For many performers, the voice can feel like a mystery. You practice the techniques, you know the music, but a persistent block, chronic tension, or crippling stage fright holds you back from your true potential. What if the root of that struggle isn’t in your technique, but in your history?

The body keeps a score of our experiences, and for a singer, whose very instrument is their body, the impact of past trauma can be profound. Unresolved trauma can manifest as physical “body armoring,” a deep sense of being unsafe on stage, and a destructive inner critic.

To explore this powerful connection, Therapevo’s Caleb Simonyi-Gindele sat down with our colleague Ron de Jager. Ron lives at the unique intersection of world-class performance and clinical counselling. As a Doctor of Musical Arts, an accomplished vocalist, and a specialist therapist, he offers a unique and compassionate perspective on what it takes to heal the instrument and set your voice free.

https://youtu.be/h67KrGHF7hg

Here is a polished transcript of their conversation.

Why is a singer’s experience of trauma so profoundly different?

Caleb: For our listeners, can you start by explaining one of the powerful statements from your research: “A singer’s body is his or her instrument.” Why does that make a singer’s experience of trauma so profoundly different?

Ron: I started as a pianist, so my instrument was here in front of me. It was me and the instrument, and the audience was there. Then all of a sudden, you take that away and it’s just me. That becomes a much more vulnerable situation.

When you’re vulnerable, more things will start to show up. We might be a little bit naive in thinking that we’ve got it masked and covered very well, but sometimes the audience is pretty perceptive. No matter our best job at covering it, our body will still show certain things. As a singing teacher, I started to become aware of those things, like, “Where is that showing up, why is it showing up, and what is it indicative of?” It’s a symptom of something rather than just being the problem.

Just something like getting nervous—if you get a little nervous when you’re speaking, the voice can start to quiver, you don’t get enough breath underneath it, and all of a sudden you squeak and crack. That body stuff might show up more for singers than other kinds of musicians because it’s just you and your voice out there.

How can past trauma manifest in a singer’s performance?

Caleb: You’ve said that trauma affects the entire organism—physical, mental, social, and spiritual. Can you give us an example of how a past trauma, like childhood sexual abuse, might manifest in a singer’s voice or performance in a way that most of us would probably not even recognize?

Ron: For sure. Especially if it’s undealt with, it can show up physically in different ways. Some things that I’ve noticed with singers is locking through the lower abdominal areas, through the solar plexus, and right into the pelvis. It can be in the knees and the buttocks as well. All those areas will just lock and get tense. It can be jaw or tongue tension as well. You can see it sometimes if the individual is really trying to get sound out without releasing; you can see trembling in the lower abdominal area.

Jaw tension is often a position of “we’re not going to let anybody in.” In a place where you’re trying to express very openly and freely, when you’re not letting people in, people can see something’s going on there. If the tongue is really tense, it will pull the larynx high, which means you’re going to have to work extra hard. Imagine if we’ve got tension here, and here, and we’re trying to make a free sound—how much that’s going to hold the singer back, not just in their sound, but in their storytelling. You’re working against all these roadblocks.

How can singing be both healing and re-traumatizing?

Caleb: Many people see singing as a joyful and expressive act. How does unresolved trauma create a paradox where the very act of singing can be both a source of potential healing and, simultaneously, a source of re-traumatization?

Ron: Music is such an amazing healer, and we can never underestimate that. From a singer’s standpoint, the fact that we have to inhale from a really deep place and then release breath—that breathing itself is cathartic. But then feeling that all of a sudden we can make sounds, that we actually have a voice and that voice matters.

Often with abuse, the voice is squelched, physically or psychologically. If there was ever a time when the individual felt that their voice didn’t matter, all of a sudden it starts to matter. You have something worth saying. And you don’t have to just say it with words; you can say it with music added to it, because there’s so much more behind it.

At the same time, it can be retraumatizing. I never really thought about this until I was working with singers more and I would ask them to breathe low. You’d think, “Why can’t they let go? Just breathe.” But especially if there’s been childhood sexual abuse, we’re asking them to release the very part of their body where they were violated. There’s no wonder they can’t. So this is a much more gentle process, and you have to be patient. It’s about finding that space that’s safe to let go. That part can be incredibly healing—letting go of the violation as well while you’re breathing.

What is “body armoring” and what are the signs?

Caleb: You use the term “body armoring.” In your work with singers, what are the first things you look for that tell you that their technical struggle is possibly more rooted in trauma rather than a lack of training?

Ron: That’s a great question. I think it’s probably the persistence of whatever technical thing that we’re trying to overcome, that there’s just no release in it. When you listen to a singer, some things you watch for are physical things. Is there actual holding on? Is there tension? How about the release of breath? Can they actually just sigh and make it sound consistent?

Then the actual sound can tell you a fair amount. The rate of vibrato, which is just a natural wave if the voice is free. If that vibrato is typically really fast, we call that a tremolo. If it gets really wide, we call that a wobble. That can be from a lack of proper breath movement or hypertension through here. The sound can tell you a lot. And lastly, how they interpret a piece. Are there certain pieces that are traumatic for them that they just can’t connect with?Maybe it’s too close to home for them to connect with where they’re at in their journey.

How does attachment history make the stage feel unsafe?

Caleb: Performers often seek validation from an audience. How might a history of insecure attachment, which so often stems from childhood trauma, amplify that need for approval and turn the stage into a place that feels very unsafe?

Ron: If there’s been a time when an attachment has been broken, especially between primary caregivers like a father or mother, it definitely transfers over into, “We want to be accepted and we want to be good enough.” Especially if a parent expected more of a child, and what they did was never good enough. No matter how hard the child strove, they could never reach that full approval.

If we translate that into going in front of an audience, it’s almost like the performer can put the burden of the response on the audience before they’ve even performed. “I know that they’re not going to like me because my technique isn’t up to snuff, and Sally Jane, who just sang before me, is a much stronger singer. They’re going to like her better.” All those thoughts are racing through someone’s head. That’s a huge burden to carry. And then to say, “I’ve got this incredible message I want to share with you,” and yet it’s hamper