Hope in The Face Of Rejection

Still going in the face of rejection

Photo by Michael Maasen on Unsplash

The other week, I tried out for a solo in the choir I’m in. I learned the line on piano so I could practice, and I put time aside to focus on it every day. My hands and voice started to sound like I wanted it to. It was high, but with the work I had been doing, I knew I could do it, or hoped I could at least.

It was our first in-person audition, and the first time anyone in the choir had heard me sing in my higher register. For anyone not sitting near me before, it was the first time they had heard me sing at all. I’ve had solos in the past. speaking roles or throwaway lines in a comedy song.

Comedy songs are my safe place. If the audience laughs—great! They were supposed to. This audition, on the other hand, was tender, loving, high, and most of all, honest and raw. It was the last line that hangs in the air after the chaos has subsided. And as much as I didn’t want to admit it to myself or anyone around me, I wanted it. If I played it off as no big deal, the high chance of rejection wouldn’t sting as badly. If I didn’t admit—even to myself—how much I wanted it, it couldn’t hurt as much.

So after all this buildup, all that work and hidden passion… did I get the solo?

No.

Am I devastated and never going to sing again?

Also no.

If this had happened even a year ago, though, that answer would be different. The answer I would have given you, three hours into a binge while I debated leaving choir forever, would have been a resounding… sob.

So what’s changed? I still take small things as major rejection, so why is this situation different?

Pride. I am proud of myself. That’s the difference.

Instead of gauging my success on whether I got the solo, I gauged it by whether I tried. Did I practice? Yes. Did I stand in front of 43 of the best singers I’ve met? Yes. That was my goal: to do the thing, try my best, and let the solos land where they may.

What I also learned from this is not to look at the solo list only for what you auditioned for. Despite not getting a solo, I did get a small part in one of my favourite songs in the show—some haunting “oos” with three other lovely people. I found that out during rehearsal for that song. Just because the door closes on one opportunity doesn’t mean you’re locked in a windowless room.

Whether you are expressing yourself through written words, music, or art, don’t let a “no” smother your voice. Use it as guidance to find where you fit. There is a home and a spot for you to share your art. And even if that means you have to create your own space to share it. never stop trying.

Let your voice hang in the rafters as silence fills the air. Let the audience forget to clap. Leave them in their own silence as your voice settles in the creaks of their soul.

Your voice is worthy of hearing. Even if all that comes out of your vulnerability is rejection, your story is worthy of expression. The scary thing is worth trying. Your life is worth living, unapologetically you.

Don’t let fear stop you from living a life worth trying for. Anything in this world worth doing is worth the hot sting of rejection.