My voice dysphoria has been running high lately.

One of winter's most reliable gifts for me is chest congestion, which tends to drop my voice a little and sniffles can lead to plugged ears, which makes it sound all the worse to me.

And like so many trans people, I am lousy with training.

Insofar that I'm not really doing it.

Yet?

(snort fifth time's a charm?)

Still, when I hear the singing voices of, for example, Ethel Cain or Jael Holzman, I get a little jealous. Not the all-consuming and destructive kind, just ...the unwelcome feelings can intensify. Whether the luck of the draw or intense and dedicated training (or both), when I am listening to one of their songs, it's not long until I'm reminded that the gap between where I am and where I want to be is both wide and feels like it's widening.

The solution is, of course, to just start training, Charlotte. It's not as if I don't have the potential to have the sort of voice that I would be more at peace with: I've never been that deep, and with training, I'm sure I can get somewhere more comfortable and less at odds with who I am.

Still, getting over self-cringe hasn't been all that easy.

Perhaps this is another thing that changing the kitchen calendar can provide a little motivation for!

December 15, 2025