I felt the tears welling up in my eyes as I sat there, feeling utterly defeated in front of my father. We were halfway through the scheduled nightly midnight prayers when he confronted me and said: “You need to know how to pray in tongues,” But he had forgotten that I had a Roman Catholic mother who taught me that “spiritual gibberish” was a sin. I was 10 years old when the conflict of faith in my blended family became one of the many burdens that I was tired of bearing. As the first-born daughter in an African household, my commitment to a church was always under immense scrutiny. I stood as the first indicator of my parents’ success and as one of the first role models, my siblings would have. When my parents were divorced their expectations of me were both doubled and divided. My life was a contrast between going from kneeling quietly in straight and rigid pews to shouting out praises in a hall while chairs were kicked out of their rows by “spirit-filled” congregants. When my father was ordained as a pastor of a Charismatic Church in the same year that my mother became a minister of the Eucharist in the Catholic Church, I knew that the paradox that was my spiritual life would only become more agonising. The pressure to be a “good example” had expanded from my already divided household into an entire two congregations. The blatant contradictions that presented themselves from the two most influential people in my life made me question the legitimacy of my faith. If there is one God, shouldn’t there be one true church? Throughout my school career, I searched for ways to answer this question. When I began playing the piano at age 11, I appreciated the simplicity of plagal cadences in hymns which were enjoyed in the Catholic Church. This made me believe that my heart was with my mother’s faith. Inevitably, my passion for music grew and I discovered more complex rhythms when I picked up the drums the following year. I enjoyed the loud and vigorous nature of playing African beats while I led our school’s marimba band at the Education Africa International Marimba Festival. My newfound love convinced me that I was meant to be a member of my father’s Charismatic Church. In high school, I joined public speaking and debate which taught me about the importance of evidence-based arguments and experience that the almost 2000-year-old Catholic Church had. However, my more liberal beliefs would be better accommodated in the Charismatic Church. In 2017, my opinions on the Charismatic Church were ruined by the notorious Prophet Bushiri who took advantage of desperate believers and scammed them out of millions. In the same year, I had the privilege of travelling to France on the Travel and Sport Academic Achievers Tour and I was appalled that Notre Dame, which is a Catholic Cathedral, was open to tourists during what was supposed to be a sacred church service. For the first time, the notion that there was one perfect denomination seemed completely ridiculous. Not only are there over 45 000 Christian denominations globally, but I had always known that true faith was an issue of the heart and what impact your beliefs make. Being raised in such a polarizing environment made me understand that I cannot search for acceptance by doing what I feel will please people because everything in life boils down to your intention and impact. As a musician, the message I create is important. It makes an impact that reflects my heart's intentions.

“How are you going to pay for it?” My mother asked me after I told her that I got into my dream school: Berklee College of Music. I was deflated by her question but it was important and necessary. I checked my financial aid notice and I had received zero scholarships. This was January 2022, I had a tuition deposit due in April, and I had no idea how I was going to get the money. I had 4 months to consider what my options would be and as an international student, taking out loans would be a recipe for a lifetime of student loan debt. So I had to do research and to my dismay finding a way to fund your education without loans is not the easiest information to find. My musical talent came to my rescue as I reached over half a million people across my social media platforms by turning my financial dilemma into songs and videos. I realized that I had to figure this out on my own and I was determined. After curating funding proposals, I reached out to every one of my local arts councils and businesses. Every day was dedicated to searching for scholarships, making a new video, and reaching out to as many people as I could. During this process, I came to know the statistics of student loan debt in America and I was appaled. I could not believe how many students did not have access to information about securing scholarships and finding more affordable ways to fund their education. I wanted my efforts and my story to be an inspiration to others and to be an example of how to get a debt-free education. I worked hard and applied to at least 10 scholarship opportunities a day. Unfortunately, I couldn't get enough money and had to withdraw my application. Luckily, I refuse to be defeated. I spent 2022 refining my craft. I had voice lessons, played on every stage I could find and earned a spot in an arts training program. I continued to grow my online community and do research on businesses that were able to support students pursuing higher education. Creativity continued to flow through me in this time of development, I connected with many influential people and I composed multiple original works. Despite all the discouragement around me, I auditioned again at Berklee and attached all my new achievements, letters of recommendation and compositions to my application. When I opened my admission decision in October of 2022, I did not expect much but I knew that I had very worked hard. I was ecstatic to find out that I received a full-tuition scholarship! Even though it does not cover the entire cost of attending Berklee, I know that my dream can come true now! I want the same to happen for all other students applying to college. There needs to be more accessible information on how to set yourself up to have better chances of securing funding, word-study opportunities and merit-based scholarships so that fewer young people find themselves with overwhelming student debt. My story and all that I have learnt in the past year would come to address student loan debt in a way that is relatable and inspirational. I've learnt that to achieve anything you have to connect with the people around you. You have to have community. It was through community that I received the opportunities to grow that I did in the past year. Student loan debt can be a thing of the past if more young people connected with their communities.

“How are you going to pay for it?” My mother asked me after I told her that I got into my dream school: Berklee College of Music. I was deflated by her question but it was important and necessary. I checked my financial aid notice and I had received zero scholarships. This was January 2022, I had a tuition deposit due in April, and I had no idea how I was going to get the money. I had 4 months to consider what my options would be and as an international student, taking out loans would be a recipe for a lifetime of student loan debt. So I had to do research and to my dismay finding a way to fund your education without loans is not the easiest information to find. My musical talent came to my rescue as I reached over half a million people across my social media platforms by turning my financial dilemma into songs and videos. I realized that I had to figure this out on my own and I was determined. After curating funding proposals, I reached out to every one of my local arts councils and businesses. Every day was dedicated to searching for scholarships, making a new video, and reaching out to as many people as I could. During this process, I came to know the statistics of student loan debt in America and I was appaled. I could not believe how many students did not have access to information about securing scholarships and finding more affordable ways to fund their education. I wanted my efforts and my story to be an inspiration to others and to be an example of how to get a debt-free education. I worked hard and applied to at least 10 scholarship opportunities a day. Unfortunately, I couldn't get enough money and had to withdraw my application. Luckily, I refuse to be defeated. I spent 2022 refining my craft. I had voice lessons, played on every stage I could find and earned a spot in an arts training program. I continued to grow my online community and do research on businesses that were able to support students pursuing higher education. Creativity continued to flow through me in this time of development, I connected with many influential people and I composed multiple original works. Despite all the discouragement around me, I auditioned again at Berklee and attached all my new achievements, letters of recommendation and compositions to my application. When I opened my admission decision in October of 2022, I did not expect much but I knew that I had very worked hard. I was ecstatic to find out that I received a full-tuition scholarship! Even though it does not cover the entire cost of attending Berklee, I know that my dream can come true now! I want the same to happen for all other students applying to college. There needs to be more accessible information on how to set yourself up to have better chances of securing funding, word-study opportunities and merit-based scholarships so that fewer young people find themselves with overwhelming student debt. My story and all that I have learnt in the past year would come to address student loan debt in a way that is relatable and inspirational. Receiving higher education should not bring a financial strain on anyone's life.

There is only so much a person can say with words. Sometimes what you mean is not what people seem to understand. Writing is a perfectly flawed art - left to the mercy of interpretation. It gives us the space to imagine and dream while having the power to restrict and confine. Writing allows thoughts to be immortal and historical events to freeze in time. So when I hold my pen over the pages of my journal, I understand the beauty and power that writing holds. I remember learning to read. I remember confusing a's with q's and constantly being scolded for my horrible handwriting (which has still not improved) by my second-grade teacher. I can never forget the wave of joy I felt as I sounded out my first spelling word. "kuh - ah - tuh... cat!" I would say enthusiastically. "Yes, my baby!" My mother allows knew how to encourage me in my education. The warmth of my favourite reading corner in our school library is a feeling I will never forget. I would imagine myself in the darkness, hiding beside Anne Frank who was only a few years older than me when she witnessed and experienced the tragedies of the second world war. Mischief and trouble became a fantasy for me as I saw myself encountering misadventures with Greg Heffley in 'Diary of a Wimpy Kid'. As I've grown into my early adulthood, I'm able to see how reading and writing expand the mind and help us reflect on the state of our societies. I've also grown to understand that words have true influence and when in writing they hold a new level of authority. I was raised Christian and witnessed the unfortunate truth of how the written word can be used to manipulate those who are vulnerable. I've experienced the presence of God in many different ways in my life. Ways that haven't been limited to the written Word of the Bible. Unfortunately, I've come to learn that humans crave something tangible to believe in. The idea of an omnipresent and omniscient God does not satiate human nature. This causes many to take the written word as if it was God itself. Taken out of context and used to destroy and restrict the lives of many people. Yet, I've seen the same Word give hopeless people a new reason to live. There is only so much a person can say with words, so I know that every single one that I write matters. With every poem, I can break and build. With every lyric, I give my listeners whatever story they crave to hear. With every essay, I pour out my heart with my story in the hopes that what I mean is what they'll understand. Writing reveals the imperfect nature of the world we live in - we have choice and freedom which are both a blessing and a curse. This is what I live for. This is what we all live for - the space to interpret, translate and communicate in a way that brings us peace. Writing is my peace.

When I look down at the brown skin on my forearms, I see imperfections. I see the evidence of darkness that once consumed my whole life. I see a struggle that once was a secret. I see light, perfectly aligned, raised rows of scar tissue. Self-inflicted but healed. It's been almost two years since I last found myself feeling so numb that I had to overload my senses with the shock of a sharpened blade against my skin. I used to look at these scars and feel shame. I used to wear long-sleeved tops so that I would avoid stares and questions. Now I find myself speaking about it freely, understanding that my story can save another person's life. To me, recovery means that I can breathe steadily while someone asks me about my scars. It means I can smile while speaking about how far I've come. It means finding peace and healing so that your coping mechanisms are no longer harmful. Recovery is a journey filled with love and acceptance.

Without warning, she left us. She was only thirty-one. She was a mother of one and was on her way to becoming a mother of two before her life ended at the hands of the man who swore to protect her. She let out her last breath knowing that the father of her children and her dear husband was responsible for the pain we were all left to experience. "Every six hours a woman is killed by her intimate partner." Devastated is an understatement to explain how I felt when I got the news that my cousin, Zola, had passed away. The grief began to settle in when I read her obituary - only 12 sentences long. The pain grew into anger as the funeral ceremony went on and people finally began to speak up about seeing the signs that she was being abused. I could not believe that so many people saw the signs and she still died. We could have prevented this. She didn't have to go. To deal with this loss I began to write music. I wrote songs about Zola. I wrote songs about the agony of laying a young woman to rest before her time. Then I wrote about the violence that plagues our communities. I realized that music has a unique way of relaying a message impactfully. Melodies and rhythms sit in the gaps between the lines that words create. Music touches your heart even when you don't know the lyrics. So As I wrote yet another tune and devised more chord patterns, I could see Zola’s story unfolding so beautifully like a well-written novel. I imagined what her thoughts could have been the day she last lived: 'It follows me. The night that I gave you my dreams. It talks to me. Saying: why did you just do it? Give in, give up. nothing's worth fighting for You did your best, Played your luck. Now the worst fate is tearing down your door’. I sang these words as I strummed my guitar and thought of Zola. "The world needs to know," is what I thought as I wrote down lyric after lyric, "they need to know not to keep quiet. The world needs to know not to ignore the signs." Art starts social reform. I believe music is the key to awareness and revolutions. That is why I know that as I pursue a career in music my voice will be used to remind everyone that we need to speak up. I want to give a voice to those who feel stuck because once you feel heard, you feel empowered to leave dangerous and abusive situations. Once people feel seen and understood, they cannot be afraid to stand up for those who are at risk of becoming victims of preventable circumstances. When people are held accountable for their actions, abusers will not be able to continue hurting our loved ones. When healing is brought through songs, people will be able to look within themselves before they hurt anyone else.

There is no freedom without resistance. To come to my own, I had to let go of what I’ve always lived for– the approval of others. I am my parents’ first-born daughter; the first indication of their success as parents. I had always been a hard worker and school came easy to me. The expectations that follow a promising, young, and educated black lady in South Africa never seemed to end. There was no space for creativity in the rigid standards that were placed on me from birth. It was these standards that made me feel stuck between a rock and hard place during my first year of university. “First year is always difficult and lonely. You’ll get the hang of it,” my mother would say whenever I tried to express my concerns about how I was feeling. I was not happy with what I was studying. Everything felt dull and colourless and that was not how I wanted to start my journey towards my career. My heart had always wanted to sing, write, and play but creativity was never allowed to thrive in the life that had been paved for me. But what if this wasn’t the life that I wanted? I was afraid of that question because it meant I had to swim against the current. It meant that I had to be stubborn. It meant that I had to resist. There is no freedom without resistance. The idea of standing up for myself made me feel overwhelmed. So, I did what made me feel most like myself: I picked up my guitar and let the melodies take over. Music speaks to me and through me. Each lyric, each note and each chord are a piece of my soul, and the rhythms reflect my heartbeat. It wasn’t long before that session with my guitar turned into three unique compositions. Three songs I attached to my application to Berklee College of music. Three songs gave me the courage to drop out of the South African university I had been attending. Inevitably, my decision came with a lot of backlashes. “I thought you were smarter than this!” “A waste of intelligence.” “But what will your real job be?” For the first time in my life, I had to rebel against my desire to be praised by those around me. I wanted true freedom and as I’ve learnt there is no freedom without resistance. After receiving my acceptance letter from the world’s leading contemporary music school, I thought the battle had been over. Unfortunately, I received only a 25% scholarship, so if I wanted to become the creative songstress I always wanted to be, I had to work and forget what everyone else thought of me. To my advantage, being a hard worker is a quality of mine that has never changed and with 7 months left until I leave for the United States, I have raised another 20% of what I need to achieve my dream. Nothing good comes without true toil. I know now I can do anything once I let go of other people’s expectations and do it only for me. I have resisted and therefore, I will be free.

As a world, we have languages that help us to communicate with each other. Every language has its words, the pronunciation of those words, and the contextual meanings attached to them. You must understand how these three concepts interlink to express yourself fluently and meaningfully in any language. Music, as a universal form of communication, has proven to supersede all these language rules. As much as we can try to break down chords, and music theory and have debates on the power of expertly devised arrangements, it is difficult to explain why every human being can be touched by a song. My parents always told me that I learned to sing before I could even speak. The first song I remember being moved by was 'Autumn leaves' by Eva Cassidy. I was too young to understand what it meant to lose a loved one but I knew that the ringing sound of those guitar strings blended with the richness of the vocals made me imagine what life would be like if I were all alone. This deeply rooted and inexplicable effect of the melodies that help us express the non-verbal sensations experienced by all people, is the reason that the world will always need music. I needed a new way to communicate when I was 10 years old, dealing with my parent’s separation and the death of my grandfather. I had never had a single music lesson in my life but when I placed my fingers on my dad’s old keyboard, my first original song came to be. I knew that certain chords made me feel sad while others lifted my spirits. I knew that unfinished melodies felt like stories left without an ending. Without words, I knew how to speak. Music became my new language. At the age of 11, I could feel my frustrations vibrate in the air as I beat my first djembe drum. I understood the need for pain and sacrifice in life when I saw the lines indented in my fingers after I played a steel-stringed guitar for the first time at the age of 13. In that same year, the community I found in my school’s marimba band brought me the comfort I had never gotten at home. Before I realised it, music was all I knew. It was not long before my family became concerned with what they called my “obsession”. “You’re too intelligent to be an artist!” “But what will be your real job?” “You can always do music as a hobby.” I felt misunderstood by them. They did not see that this was the only way I knew to express myself. I felt selfish for wanting to choose music as a career until I found myself volunteering at the Dasha foundation, a school for mentally and physically disadvantaged children, during my final year of high school. Interacting with young humans who were unable to communicate with words, was what reminded me of why the world needs music. One student stood out to me, his name was Solumuzi and he was autistic. He struggled to read social cues and was unable to participate in verbal communication, but when it came to singing, he hit every note without hesitation. In every way that he was disabled physically and mentally, he was enabled to do in our music sessions. That is why I never gave up on my dream to pursue an education in music. We all deserve a chance to speak in a language that we understand and feel understood using. I want to be able to give that to people.

As a world, we have languages that help us to communicate with each other. Every language has its words, the pronunciation of those words, and the contextual meanings attached to them. You must understand how these three concepts interlink to express yourself fluently and meaningfully in any language. Music, as a universal form of communication, has proven to supersede all these language rules. As much as we can try to break down chords, and music theory and have debates on the power of expertly devised arrangements, it is difficult to explain why every human being can be touched by a song. My parents always told me that I learned to sing before I could even speak. The first songs I knew the lyrics to, were gospel songs. Even though I had no true understanding of religion or what it meant to believe in God, I knew that those songs made me feel connected to something bigger than myself. I knew that Cece Winans’ ‘Jesus, you’re beautiful’ reminded me of home and comfort. This deeply rooted and inexplicable effect of the melodies that help us express the non-verbal sensations experienced by all people, is the reason that the world will always need music. I needed a new way to communicate when I was 10 years old, dealing with my parent’s separation and the death of my grandfather. I had never had a single music lesson in my life but when I placed my fingers on my dad’s old keyboard, my first original song came to be. I knew that certain chords made me feel sad while others lifted my spirits. I knew that unfinished melodies felt like stories left without an ending. Without words, I knew how to speak. Music became my new language. At the age of 11, I could feel my frustrations vibrate in the air as I beat my first djembe drum. I understood the need for pain and sacrifice in life when I saw the lines indented in my fingers after I played a steel-stringed guitar for the first time at the age of 13. In that same year, the community I found in my school’s marimba band brought me the comfort I had never gotten at home. Before I realised it, music was all I knew. It was not long before my family became concerned with what they called my “obsession”. “You’re too intelligent to be an artist!” “But what will be your real job?” “You can always do music as a hobby.” I felt misunderstood by them. They did not see that this was the only way I knew to express myself. I felt selfish for wanting to choose music as a career until I found myself volunteering at the Dasha foundation, a school for mentally and physically disadvantaged children, during my final year of high school. Interacting with young humans who were unable to communicate with words, was what reminded me of why the world needs music. One student stood out to me, his name was Solumuzi and he was autistic. He struggled to read social cues and was unable to participate in verbal communication, but when it came to singing, he hit every note without hesitation. In every way that he was disabled physically and mentally, he was enabled to do in our music sessions. That is why I never gave up on my dream to pursue an education in music. We all deserve a chance to speak in a language that we understand and feel understood using. I want to be able to give that to people.

As a world, we have languages that help us to communicate with each other. Every language has its words, the pronunciation of those words, and the contextual meanings attached to them. You must understand how these three concepts interlink to express yourself fluently and meaningfully in any language. Music, as a universal form of communication, has proven to supersede all these language rules. As much as we can try to break down chords, and music theory and have debates on the power of expertly devised arrangements, it is difficult to explain why every human being can be touched by a song. My parents always told me that I learned to sing before I could even speak. The first songs I knew the lyrics to, were gospel songs. Even though I had no true understanding of religion or what it meant to believe in God, I knew that those songs made me feel connected to something bigger than myself. I knew that Cece Winans’ ‘Jesus, you’re beautiful’ reminded me of home and comfort. This deeply rooted and inexplicable effect of the melodies that help us express the non-verbal sensations experienced by all people, is the reason that the world will always need music. I needed a new way to communicate when I was 10 years old, dealing with my parent’s separation and the death of my grandfather. I had never had a single music lesson in my life but when I placed my fingers on my dad’s old keyboard, my first original song came to be. I knew that certain chords made me feel sad while others lifted my spirits. I knew that unfinished melodies felt like stories left without an ending. Without words, I knew how to speak. Music became my new language. At the age of 11, I could feel my frustrations vibrate in the air as I beat my first djembe drum. I understood the need for pain and sacrifice in life when I saw the lines indented in my fingers after I played a steel-stringed guitar for the first time at the age of 13. In that same year, the community I found in my school’s marimba band brought me the comfort I had never gotten at home. Before I realised it, music was all I knew. It was not long before my family became concerned with what they called my “obsession”. “You’re too intelligent to be an artist!” “But what will be your real job?” “You can always do music as a hobby.” I felt misunderstood by them. They did not see that this was the only way I knew to express myself. I felt selfish for wanting to choose music as a career until I found myself volunteering at the Dasha foundation, a school for mentally and physically disadvantaged children, during my final year of high school. Interacting with young humans who were unable to communicate with words, was what reminded me of why the world needs music. One student stood out to me, his name was Solumuzi and he was autistic. He struggled to read social cues and was unable to participate in verbal communication, but when it came to singing, he hit every note without hesitation. In every way that he was disabled physically and mentally, he was enabled to do in our music sessions. That is why I never gave up on my dream to pursue an education in music. We all deserve a chance to speak in a language that we understand and feel understood using. I want to be able to give that to people.

There is no freedom without resistance. Resisting hasn't always come naturally to me. To come to my own, I had to let go of what I’ve always lived for– the approval of others. I am my parents’ first-born daughter; the first indication of their success as parents. I had always been a hard worker and school came easy to me. The expectations that follow a promising, young, and educated black woman never seemed to end. There was no space for creativity in the rigid standards that were placed on me from birth. It was these standards that made me feel stuck between a rock and hard place during my first year of university. “First year is always difficult and lonely. You’ll get the hang of it,” my mother would say whenever I tried to express my concerns about how I was feeling. I was not happy with what I was studying. Everything felt dull and colourless and that was not how I wanted to start my journey towards my career. My heart had always wanted to sing, write, and play but creativity was never allowed to thrive in the life that had been paved for me. But what if this wasn’t the life that I wanted? I was afraid of that question because it meant I had to swim against the current. It meant that I had to be stubborn. It meant that I had to resist. There is no freedom without resistance. The idea of standing up for myself made me feel overwhelmed. So, I did what made me feel most like myself: I picked up my guitar and let the melodies take over. Music speaks to me and through me. Each lyric, each note and each chord are a piece of my soul, and the rhythms reflect my heartbeat. It wasn’t long before that session with my guitar turned into three unique compositions. Three songs I attached to my application to Berklee College of music. Three songs gave me the courage to drop out of the university I had been attending. Inevitably, my decision came with a lot of backlash. “I thought you were smarter than this!” “A waste of intelligence.” “But what will your real job be?” For the first time in my life, I had to rebel against my desire to be praised by those around me. I wanted true freedom and as I’ve learnt there is no freedom without resistance. After receiving my acceptance letter from the world’s leading contemporary music school, I thought the battle had been over. Unfortunately, I received only a 25% scholarship, so if I wanted to become the creative songstress I always wanted to be, I had to work and forget what everyone else thought of me. To my advantage, being a hard worker is a quality of mine that has never changed and with 7 months left until I leave for Boston, I have raised another 20% of what I need to achieve my dream. Nothing good comes without true toil. I know now I can do anything once I let go of other people’s expectations and do it only for me. I am proud that I have learned to fight for myself. I have resisted and therefore, I will be free.

As a world, we have languages that help us to communicate with each other. Every language has its words, the pronunciation of those words, and the contextual meanings attached to them. You must understand how these three concepts interlink to express yourself fluently and meaningfully in any language. Music, as a universal form of communication, has proven to supersede all these language rules. As much as we can try to break down chords, and music theory and have debates on the power of expertly devised arrangements, it is difficult to explain why every human being can be touched by a song. My parents always told me that I learned to sing before I could even speak. The first songs I knew the lyrics to, were gospel songs. Even though I had no true understanding of religion or what it meant to believe in God, I knew that those songs made me feel connected to something bigger than myself. I knew that Cece Winans’ ‘Jesus, you’re beautiful’ reminded me of home and comfort. This deeply rooted and inexplicable effect of the melodies that help us express the non-verbal sensations experienced by all people, is the reason that the world will always need music. I needed a new way to communicate when I was 10 years old, dealing with my parent’s separation and the death of my grandfather. I had never had a single music lesson in my life but when I placed my fingers on my dad’s old keyboard, my first original song came to be. I knew that certain chords made me feel sad while others lifted my spirits. I knew that unfinished melodies felt like stories left without an ending. Without words, I knew how to speak. Music became my new language. At the age of 11, I could feel my frustrations vibrate in the air as I beat my first djembe drum. I understood the need for pain and sacrifice in life when I saw the lines indented in my fingers after I played a steel-stringed guitar for the first time at the age of 13. In that same year, the community I found in my school’s marimba band brought me the comfort I had never gotten at home. Before I realised it, music was all I knew. It was not long before my family became concerned with what they called my “obsession”. “You’re too intelligent to be an artist!” “But what will be your real job?” “You can always do music as a hobby.” I felt misunderstood by them. They did not see that this was the only way I knew to express myself. I felt selfish for wanting to choose music as a career until I found myself volunteering at the Dasha foundation, a school for mentally and physically disadvantaged children, during my final year of high school. Interacting with young humans who were unable to communicate with words, was what reminded me of why the world needs music. One student stood out to me, his name was Solumuzi and he was autistic. He struggled to read social cues and was unable to participate in verbal communication, but when it came to singing, he hit every note without hesitation. In every way that he was disabled physically and mentally, he was enabled to do in our music sessions. That is why I never gave up on my dream to pursue an education in music. We all deserve a chance to speak in a language that we understand and feel understood using. I want to be able to give that to people.

There is no freedom without resistance. To come to my own, I had to let go of what I’ve always lived for– the approval of others. I am my parents’ first-born daughter; the first indication of their success as parents. I had always been a hard worker and school came easy to me. The expectations that follow a promising, young, and educated black lady never seemed to end. There was no space for creativity in the rigid standards that were placed on me from birth. It was these standards that made me feel stuck between a rock and hard place during my first year of university. “First year is always difficult and lonely. You’ll get the hang of it,” my mother would say whenever I tried to express my concerns about how I was feeling. I was not happy with what I was studying. Everything felt dull and colourless and that was not how I wanted to start my journey towards my career. My heart had always wanted to sing, write, and play but creativity was never allowed to thrive in the life that had been paved for me. But what if this wasn’t the life that I wanted? I was afraid of that question because it meant I had to swim against the current. It meant that I had to be stubborn. It meant that I had to resist. There is no freedom without resistance. The idea of standing up for myself made me feel overwhelmed. So, I did what made me feel most like myself: I picked up my guitar and let the melodies take over. Music speaks to me and through me. Each lyric, each note and each chord are a piece of my soul, and the rhythms reflect my heartbeat. It wasn’t long before that session with my guitar turned into three unique compositions. The three songs I attached to my application to Berklee College of music. The three songs gave me the courage to drop out of the university I had been attending. Inevitably, my decision came with a lot of backlashes. “I thought you were smarter than this!” “A waste of intelligence.” “But what will your real job be?” For the first time in my life, I had to rebel against my desire to be praised by those around me. I wanted true freedom and as I’ve learnt there is no freedom without resistance. After receiving my acceptance letter from the world’s leading contemporary music school, I thought the battle had been over. Unfortunately, I received only a 25% scholarship, so if I wanted to become the creative songstress I have always wanted to be, I had to work and forget what everyone else thought of me. To my advantage, being a hard worker is a quality of mine that has never changed and with 7 months left until I leave for Berklee College of music, I have raised another 20% of what I need to achieve my dream. Nothing good comes without true toil. I know now that I can do anything once I let go of other people’s expectations and do it only for me. I have resisted and therefore, I will be free.