Years ago, starting in 2000, I sang at a number of Tiananmen Square Candlelight Memorials in Washington, D.C. for the students of Tiananmen Square. I met amazing people, students who survived the massacre and granted asylum in the United States and their supporters. I will always hold them in my heart.
As a songwriter, one man left a deep appreciation in me for the power of song. He approached me after an event, told me he was a survivor, a student in Tiananmen Square back in June 4, 1989. Many in attendance and the speakers were also survivors.
He said he had been flying in from California for these memorials. He loved the speakers, the activists and politicians, always supported them. But then he stopped and said, "But I come here for you, the songs you sing."
Songs are heart to heart, but words spoken from the heart also land in the heart. It certainly did mine that day. It's why even though I struggle with going on stage, because I'd rather be at home reading a book, once I'm there I know that's where I'm meant to be.
I find myself coming back to our meeting, more often these days, this lived experience of how powerful song is. That there is a power within it that goes beyond the body it expresses itself through.
Music weaves itself through human experience, opening doors within us and to each other.
I'm nobody in the music industry, but I don't think there's anything more capable of spreading good than a song sincerely sung on a single voice. And we see it, in Minnesota, in every place where people lift up their voice. It is a mighty resistance. A bringer-down of walls. A builder of ladders. A grower of wings. It lulls babies to sleep and awakens the heart from protective slumber. It's the pure artistry of love.
Thank you, Teri, for conveying so much truth and compassion in your work and activism through the artistry your words and the song that is you. ❤️ 🎶
wow, you really showed here how song and voice in song is so profoundly powerful.
the Singing Resistance has moved me to tears in times when I didn’t think I had tears left to cry. It still does.
and then I think about Bruce Springsteen’s song “The Streets of Minneapolis” and how he is made that into a whole tour and movement for resistance. I just watched the movie about him on Netflix the other day and what you say here about song and how it heals is emphasized in that film as well.
I have tried to attend a few Singing Resistance events, and i can’t seem to get beyond the frog-sob. I’ve never been much of a singer, so there’s that. But in this case, I’d like to sing but I just keep crying all the feelz!
Teri, Alice's question, "Am I crying for the beauty, or for the sadness?" captures something profoundly human because the deepest experiences often refuse to separate those things. Grief, love, anger, hope, beauty, and relief can arrive together, especially when music gives expression to what ordinary language cannot carry. I was particularly moved by the idea that the singing did more than communicate a message; it created a space where people could finally feel what had been trapped inside them. Thank you for exploring how song can become both a witness to suffering and a pathway toward healing.
Heartfelt and beautiful Teri. The power of song is immense and connects generations back to the beginning of time. Your writing, and how it captures the emotions of the moment is exquisite. ❤️
The Singing Resistance is the most beautiful group expression of compassion that I have ever witnessed. A beacon of light in these distressing times. Thank you for joining together and singing. Your voices have touched many, like me.
Years ago, starting in 2000, I sang at a number of Tiananmen Square Candlelight Memorials in Washington, D.C. for the students of Tiananmen Square. I met amazing people, students who survived the massacre and granted asylum in the United States and their supporters. I will always hold them in my heart.
As a songwriter, one man left a deep appreciation in me for the power of song. He approached me after an event, told me he was a survivor, a student in Tiananmen Square back in June 4, 1989. Many in attendance and the speakers were also survivors.
He said he had been flying in from California for these memorials. He loved the speakers, the activists and politicians, always supported them. But then he stopped and said, "But I come here for you, the songs you sing."
Songs are heart to heart, but words spoken from the heart also land in the heart. It certainly did mine that day. It's why even though I struggle with going on stage, because I'd rather be at home reading a book, once I'm there I know that's where I'm meant to be.
I find myself coming back to our meeting, more often these days, this lived experience of how powerful song is. That there is a power within it that goes beyond the body it expresses itself through.
Music weaves itself through human experience, opening doors within us and to each other.
I'm nobody in the music industry, but I don't think there's anything more capable of spreading good than a song sincerely sung on a single voice. And we see it, in Minnesota, in every place where people lift up their voice. It is a mighty resistance. A bringer-down of walls. A builder of ladders. A grower of wings. It lulls babies to sleep and awakens the heart from protective slumber. It's the pure artistry of love.
Thank you, Teri, for conveying so much truth and compassion in your work and activism through the artistry your words and the song that is you. ❤️ 🎶
wow, you really showed here how song and voice in song is so profoundly powerful.
the Singing Resistance has moved me to tears in times when I didn’t think I had tears left to cry. It still does.
and then I think about Bruce Springsteen’s song “The Streets of Minneapolis” and how he is made that into a whole tour and movement for resistance. I just watched the movie about him on Netflix the other day and what you say here about song and how it heals is emphasized in that film as well.
Thank you for sharing.
I totally get that. You open your mouth to sing, and the “big ugly frog sob leaps out. “ So well put! Croak on, sisters!
I have tried to attend a few Singing Resistance events, and i can’t seem to get beyond the frog-sob. I’ve never been much of a singer, so there’s that. But in this case, I’d like to sing but I just keep crying all the feelz!
Right? And hard to know if it’ grief, relief, release, a power surge, or what. Just know you’re not alone in this.
Teri, Alice's question, "Am I crying for the beauty, or for the sadness?" captures something profoundly human because the deepest experiences often refuse to separate those things. Grief, love, anger, hope, beauty, and relief can arrive together, especially when music gives expression to what ordinary language cannot carry. I was particularly moved by the idea that the singing did more than communicate a message; it created a space where people could finally feel what had been trapped inside them. Thank you for exploring how song can become both a witness to suffering and a pathway toward healing.
I have been particularly drawn to the Singing Resistance through all this. It really feels like the best way to move forward through all of this.
Singing during protests were common during the 1960 civil rights protests. I've been singing protest songs for years.
Heartfelt and beautiful Teri. The power of song is immense and connects generations back to the beginning of time. Your writing, and how it captures the emotions of the moment is exquisite. ❤️
your comment made me go read this story again. it is one of those, “did I really write this?….yes, yes I did” moments.
The Singing Resistance is the most beautiful group expression of compassion that I have ever witnessed. A beacon of light in these distressing times. Thank you for joining together and singing. Your voices have touched many, like me.