HODEL
Singing was a form of escapism for me, and writing was a form of processing. There wasjoy in it, but it mainly was survival (and it still is). My voice was recognized as pure talentnot only by my mother but also by my teachers. A friend of my mother’s was my musicteacher, and she was exceptional. As a child I was in a few school plays, and I would singfor friends at random¹ events. Singing onstage (or anywhere), imagining I was someoneelse, was when I felt most like myself. Walking around alone and coming up withmelodies while singing to myself was when I felt the most whole. To this day, I escape tomy private vocal² booth to shut out all the demands of life and feel myself in my space,singing alone.
I was in the fifth grade when I first got the opportunity to attend an exclusiveperforming arts summer camp. This was a breakthrough! I could finally be around otheryoung aspiring³ artists and hone my craft, undistracted by the confusion and chaos⁴ at home.
I landed the role of Hodel, one of the five daughters in the camp’s production of Fiddleron the Roof. I lived to go to rehearsals⁵. It was my favorite time and place. I was confident,quickly learning the songs and studying their meanings. The act of practicing camenaturally to me; I liked to do things over and over again. I loved the experience ofwitnessing my performance getting better with each try, finding new and better ways todeliver a song.
The drive to practice music was also something my mother recognized and encouragedin me early on. She rehearsed the Fiddler songs with me at home, playing along on herYamaha piano. Even as a little girl I was interested in exploring the details that made up agreat song. And I was fascinated by the storytelling in the musical. I even managed tomake a “camp friend” in the community of largely Jewish and mostly wealthy kids. Webonded through our love and seriousness of singing. We even kinda looked alike. She wasIsraeli with thick curly, almost kinky hair. So we both had tangled⁶ textures

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