The best role models in my life have been people who told me, "You can't sing," "You won't make," or "They will not let you."
With each of these pronoucements, a new person was born inside of me who was willing to prove the speakers to the contrary. Why? Because, if I choose to sing, I sing. And, making it is to me something that I have already accomplished by standing for whom I am. Even for those who are still trying to figure out what they stand for, making it, is very well in their territority to reach their gifts. Therefore, discouragements or bars that get in the way are mere excercise to devise better strategies. It is so with music.
During my first singing performance in a master class, I observed a couple tickled with shame, stifled in laughter, but my music was full of noise: hyena squeaks, crashing cutlery skreaks mixed with solid base. Several months prior, I had lived through reverberations of notices about what I couldn't or wouldn't do with my voice. I had just undergone reconstructive surgery and with singing and vibrations of the vocal instrument came the disabling pain in my face. I almost convinced myself several times that I could not do it.
Meanwhile, the phobia for the facial pain was transforming into a schizophrenia for hearing my voice completely.
At this point, I knew for myself that I must sing, and so I am.