washington, D.C., guided me back to embracing my roots while strengthening parts of my voice I had abandoned trying to fit into certain systemic ideals that are still incredibly prevalent in music academia today. She helped me to see the worth in what I offer to the creative community and to the world, and for that, I am eternally grateful. As I continue my doctoral journey, which, I hope, leads to a tenure-track university professorship, I desire to meet students exactly where they are. I want to meet them where they are to show them that who they are and what they do are more than enough. I want to reinforce a safe, collaborative environment in which they can freely explore and discover their artistic voices with confidence and without the fear of cruel judgment. I want to model the positive influence and speak life into aspiring artists as my mentors exemplified for me. It only takes one person to make a significant difference in someone else’s life, and I am honored to follow a path that provides meaningful, purposeful opportunities to help others soar.

Zuri is a university freshman majoring in contemporary commercial music (CCM) with an emphasis in vocal performance. The fall semester just started, and she is ecstatic about her first voice lesson with Professor Jourdan. Zuri exclaims, “Prof. Jordan, I am so excited about getting started!” Prof. Jourdan replies, “Yes, I am ready for us to explore your voice together!” Zuri asks, “So, you should know that I am obsessed with Ariana Grande. We sound a lot alike. Could we work on her song ‘Baby I’?” “There will be time to work on Ariana Grande repertoire later in your studies,” Prof. Jordan says. “However, as an underclassman voice performance major, you are required to enroll in a minimum of two consecutive classical Applied Voice sections this fall and next spring.” With a puzzled look, Zuri responds, “But I didn't sign up for classical lessons. I want to be a pop R&B artist.” “I’m so sorry, Zuri, but those are the rules.” Though this scenario is hypothetical, student-artists and university vocal instructors often have this kind of conversation. Traditionally, U.S. collegiate singing voice programs have prioritized vocal training principally based on Western Eurocentric musical practices, including opera and the bel canto singing technique. As 21st-century voice research continues to evolve, modernizing vocal training to make it more comprehensive and more stylistically inclusive and interdisciplinary is taking place. However, some pedagogues still insist that classical vocal training remains superior over contemporary voice training in cultivating musicianship, artistic versatility, and professional marketability. A need exists to precisely define CCM vocal pedagogy, delve into its unique identity and resourcefulness, and explore how voice instructors can utilize it to teach non-classical American styles rooted in gospel and blues. For my dissertation during this upcoming last year of my doctoral program, I plan to investigate this need. Classical training certainly possesses benefits. However, it is not always necessary for teaching contemporary vocal styles or relevant to a student-artist’s goals. This is the case for Zuri. The multifaceted singer-songwriter Ariana Grande is heavily influenced by prolific singer-songwriter Mariah Carey, whose artistry is significantly inspired by the trailblazing gospel group The Clark Sisters. The renowned “Queen of Soul” Aretha Franklin played a vital role in The Clark Sisters’ signature sound. Why do I point out these connections? In teaching “Baby I,” discussing these connections and assigning Zuri a supplementary song by any of the mentioned influential musicians would sensibly yield more technical, cultural, and artistic fruit than teaching an Italian aria would. Amid the federal overhaul of graduate school funding, this scholarship would be a timely, invaluable resource for helping me equip CCM voice teachers with specific, culturally responsive, contextually relevant tools with which to teach contemporary vocal styles more effectively. In turn, it will aid in enhancing student learning and enriching vocal pedagogues’ research experiences. With this funding, I look forward to contributing research that empowers others to build with healthy curiosity and an informed sense of purpose!

I see colors and different scenery when I hear music. I know: bizarre, right? Allow me to explain. Music has occupied a treasured space in my life ever since I was a three-year-old reharmonizing melodies from my favorite nineties radio hits on my Casio electric keyboard. As a bright, introverted, imaginative kid, I found solace in music. It became my main mode of expressing my active, sometimes turbulent inner world. It became my escape from life’s mundanity, my journal for processing trauma, and my companion with whom to celebrate victories. Little kid Joshua and teenage Joshua were bullied often for not fitting the Black male stereotype propagated by some forms of media and not meeting the unsolicited societal expectations of some classmates and family members. Amid the chaos and melancholy, music always met me where I was to carry me through especially tough times. I grew up primarily listening to Brandy (she is one of my top vocal influences!), Whitney Houston, Boyz II Men, Mary J. Blige, Christina Aguilera, NSYNC, Kirk Franklin, Destiny’s Child, The Clark Sisters, Tupac, BeBe and CeCe Winans, Fred Hammond, Céline Dion, and other trailblazing artists from the stylistic realms of R&B, gospel, hip-hop, and pop. Observing how much I loved music, my beautiful and intuitive late-adoptive mother asked five-year-old Josh if I wanted to take piano lessons. I remember immediately answering with a “Yes,” and the rest is history. Even as a kid, I always saw colors and scenery with different musical keys. For example, the key of E major is lime green and makes me think of the beach with ripe tropical fruit. The key of A major is a warm, earth-toned brick red with scenes of an autumn sunset. This phenomenon, in which activation of one sensory stimulates that of another sensory, is called “synesthesia.” In my case, I experience synesthesia with another neurological occurrence called “absolute pitch” (also known as “perfect pitch”), with which I can identify a musical pitch, chord, or key and reproduce a musical pitch without an external reference (e.g., piano, guitar, etc.). Multiple sources vary regarding the rarity in prevalence of absolute pitch. According to a 2019 review article by Carden and Cline, as few as 4% of musicians exhibit the ability of absolute pitch. The term "perfect pitch" never crossed my mind until I was a high school junior, during which I play keyboard and sang background vocals in a local Christian rock band. One day, one of my bandmates asked me, “Hey, what’s this song’s chord progression?” Without hesitation, I replied, “The verses are E major and A major chords, and the chorus chords are A major, B major, C# minor, and E major.” My bandmate inquired, “Do you have perfect pitch?” I responded, “What’s that?” That was the moment I discovered the term "perfect pitch," and from that moment on, I became the unofficial human musical tuning fork among my musician friends, a role that simultaneously exists as a blessing and a curse. Nonetheless, I feel honored and humbled to experience such a special, fascinating ability. To embrace absolute pitch and synesthesia has been a wild ride throughout my life. The ride has been worthwhile, as it has opened doors to remarkable professional opportunities and has been an extraordinary catalyst from which to explore unique facets of my being. These facets allow me to contribute to the creative community with confidence, courage, and an ever-invigorating sense of purpose. For that, I am eternally grateful.

The nineties and early 2000s presented some beautifully enriching times and some not-so-good times for me in my small-town community. I was a bright, hugely imaginative, creative, introverted kid who yearned to be seen and heard but often hid when any perceived threat to my vulnerability and sensitivity arose. On top of that, I did not fit the Black stereotype that media and other societal influences continue to propagate. I was adopted by a Black family, who often questioned my Blackness and gave my mom extensive grief about the resources she accessed for me to maximize my academic and artistic potential (I love how much she always advocated for me!). At the small, rural, religiously affiliated high school that I attended, I experienced quite a bit of microaggressions and explicit racism: “Why are your knees, elbows, and gums so dark? You look like you took a bath in mud!” “Smile, Josh! I only see your teeth in these dark woods.” “You’re like an Oreo: White on the inside and Black on the outside.” “You look like a [N-word].” “What are you going to do about it, [N-word]?” All these things played a part in developing figuratively paralyzing low self-esteem and a distorted sense of self, even to this day. Amid the external chaos and internal tumult, one thing remained constant: the support from my adoptive mother, whom I affectionately call “Mom.” In 2018, Mom’s medical team diagnosed her with Alzheimer’s disease. That same year, I became her primary attorney-in-fact and full-time caregiver. In 2021, I made one of the toughest, most painful decisions in my life: I placed her in a skilled nursing facility where she could receive the high quality 24-hour care that she desperately needed. Unfortunately, in August 2025, she lost her battle with Alzheimer’s, and God decided that Mom needed to transition from this side of life. She had mental and emotional struggles while here on Earth. Because of extremely traumatic childhood and young adulthood circumstances, she experienced an immense amount of depression, anxiety, and psychoses. Throughout it all, she always advocated for herself and those she loved and was consistently persistent in pursuing healing for herself. Also, she selflessly took on the roles of mother, sister, aunt, cousin, and friend. I admire her tenacity. Especially now, her example of strength, compassion, kindness, and unconditional love carry me through this life. Her resolve to seek healing has been the main inspiration for my seeking healing through consistent mental health therapy appointments and connection to my support system who continue to speak life into me, as well as lovingly hold me accountable. As a Master of Science in Speech and Hearing Science student and former president of Tennessee State University's NSSHLA (National Student Speech Language Hearing Association) chapter, I led a Mental Health Matters campaign that emphasized the importance of advocating and providing resources for graduate and undergraduate students. As a current music doctorate student, I have steadily attending mental healthy therapy appointments, which have been incredibly supportive. Because of this, I actively advocate for mental health therapy for all students. As an introverted otrovert, I easily find solace in solitude and inward processing. However, Mom taught me that it is OK to not be OK and to ask for help. She also taught me how to love people and to be myself unapologetically. For that, I am eternally grateful, and I carry that into my artistic and professional pursuits.

The nineties and early 2000s presented some fun, beautifully enriching times and some not-so-good times for me in my small-town community. I was a bright, hugely imaginative, creative, introverted kid who yearned to be seen and heard but often hid when any perceived threat to my vulnerability and sensitivity arose. On top of that, I did not fit the Black stereotype that media and other societal influences continue to propagate. I was adopted by a Black family, who often questioned my Blackness and gave my mom extensive grief about the resources she accessed for me to maximize my academic and artistic potential (I love how much she always advocated for me!). At the small, rural, religiously affiliated high school that I attended, I experienced quite a bit of microaggressions and explicit racism: “Why are your knees, elbows, and gums so dark? You look like you took a bath in mud!” “Smile, Josh! I only see your teeth in these dark woods.” “You’re like an Oreo: White on the inside and Black on the outside.” “You look like a [N-word].” “What are you going to do about it, [N-word]?” All these occurrences played a part in developing paralyzing low self-esteem and a distorted sense of self, even to this day. Amid the external chaos and internal tumult, one thing remained constant: the support from my adoptive mother, whom I affectionately call “Mom.” In 2018, Mom’s medical team diagnosed her with Alzheimer’s disease. That same year, I became her primary attorney-in-fact and full-time caregiver. In 2021, I made one of the toughest, most painful decisions in my life: I placed her in a skilled nursing facility where she could receive the high quality 24-hour care that she desperately needed. Unfortunately, in August 2025, she lost her battle with Alzheimer’s, and God decided that Mom needed to transition from this side of life. Seeing her slowly succumb to the thief that is Alzheimer's was devastating. She had mental and emotional struggles while here on Earth. Because of extremely traumatic childhood and young adulthood circumstances, she experienced an immense amount of depression, anxiety, and psychoses. Throughout it all, she always advocated for herself and those she loved and was consistently persistent in pursuing healing for herself. Also, she selflessly took on the roles of mother, sister, aunt, cousin, and friend. I admire her tenacity. Especially now, her example of strength, compassion, kindness, and unconditional love carries me through this life. Her resolve to seek healing has been the main inspiration for my seeking healing through consistent mental health therapy appointments and connection to my support system, who continue to speak life into me, as well as lovingly hold me accountable. As an introverted otrovert, I easily find solace in solitude and inward processing. However, Mom taught me that it is OK to not be OK and to reach out for help. She also taught me how to love people and to be myself unapologetically. For that, I am eternally grateful, and I carry that into my artistic and professional pursuits.

Lately, music has taken up a different kind of space in my life. These days, I have been privately and collegiately teaching more and performing less. To be completely honest, performing less has been a natural consequence of dealing with some hard life matters: my mom’s Alzheimer’s journey ended last August, I have not yet landed an assistant professorship to have access to a steady income, processing the U.S.’s current political and societal circumstances has been deeply devastating and confusing, etc. Amid the chaos, music has remained my constant. My mom, my angel, was the first person in my life to recognize the gift of music within me. As a nineties kid, I absolutely loved listening to the radio to wait for my favorite songs to come on, record them on my cassette tapes, transcribe the melodies, and reharmonize them on my little Casio keyboard I received one Christmas. In 1995, Mom asked five-year-old Joshua, “Do you want to take piano lessons?” He responded, “Yeah,” and the rest is history. In my adoptive family, I am the youngest of six children with eighteen years between my youngest adoptive sibling and me. My siblings were already out of the house by the time my parents adopted me, so I grew up as an only child. I was an introverted kid who turned inward in conflict, celebration, and everything else in between, and I had a huge imagination that was cultivated by having to spend time with myself. This included extensive time with my stereo and my keyboard, which I did not mind at all. As a child, I considered music not only my primary mode of expression, but it also became my escape. It existed as my unbiased comforter, reflective mirror, canvas of endless artistic possibilities, and non-judgmental best friend. Through mental illness and specific traumatic situations that no child should ever endure, music remained by my side. Years later, when I reconnected with my biological family, it became apparent that a reason music came second-nature to me was that it flowed through my veins: my biological mother has a beautiful soprano voice, and my maternal grandfather has a lovely tenor voice (he swears he is a bass, but he is definitely not) and plays piano. Undoubtedly, the first person I must thank is my mom, my adoptive mother. She saw the gift within me and sacrificed so much for me to access the resources I need to explore and expand my musicianship. This is a main reason that I dedicated my latest single, “Hold On,” to her: she truly is the wind beneath my wings. “Hold On” is a breezy, lush, summer-flavored R&B-pop bop that simply encourages anyone going through tough times to keep moving forward and to refuse to let life’s trials overly burden them. It started as a GarageBand Mobile idea on my iPhone at the height of COVID-19, during which I was my mom’s full-time caregiver and an adjunct voice instructor at a university in Nashville, TN. The song was birthed out of desperation for hope. My mom was a shining example of tenacity, compassion, and genuinely unconditional love, and her strength continues to carry me through the challenging times. She is a main source of hope for me. I know firsthand how the power of music can provide sustenance. In triumphant and disastrous moments, music has existed as a constant catalyst of expression and freedom. For this, I have my beautiful mom to thank.

One of the most important relationships I had the honor of having in my life was the one with my adoptive mother, my mom. She was one of my most consistent, most enthusiastic supporters of my academic and musical endeavors. With opportunities like this one, she would always say, “Go for it, baby! Go for it while you have the time!” Especially considering the limited accessibility to non-institutional scholarships for doctoral and post-Master’s students in an unpredictable, disheartening age of anti-intellectualism, I am certainly going for it. As she had refused to see me fail, I refuse to allow any hindrances (including financial burdens) to stand in the way as I move into my concluding year of my Doctor of Musical Arts degree program in contemporary commercial music (CCM) voice pedagogy. My mother’s medical team officially diagnosed her with Alzheimer’s disease in 2018, during which I was in my second year of adjunct teaching at a university in Nashville, TN. During this period, I lived in Nashville full-time. However, having to face by myself the reality and the challenges of her diagnosis and the subsequential mental and physical decline she experienced, I decided to move back home to Kentucky in 2019 to take care of her. I also kept my adjunct instructor position, as I still needed a steady income. Until May 2021, I was her primary caregiver and had to confront tough decisions regarding her care while working and dealing with my own challenging personal circumstances. No words can sufficiently describe the gravity of caring for a loved one with Alzheimer’s disease. One common misconception is that Alzheimer’s disease only affects memory. However, Alzheimer’s can negatively impact organs, muscles, comprehension, cognitive skills, language use, reading and writing skills, mobility, physical strength, eating habits, and other things that require healthy brain function. I know this from experience and from having an amazing, insightful medical team that helped both of us begin to navigate this difficult journey. In the beginning, I had no clue what I was doing as she increasingly became dependent on me. The researcher in me became as resourceful as possible while reaching out to people and places that could potentially be of service. At the same time, the kid in me was grieving the person my mom used to be and the person she was becoming, who I knew would also evolve into someone else because of the nature of Alzheimer’s. Regarding care, I had no sustainable help, and those few who genuinely wanted to help could not provide aid as they wanted because of physical distance. The beginning of that season of life proved to be a trying time for both Mom and me. As time moved forward, I became more knowledgeable about Alzheimer’s and caregiving, and we established a rhythm in daily care. My goal was to care for her as she cared for me as a child, and I would like to believe I did that. In 2021, I realized that as much as I wanted, I could not provide her with the professional medical care that she needed, and I made the immensely hard decision to admit her into a skilled nursing facility. After doing extensive research, I chose a facility that was equipped to do the things I no longer could do for Mom, including providing her with 24-hour comprehensive care. The facility staff also led me to an elder law attorney, who extensively guided me through the admissions and financial processes during such a layered transition. Thinking about that first day I had to leave Mom still brings me to tears, but I know I made the most informed decision that I could, thanks to helpful legal and medical resources, in addition to prayers and support from friends and some family who genuinely cared about us. What I learned and continue to learn from that experience is that we are never alone, even in our lonely moments. Furthermore, I am learning that limitations can elicit opportunities to creatively adapt and grow as circumstances change. Mom’s Alzheimer’s journey ended in August of 2025. Life has been so hard without her, but I carry her strength, her kindness, her compassion, her resolve, and her persistence wherever I go. She loved people fiercely and unapologetically, and she never judged anyone. She was the ultimate example of unconditional love. She was a significant part of the village who raised me, and as her son and former primary attorney-in-fact, I am honored to belong to her.

In my family’s household, finances always existed as a contentious, taboo, stressful topic. My parents had extremely different perspectives on money, which significantly impacted their individual and collective spending and saving habits. Growing up, I found daunting the process of synthesizing the perspectives of my parents, my school, society, and my own to establish solid money habits that lead to sustainable living and wealth. To be completely transparent, I still find this process overwhelming and sometimes disheartening, especially in a world in which living wages are not rising at the same rate as costs of goods and services are rising. However, along my life’s journey, I have acquired and continue to acquire tools to help me move closer toward financial freedom and economic security. I have wise friends who exemplify sensible spending and saving habits. Also, my siblings continue to be exemplary individuals who implement mindful financial planning. Additionally, along my academic journey, I have taken undergraduate and graduate courses that have provided tools for maintaining healthy personal and professional finance practices. I would love to say that I have always been disciplined with my money. However, admittedly, I have not. Sometimes, life presents extra challenges (e.g., family deaths, depression, CPTSD, volatile income, etc.) that elicit mental and emotional hardships and add complex layers to already complicated circumstances. However, with the help of the beautifully selfless people who unconditionally choose to do life with me, I do not reside in the valley moments of my life for too long. Because of them, I can hold on to a sense of hope for the future. My future includes expanding my scope as a contemporary commercial music (CCM) voice specialist, obtaining a rewarding position as a tenure-track university voice professor, and enriching my music artistry. Investing in my mental health has been an invaluable asset. Furthermore, investing in my education is a privilege I do not take for granted. For these, my gratitude knows no bounds. However, the cost of higher education, in addition to the costs of basic needs, continues to rise; and that is scary, especially considering recent federal changes to financial aid access. During this upcoming last year of my Doctor of Musical Arts degree program in CCM vocal pedagogy, I plan to begin applying for assistant professorships in my field. The income from this full-time position will enable me to begin paying down my Direct loan and Grad PLUS loan debt. Also, I will use income from vocal masterclasses, workshops, performance gigs, and published original music to aid in decreasing my student loan debt. To help me remain intentional and purposeful, I will create an exact yet flexible budget and timeline; these components are practical tools that will assist in achieving my financial goals. For several reasons, pursuing an academic degree in the U.S. can be frustratingly expensive. For many, including myself, this includes utilizing student loans. However, I do believe that investing in my academic journey will yield worthwhile opportunities that will lessen the monetary burden weighing heavy on me. This, in turn, will allow me to continue providing my current and future artist-students a safe environment to healthily, creatively explore and express their unique artistry.

I am a devoted member of Generation Y (also known as the Millennial Generation) who graduated from a small, rural high school in 2008. A few years ago, while cleaning out my room, I found my yearbook (that poor yearbook had been through some things!). In this yearbook, I found the section which posed the following question: “Where do you see yourself being in the next 10 years?” High school senior Josh ended up seeing himself as a music teacher, which was surprising to see because of previous negative experiences with a former piano teacher. I am a classically trained pianist, but before I began piano lessons at the age of 5, I started playing non-classical music by ear. I remember sitting by my stereo and waiting for my favorite ‘90s hits to play so I can record them on my cassette tapes and listen to them to transcribe the melodies and reharmonize them on my little Casio keyboard I was given one Christmas. To be honest, I despised piano lessons when I was younger because of one former piano teacher who relentlessly attempted to turn me into the pianist that she wanted me to be. As a ‘90s kid, I primarily listened to R&B, pop, hip-hop, rock, and gospel, styles that continue to influence my uniquely lush, harmony-focused R&B/pop style to this day. This specific piano teacher wanted me to be a classical and gospel pianist only, which meant to abandon what I wanted to pursue artistically and stylistically. Also, I was not a fan of her using a yardstick as a discipline tactic to correct students' playing. I begged my parents to allow me to discontinue piano lessons with her. Instead, at age 13, I fell into a deep depression and quit playing piano for two whole years. After that hiatus, I reconnected with my elementary school teacher. She was not only an outstanding keyboardist, but she was also a second mom to me. She was the first music teacher that did not try to force me into a figurative artistic box and helped me to shape my musicianship and my own sound. In college, my voice teacher (a fellow baritone) helped me to acknowledge and build on my musical strengths and explore facets of my voice I had not yet known. In my doctoral program, my voice instructor, a jazz artist based in Washington, D.C., guided me back to embracing my roots while strengthening parts of my voice I had abandoned in order to try to fit into certain systemic ideals that are still incredibly prevalent in music academia today. She helped me to see the worth in what I offer to the creative community and to the world, and for that, I am eternally grateful. As I continue my doctoral journey, which, I hope, leads to a tenure-track university professorship, I desire to meet students exactly where they are. I want to meet them where they are to show them that who they are and what they do are more than enough: they are necessary. I want to reinforce a safe, collaborative environment in which they can freely explore and discover their artistic voices with confidence and without the fear of cruel judgment. I want to model the positive influence and speak life into aspiring artists as my mentors exemplified for me. It only takes one person to make a significant difference in someone else’s life, and I am honored to follow a path that provides meaningful, purposeful opportunities to help others fly.