Big Ramen
When my daughter was just about one year old, she had this funny routine with her red wagon. I’d pull her to the park and as soon as we’d get across the street, she’d jump out, grab the handle, look at me with the utmost pride and shout: “Big Ramen, Mama!” I had no idea what she was trying to communicate but it was so adorable, I’d join in with her and we’d march through the park shouting, “BIG RAMEN!!!!" It wasn’t until she became a little older and more articulate that I could hear what she had been meaning to say: "Strong Woman, Mama!"
“Strong Woman, Mama!”
Big Ramen - artwork by Michele Schroeder, commissioned for me by Jennifer Ashworth
Both “Strong Woman” and “Big Ramen” have since become family mottos for us. I was so proud of her. I was proud of her tenacity and awareness. I was proud of our parenting: we were raising a strong woman. I was determined to lead by example and be a woman that she could look up to. It was around this time that I thought we would be putting our first female president in the White House and I was beyond excited to share that experience with my daughter. Of course, history revealed a different path and I was more than a little lost as to what my next action would be.
I felt selfish for being an artist. Selfish for being an artist. Selfish for indulging in self-expression. Selfish for spending so much time and energy in an art medium that was essentially about recycling historical art. I felt I was becoming ever more distant from the world around me. I felt selfish for spending valuable time on a craft that I loved instead of using my time to help others. Here I was, in a world that needed a present and aware society, singing roles that seemed to function as a distraction or escape. It felt gaudy, greedy, and useless.
I stewed in this depression for a couple of months, trying to figure out what I should do. I considered running for government; I volunteered for multiple political and community organizations; I still didn’t see a lot of clear direction. Until I saw this speech. Valarie Kaur’s poise, joy, and clear message was like a beacon of light guiding me. Her words were so poignant and poetic, I was struck by the need to sing her text. And why couldn’t I? Art song is a sub-genre of classical music in which composers use existing poetry as lyrics in an original song setting; why couldn’t we do that with speeches?!
I also remembered at this time that much of my favorite music comes out of eras of political unrest and uprising; that I could make it my artistic mission to create music and space for audiences to process current events, find creative and collaborative thoughts, get inspiration to join the conversation, and see the actions, thoughts, and emotions of a wider range of the human experience.
Since then, I have commissioned 55 songs (as of writing in 2025), released an album of 22 of these commissions, and performed many curated recitals with the goal of connecting to my audiences in a deep and meaningful way. It has totally changed my connection to my art. I see my role in society more fully and take my responsibility seriously as a witness to our current society and a dreamer of who we can become.