“Choir is g—.”

Those were the words I heard at middle school when it came time to choose arts electives.

And honestly, it wasn’t hard to make the correlation—at least to a young person whose main goal (beyond just making it through the social, emotional, and physical changes of early teens) was to fit in. Being perceived as anything but masculine definitely held that goal back.

And singing in a choir? That was a one-way ticket to being a “sissy.”

But we all know that simply isn’t true.

In fact, the most confident, assertive, and put-together people I know (especially men who lead their families and churches, along with women who take on some of those responsibilities) are some of the most musically expressive.

And they sing the loudest.

A Different Norm

These days when I observe churches as they sing, here’s what I see:

I know this is subjective to my observation and experience, but I tend to see men largely refraining from expressive worship, with singing as a bare minimum which, sadly, isn’t being exercised, either. (To be clear, I don’t think it is wrong for women to sing or to lead singing; I just think the men are sorely missing out! The same goes for perceived notions of femininity and masculinity: I appreciate the feminine, and I want to see more of the masculine join in!)

Why does this happen? In musicology, this is extensively discussed and debated. Anatomy, physiology, psychology, sociology, and accessibility all play roles in whether a boy chooses to continue singing, especially in public settings.

As boys feel pressure from the physical changes they face (“My voice is breaking—I can’t sing!”) in combination with societal pressures (“Only girls sing in choir—and if there’s a guy singing with me, then he’s probably ‘girly,’ too.”), they tend to drop away from public singing.

At the heart of this issue is an askew social norm:

“The only males I see singing are effeminate. Therefore, all male singing is effeminate.”

Of course, this is a hasty generalization. It’s dictating a natural reality (what singing “is”) based on a limited experience. What does bear consideration is how singing fits within societal structures, especially if we look for social acceptance and therefore avoid anything that would lump us into an undesired social group.

And with the local church being a cornerstone of social life, singing falls within the natural obligations for all those participating within the broader church life.

And when one group of people don’t, won’t, or can’t meet that obligation, then the church body misses a huge blessing.

Here’s where I experienced that blessing on a deeply personal level.

The Singing Superintendent

Fast forward to my first year of college. I was a freshman music education major, and I was advised that if I were to be an effective educator (plus have a greater chance of getting a job), I would need to have choir experience.

So, I joined the non-auditioned choral ensemble, and let me tell you—my eyes were opened. In fact, I had a blast!

For that semester, we worked through Mozart’s Requiem in D minor, which was full of dramatic, dark, and formidable passages that vividly captured the emotional and spiritual weight of finality and death.

And there was nothing lacking when it came to a strong sense of masculinity. For instance, take the “Confutatis,” where the basses open the movement with a strong melody in A minor (jump to 5:13 if you want to skip the arguing between Salieri and Mozart):

Needless to say, my perception of choral music, both as a participant and observer, was changing. And it was further cemented through a deeply personal experience not long after.

At some point in that same semester, my family and I visited my grandparents over a weekend, and we attended Sunday services at their church. This wasn’t a wholly new thing; I remember countless times visiting and feeling bored during the hymn singing. So, my mind would often wander and I would miss the finer details around me, sitting with my siblings and cousins while my parents, grandparents, and aunts/uncles sat at the other end of the pew.

Not this particular day, though. I was excited to flex my newly developed skill of reading choral music, and I sat next to my grandfather as the service began.

To give you an idea of who my grandfather is, here are some highlights:

He’s also deeply spiritual, and for many years, he was the Sunday school superintendent at church, developing and leading Bible studies for the church.

Coming back to the Sunday visit during college: My expectations were fairly low for the singing. From my past experience, if I ever paid attention, I only heard most folks singing the melody to a hymn, and the rest of the parts were covered in the piano chords. But, since I could read fairly well, I would get to sing the bass part by myself (and stoke my pride a little bit in the process).

Imagine my surprise to hear a deep, booming, basso profundo drowning out my average baritone—right next to me! That’s right, my grandpa was singing the same part—and absolutely owning it!

After church, I turned to him, and asked him where he learned to read parts. “Oh, I sang in high school choir! In fact, if I could’ve gone to college, I would probably have learned to be a music teacher.”

Here was one of the most masculine men I knew, singing the loudest and with the most skill in church, who also would’ve pursued a choral education career if life had worked out differently.

That spoke volumes to me, especially in my perception around singing in public:

Singing has lost its stigma. It isn’t just for the feminine; the masculine has a place, too.

Re-Shaping How We Sing

OK—the stigma is now lost on singing, particularly in revealing how masculine it can be, balancing with the feminine qualities that round out our experience of singing.

But there’s still a persistent problem: Men haven’t yet risen to the occasion. So how can we get more men to sing on Sunday mornings?

Once the desire for singing is borne (and with it, overcoming false notions of how “manly” it is/isn’t), we have to cultivate it with accessibility, and like I’ve said before, many modern CCM repertoire is just too high. Much like the teenage boys experiencing a voice “break,” many men these days just can’t sing up there with the trained male singers on the radio (who are mostly rock tenors).

The solution? Bring the key down, which will invariably help out our female singers, too. For the worship leaders out there, especially the tenors, you’ve likely spent most of your worship-leading career stuck in the stratosphere. This has left you with a highly developed, belting high range that projects well and is rich with tone. But your lower and middle registers lack the same “oomph.”

Spend some time exploring those areas, developing breath support and manipulating the tone to strengthen it.

Aiming For Balance

I want to reiterate what I said earlier:

I don’t think it is wrong for women to sing or to lead singing; I just think the men are sorely missing out! The same goes for perceived notions of femininity and masculinity: I appreciate the feminine, and I want to see more of the masculine join in!

So the aim of all this is to bring the expression and experience of singing into balance, solving the current issue where masculine presence is largely absent and its feminine counterpart fills that hole.

Again: There’s nothing wrong with a strong female singing presence. But when the masculine stays silent, we miss out on the collective praise that, while firstly glorifies God, serves as way to encourage each other.

Much like I was blown away from my grandfather’s prowess and confidence in singing, the people of your church are encouraged by example. So men…

How loud are you gonna be?

Be blessed 👊✌️