And somewhere along the way, I began to see that it could heal others just as deeply. The magic and power I found performing on stage and teaching singers — I realized it could help other people find their own voices, too. That the voice is not just an instrument of performance. It is an instrument of the soul. And it belongs to everyone.

I’ve watched a teenager with a severe stutter discover that when he sings, the stutter disappears. I’ve watched a woman in her sixties — who was told in elementary school to just mouth the words — find her voice for the first time and weep. I’ve watched people walk into my studio carrying years of silence in their bodies, and leave carrying something lighter.

Now I take everything I learned on stage and in the classroom and use it to help people heal — composing, recording, and performing, but also becoming the person you call when you need to remember that your voice matters.

I’ve distilled all of it into my Vocal Empowerment work — workshops, retreats, and one-on-one sessions — and Knightingale Voice Studio, my Iowa City vocal studio. I’m also the author of the poetry collection The Light Between the Lines, and I’m currently writing my first full-length book, Coming Home to Our Voice.

Because it turns out that when you’ve spent decades mastering your craft, the next step isn’t retirement — it’s revolution. Sometimes the most revolutionary thing a classically trained opera singer can do is teach regular people that they deserve to be heard. And sometimes, if you’re really lucky, you get to build a whole life around that revolution.