Thank you for being here for our concert, What Trans Joy Sounds Like.
I keep returning to this title because it feels like both an invitation and an affirmation. It invites us to listen in a particular way: not only for beauty and harmony, but for the sound of people becoming more fully themselves in the presence of one another. And it affirms something I believe deeply: that trans joy is not hypothetical or distant. It is already here, in the room, in these voices, in the act of singing together.
So often, trans and nonbinary lives are spoken about in terms of struggle, loss, or survival. Those realities are real, and they matter. But they are not the whole of us. This program begins with another truth: that joy is also part of our story. Joy can be bold. It can be soft. It can be mischievous, tender, defiant, sensual, quiet, communal, and free. It can sound like laughter in rehearsal, like a breath taken together, like a voice finding its place within a larger sound.
As we prepared this music, I kept returning to the individuality of the singers in this choir. Each person brings their own history, tone, humor, vulnerability, and way of moving through the world. None of that disappears when we sing together. In fact, it is what makes the collective sound possible. As a conductor, I have felt this joy most clearly in the moments when the room relaxes and singers trust each other enough to be heard. What you’ll hear is not a single definition of trans joy. It is many people offering many versions of it at once.
For me, this program is about presence. It is about what happens when people are not asked to shrink, translate, or explain themselves before they are heard. It is about the care required to make something together and the power of being witnessed while doing so.
I invite you to listen not only as an audience but as witnesses: to receive what is offered with openness, to notice the many forms joy can take, and to carry that recognition with you beyond this room.
Trans joy is not simply something we have. It is something we practice, individually and collectively. Trans joy is something we protect. Something we build with one another, breath by breath, song by song.
We are grateful to share that sound and our joy with you.
With appreciation,
Dr. Cee E. Adamson
Executive & Artistic Director, STANCEFRIDAY, JUNE 12
DIONNE FOSTER
Introduction from Jade Dikelsky (they/she), Tenor
Hello! My name is Jade Dikelsky, and I am the Marketing and Events Chair on the board. I’ve been in STANCE for 3 years, and it has been really lovely to meet so many awesome people. This organization allowed me to find a real community in Seattle and build really close relationships with so many cool people. Our singers in this choir and volunteers have put countless hours of work into this organization, and we can’t wait to share it with you. Tonight, I am so happy to introduce our first elected official to ever come to one of our concerts. When Dr. Cee and I met with this person, she totally understood the value of our mission to create a community for people like us. She also provided some solutions to things we have been working on that we didn’t know about. Right now there is a lot of money in politics. We don’t have millions of dollars, but working with elected officials in our capacity with STANCE is a powerful way we can share the voices of increasingly marginalized communities with people that can change things. Please give a warm welcome to Citywide Councilmember Dionne Foster!
FRIDAY, JUNE 13
ALEXIS MERCEDES RINCK
Introduction from Jade Dikelsky (they/she), Tenor
Hello! My name is Jade Dikelsky, and I am the Marketing and Events Chair on the board. I’ve been in STANCE for 3 years, and it has been really lovely to meet so many awesome people. This organization allowed me to find a real community in Seattle and build really close relationships with so many cool people. Our singers in this choir and volunteers have put countless hours of work into this organization, and we can’t wait to share it with you. Today, I am so happy to be introducing the second elected official to be at one of our concerts. When a group of us met her, we learned that she is a former flute player, who considered switching to trumpet to play in DCI. That last sentence probably went over most people’s heads, but this showed to me, a recovering marching band nerd, that she understands the power that music has to create community. Right now there is a lot of money in politics. We don’t have millions of dollars, but working with elected officials in our capacity with STANCE is a powerful way we can share the voices of increasingly marginalized communities with people that can change things. Please give a warm welcome to Citywide Councilmember Alexis Mercedes Rinck!
THIS PIECE CONTAINS STRONG LANGUAGE
Reader
-
Reina Jameson (she/her), Tenor (June 12-13)
-
Sasha Winter (she/her), Alto (June 25)
trans joy, by Aurora Hatchel
This one is going to be about trans joy
because I’m tired of being a martyr,
as though I’m only valuable when I’m a lesson
for cis people to learn.
I want less talk about getting caught
when we stole our sisters' dresses,
And more talk about feeling a smooth leg rub
against another smooth leg
for the first time in twenty years.
To know that skin can kiss skin
and be none the worse for it,
that friction isn’t needed for connection.
When people say they would do anything
for a Dr. Pepper, right now,
We all know they’re lying.
They won’t give up their job, their family,
their dignity.
Less talk about giving up our dignity
and more about leaving a lipstick stain
on the rim of a cold glass of doctor pepper,
that satisfaction in knowing you have left a mark,
of seeing yourself as indelible
instead of a ghost haunting your own life.
And when lovers say they would do anything for the other,
We know that’s only mostly true.
We know as Meatloaf once said: “I won’t do that.”
Have a threesome, do the dishes, give up meat,
Or go to your bigoted mother’s house.
Less talk about mothers misgendering us
and more talk about finding
those legendary, perfect-fit jeans that make you look hot
but feel comfy all at once.
The kind of pants they write book series about
and make you feel for the first time a part of a sisterhood.
When I was little, I used to prepare my three wishes before I even found my genie
And the first one, each and every time, was to be a woman.
The second one was to be hot.
The third was for Poison Ivy to kiss me, even if it killed me.
Who would care if you died as long as
you died a hot lesbian kissing another hot lesbian?
Less talk about dying, metaphorical and literal,
and more talk about smiling at a child in a grocery store
and not being treated like a predator,
of realizing you’ve become a soccer mom with cold orange slices
instead of your soccer father who was banned
from your sister's matches because
he yelled too meanly too often too loudly.
If you had asked me if I wanted to be a woman,
I would have said yes. Hell yes. Fuck yes.
But if you had asked me if I wanted to
Lose my friends, my family, my job, all respect in my field,
to go so broke that my house has no heat in the winter,
and I’m huddling against my tiny children for warmth,
all just to feel these tiny glimmers of trans joy,
I would have said no. Hell no. Fuck no.
And I did. For thirty years, each day was one long ‘no.’
But now that I’m here,
now that I’m ready to give the sad but angry speech
that will win some cis man an Academy Award,
now that I am at the quite literal bottom
of the quite literal rock,
I would make these trades again in a heartbeat.
Everything.
Anything.
Not for Dr. Pepper or love.
But for me.
For the real me I’ve been beating up
and locking in a closet for thirty years.
For her, little Aurora, to see her smile,
to let her have a minute of trans joy?
I’d do it all over again
and in each and every timeline.
Yeah. Let’s have more talk about that.
From the author
I typically write poems handling trauma and grief (my collection of poems is called Sadness & Sadness Accessories, after all), but this poem was a defiant desire to write about what is lovely about being trans. Even in that space, I wanted to acknowledge what we've lost in order to transition, and to say that even when I stack up everything that's been taken away from me and the people I've lost because of my transition, it's more than worth it. I offer that to anyone scared to transition: you lose much, and it will still be more than worth it. You can find a collection of my poems to purchase online.
-
Composer: Christopher H. Harris*
Poet: Langston Hughes* (1902 – 1967)
Words
Bring me all of your dreams,
You dreamers.
Bring me all of your
Heart melodies
That I may wrap them
In a blue cloud-cloth
Away from the too rough fingers
Of the world.Program Notes
Our concert begins with joy as the act of becoming. Bring Me All Your Dreams opens a space of tenderness, trust, and possibility, inviting us to bring forward the hopes, fears, and imagined futures that shape who we are. In Bring Me All Your Dreams, Christopher H. Harris uses gentle choral writing to honor the vulnerability of Langston Hughes’s text, allowing the music to feel like an invitation into trust, imagination, and becoming. Rather than beginning with a grand declaration, the program starts with vulnerability: the quiet courage of offering one’s inner life to another. This is joy before arrival, joy in process, joy in the act of imagining a self and a future not yet fully formed but already real. In this opening invitation, trans joy begins as something intimate, held, and gently sung into being.
* = BIPOC composer/poet
In her book Atlas of the Heart, Brene Brown talks about something called "Foreboding Joy". Put simply, it's when "you’re afraid to lean into good news, wonderful moments, and joy". It's the fear that, by opening up and allowing yourself to be filled with joy, you leave yourself vulnerable to more pain. So when you feel joy approaching, you put your walls up, and make sure not to make yourself vulnerable in joy. Unfortunately, this also denies you much of the joy itself. To fully embrace joy, you must be willing to be vulnerable. But I think there is an important piece missing from this description: Vulnerability is less threatening when surrounded by people who understand.
After my egg cracked, STANCE was one of the first communities where I felt safe to be myself. Here, I knew I wouldn't need to justify my pronouns, wouldn't need to dress a certain way to be accepted, and I could sing low Bass and not have people make assumptions about my gender because of it. This space allows me greater access to trans joy because here that vulnerability doesn't feel like I am opening myself up to pain. I'm just opening myself up to connection and understanding.
I believe this is part of the reason why trans joy is experienced by so many of us. Authenticity, and the vulnerability that comes with it, are foundational trans experiences. We know intimately the feeling of inviting in joy alongside vulnerability. In order to be ourselves, we open our hearts to feelings and experiences that overwhelm us; leave us laughing, crying, laugh-crying, and cry-laughing. Experiences that are threatening and scary at first, but bring with them joy. We make ourselves vulnerable alongside others so that we may be authentic. And in so doing, we open ourselves up to joy.
- Hannah Oshlag (she/her), Bass
Composer: Reginal Wright*
Poet: Arthur O'Shaughnessy (1844 – 1881)
Words
We are the music-makers,
And we are the dreamers of dreams,
Wandering by lone sea-breakers,
And sitting by desolate streams.
World-losers and world-forsakers,
Upon whom the pale moon gleams;
We are the movers and shakers,
We are the music-makers
We are the dreamers of dreams.Program Notes
With bold intention, We Are the Music Makers turns joy into authorship. Reginal Wright’s setting of We Are the Music Makers gives O’Shaughnessy’s visionary text a bold choral energy, emphasizing the power of artists and singers to shape the world through sound. Drawing on text inspired by Arthur O’Shaughnessy’s famous poem, the piece presents artists not as passive interpreters, but as active creators of culture, community, and possibility. After the intimate opening of Bring Me All Your Dreams, we arrive as a full collective, claiming our voice and space. Here, joy is voice: not filtered, not translated, not softened for someone else’s comfort, but fully and authentically sounded. The choir does not ask permission to exist; it enters as a force capable of shaping the world around it.
* = BIPOC composer
Words & Music: Pentatonix (Mitchell Grassi, Scott Hoying, Kevin Olusola*, Martin Johnson, and Sam Hollander)
Arrangement: Mark Brymer
Soloists
-
Haven Wilvich (she/her), Bass
-
Morgan Fiskevold, (she/her), Alto
Instruments
-
Percussion: Spiderweb Powers, (any/all pronouns), Alto
Lyrics
Sing captures joy in its most immediate and embodied form. Originally created by members of the group Pentatonix, the song carries the unmistakable energy of contemporary vocal pop: rhythmic drive, layered sound, and an invitation to participate. With bright rhythms, forward motion, and an infectious sense of release, the piece celebrates singing as a physical act: breath moving through the body, sound becoming energy, voice becoming presence. Singing here is not about perfection; it is about aliveness. In the context of this program, the piece reminds us that trans joy is not abstract. It lives in the body—in rhythm, vibration, movement, and shared sound. To sing openly is to be present openly, and that presence becomes its own kind of celebration.
Program Notes
It doesn't matter if your days are long (Sing!)
It doesn't matter if your night's gone wrong (Sing!)
Just clap your hands and stomp your feet and sing it (Whoa, sing!)
It doesn't matter if he let you go (Sing!)
It doesn't matter if she hurt you so (Sing!)
Get up and dance, just feel that beat and sing it (Whoa, sing!)
I don't know what you've been told
But music make you lose control
Sing, sing, sing, sing
Sing it out as hard as you can
Make 'em hear ya from LA to Japan
Don't let 'em bring you down
This is how we do it now
Go and roll them windows down and
Sing, sing, sing, sing
Sing it with your hands in the sky
Light it up like it's the 4th of July
Don't let 'em bring you down
You know what I'm talking 'bout
A little bit louder now
It doesn't matter if you're way off track (Sing!)
Feel like you're headed for a heart attack (Sing!)
Just raise your voice and bring the noise and sing it (Whoa, sing!)
Sing for your mama, sing for your daughter (Sing!)
Sing for you sisters, misters, best friends, brother (Sing!)
Cause I don't know what you've been told
But music make you lose control (Sing!)
Sing, sing, sing, sing
Sing it out as hard as you can
Make 'em hear ya from LA to Japan
Don't let 'em bring you down
This is how we do it now
Go and roll them windows down and
Sing, sing, sing, sing
Sing it with your hands in the sky
Light it up like it's the 4th of July
Don't let 'em bring you down
You know what I'm talking 'bout
A little bit louder now
Sing it for your mama, ay
Sing it for your papa, ay
Sing it for the whole world
For your boy or girl, for your #1 bae
KO on the beat, okay?
I'm the human 808
Go ahead, go sing it, don't talk
Cause the beat won't stop
No way, way, way, way
Sing, sing, sing, sing
Sing it out as hard as you can
Make 'em hear ya from LA to Japan
Don't let 'em bring you down
This is how we do it now
Go and roll them windows down and
Sing, sing, sing, sing
Sing it with your hands in the sky
Light it up like it's the 4th of July
Don't let 'em bring you down
You know what I'm talking 'bout
A little bit louder now
You know what I'm talking 'bout
Sing a little bit louder nowSing
* = BIPOC composer/lyricist
-
Composer: Dale Trumbore
Lyrics: Laura Foley
Lyrics
I have noticed joy
how it threads below
the darkness.
Have you seen it too?
And have you heard it,
how it speaks
the unspeakable,
the bliss?
A kind of silence,
a light
beneath pain.
Have you noticed?
It rises like fingers
and then—look!
it presses through.Program Notes
Threads of Joy centers joy as intimacy. Dale Trumbore’s Threads of Joy reflects her gift for intimate text setting, using delicate harmonies and careful musical pacing to illuminate the small moments of connection that hold people together. The piece reflects on the subtle, often fleeting moments that connect us to one another: gestures of care, shared presence, quiet recognition, and the feeling of being gently understood. Trans joy is not always loud or public; it can be small, close, and deeply personal. Through its delicate musical language, Threads of Joy asks us to notice how these small moments accumulate into something sustaining. Joy becomes a fabric, woven through relationship, trust, and the simple grace of being seen.
Composer: Noah Thys*
Words: Alfred Tennyson (1809-1892), excerpts from Maud (XI:I-II, XII:III, XXVI:II)
Words
Oh, let the solid ground
Not fall beneath my feet
Before my life has found
What some have found so sweet.
Birds in our wood sang
Ringing through the valleys,
I am here (here, here)
In among the lilies.
Then let come what come may,
What matter if I go mad,
I shall have had my day.
Let the sweet heavens endure,
Not close and darken above me
Before I am quite quite sure
I leave something here of me.
In silent places
By the soil that gave me birth,
I am here (here, here)
In my home’s embraces.
Then let come what come may,
What matter if I go mad,
I shall have had my day.Program Notes
I Shall Have Had My Day offers joy as endurance and self-knowledge. Noah Thys gives the text a quiet dignity, shaping the music so that its reflection on time, selfhood, and presence feels steady rather than sentimental. This reflective work speaks with quiet confidence about the passage of time and the certainty of one’s existence within it. Rather than demanding recognition, it rests in a deeper assurance: that a life lived authentically carries its own inherent value. Here, joy is not exuberant, but steady. It is the joy of knowing one has existed, mattered, and taken up space in time. It is presence after erasure, a calm affirmation that the self is real and worthy.
* = BIPOC composer
Before I transitioned, I found it nearly impossible to make friends and socialize with others. The advice I got was, “Just be yourself. Show them the authentic you, and you’ll find people who love you.” Yet whenever I tried to be authentic, it still felt like I was pretending. How could I be myself when who I was felt so hollow?
But once I became Mira, it all came so naturally. I no longer had to think about how to act or how to be engaging or attractive. Now people so easily fall in love with the woman I’ve become. And I’ve fallen in love with her, too. Because now, I’m whole.
- Miranda "Mira" Deacon (she/her), Tenor
Words & Music: Jenna Andrews, Stephen Eric Kirk, and Mark Sonnenblick
Arrangement: Jack Zaino
Soloists
-
Theo Moon (they/them), Bass/Baritone
-
Dahe Kim (they/them), Alto
-
Andie Huynh (they/them; she/her), Alto (June 12)
-
Tulani Reeves-Miller (they/them), Alto (June 13 & 25)
Instruments (June 12-13 only)
-
Drum Machine & Keytar: Christiana Crabbe (any pronouns), Soprano
Lyrics
Nothing but the truth now
Nothing but the proof of what I am
The worst of what I came from, patterns I'm ashamed of
Things that even I don't understand
I tried to fix it, I tried to fight it
My head was twisted, my heart divided
My lies all collided
I don't know why I didn't trust you to be on my side
I broke into a million pieces, and I can't go back
But now I'm seeing all the beauty in the broken glass
The scars are part of me, darkness and harmony
My voice without the lies, this is what it sounds like
Why did I cover up the colors stuck inside my head?
I should've let the jagged edges meet the light instead
Show me what's underneath, I'll find your harmony
The song we couldn't write, this is what it sounds like
We're shattering the silence, we're rising, defiant
Shouting in the quiet, "You're not alone"
We listened to the demons, we let them get between us
But none of us are out here on our own
So we were cowards, so we were liars
So we're not heroes, we're still survivors
The dreamers, the fighters, no lying, I'm tired
But dive in the fire, and I'll be right here by your side
We broke into a million pieces, and we can't go back
But now we're seeing all the beauty in the broken glass
The scars are part of me, darkness and harmony
My voice without the lies, this is what it sounds like (ah)
Why did we cover up the colors stuck inside our head?
Get up and let the jagged edges meet the light instead
Show me what's underneath, I'll find your harmony
Fearless and undefined, this is what it sounds like
This is what it sounds like
Hey! (Oh-oh, oh-oh), hey! (Oh-oh)
This is what it sounds like
Hey! (Oh-oh, oh-oh), hey! (Oh-oh)
This is what it sounds like
Hey! (Oh-oh), hey! (Oh-oh)
This is what it (sounds like), this is what it
This is what it sounds like
We broke into a million pieces, and we can't go back
But now I'm seein' all the beauty in the broken glass
The scars are part of me, darkness and harmony
My voice without the lies, this is what it sounds like
Why did we cover up the colors stuck inside our head?
Get up and let the jagged edges meet the light instead
Show me what's underneath, I'll find your harmony
Fearless and undefined, this is what it sounds like
My voice without the lies, this is what it sounds like
Fearless and undefined, this is what it sounds like
Truth after all this time, our voices all combined
When darkness meets the light, this is what it sounds likeProgram Notes
What It Sounds Like brings the themes of voice and becoming into full declaration. The piece centers the idea that sound, especially the human voice, can communicate identity in ways words alone cannot. Each voice contributes to a larger, evolving whole, creating something richer through unity. Positioned at the end of Part I, the piece functions as both a question and an answer. What does trans joy sound like? It sounds like people becoming themselves. It sounds like voices claiming space. It sounds like the movement from private dream to public presence, from being unheard to being unmistakably alive in sound.
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Meet us back here after a 10-15 minute break!
Composer: Grace Coberly*
Performers
-
Sylvia Juniper Lloyd (she/her), Tenor 1
-
Maia Oliver (they/them), Tenor 1
-
Rosemary De Luca (it/fae; she/they), Tenor 2
-
Mitchie Vega (he/they), Tenor 2
-
Jin Zeng (he/him), Tenor 2
-
Jade Dikelsky (they/she), Bass 1/Baritone
-
Nico Toé (they/he), Bass 1/Baritone
-
Koda Taylor, Bass 2
-
My Lopez (they/any), Bass 2
-
Felix Suterland (they/them), Bass 2
-
Mikey Prince (they/he), Bass 2
Lyrics
Dear lover, dear friend, see how gentle the night
that warms us from the cold.
When we met, I could swear I had known you before
in a lifetime gentler still.
This is our homeland, our haven in the woods —
familiar shadows, a sky we call our own.
And surely someday, we all will meet again.
In music, we’ll never be alone.
If the night falls too fast, I will seek out the sun
and paint it in the sky.
If the monsters return, I will drive them away
to keep you safe with me.
I will love you until the time I leave you.
But even though the distance grows,
we will never be apart.
This is our homeland, our haven in the woods —
familiar shadows, a sky we call our own.
And surely someday, we all will meet again.
When we’re centuries old and our voices are gone,
we will all come home* = Transgender composer/lyricist
Program Notes
Homeland centers joy as connection and belonging. Grace Coberly’s Homeland treats the idea of home with tenderness and openness, using the ensemble to suggest that belonging can be created through memory, care, and shared presence. Homeland asks what home means: whether it is a place, a memory, a people, or something we create together through care. After Part I’s journey of finding voice and becoming, this piece asks where that voice can safely reside. In this program, homeland becomes chosen community, a space where trans joy can take root, be protected, and grow.
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Composer: Timothy Takach
Poet: Jodi Hills
Words
I never thought it would be you
who changed my life.
There are so many people
I thought could have, but didn’t...
And then our paths crossed,
so randomly, so suddenly,
and my whole world is better
because of it.
Whatever happens today, know that,
surrounded by noise,
you are an instrument of joy.
You created a song.Program Notes
In You Created a Song, joy becomes participatory. Timothy Takach’s You Created a Song reflects his deep understanding of ensemble singing, turning the act of music-making into something communal, participatory, and alive in the room. The piece invites the boundary between performer and audience to soften, reminding us that music is not simply delivered from stage to listener; it is created through shared presence. Everyone in the room contributes to the soundscape of the moment, whether through voice, attention, breath, or witness. Coming after Homeland, this piece expands the idea of belonging outward. Home is not only remembered or named; it is actively made together. Joy multiplies through connection, becoming something no single person owns because everyone helps bring it into being.
Composer: Giselle Wyers
Lyrics: Amy Lowell (1874-1925)
Lyrics
I ask but one thing of you, only one,
That always you will be my dream of you;
That never shall I wake to find untrue
All this I have believed and rested on,
Forever vanished, like a vision gone
Out into the night. Alas, how few
There are who strike in us a chord we knew
Existed, but so seldom heard its tone
We tremble at the half-forgotten sound.
The world is full of rude awakenings
And heaven-born castles shattered to the ground,
Yet still our human longing vainly clings
To a belief in beauty through all wrongs.
O stay your hand, and leave my heart its songs!Program Notes
Tender and deeply expressive, To a Friend honors joy as relationship. In To a Friend, Giselle Wyers shapes the music with lyrical warmth and emotional clarity, allowing the piece to feel like an intimate musical gesture of gratitude, trust, and care. The piece reflects the intimacy, trust, and care that define friendship and chosen family: the bonds we build intentionally, often out of necessity, and then discover as sources of strength. Its lyrical warmth reminds us that joy often grows in the presence of those who truly see and affirm us. Within the larger arc of the program, this piece narrows the focus of community to one person reaching toward another. Trans joy here sounds like recognition, companionship, and the relief of not having to become oneself alone.
Words & Music: Benj Pasek & Justin Paul
Arrangement: Roger Emerson
Soloists
-
June 12-13
-
Felix Sutherland (they/them), Bass/Baritone
-
Isabelle Adora (she/her), Bass/Baritone,
-
Rae Perez (they/them), Tenor
-
-
June 25
-
My Lopez (they/them), Bass/Baritone
-
Yoshi Das (he/him), Tenor
-
Rae Perez (they/them), Tenor
-
Instruments
-
Guitar: Luka Fern Slater (they/he) Bass/Baritone
-
Drums: Frankie Wolf (they/them), Tenor
-
Bass (June 12-13): Ben Keenan (he/him), Bass/Baritone
Lyrics
I've learned to slam on the brake
Before I even turn the key
Before I make the mistake
Before I lead with the worst of me
Give them no reason to stare
No slipping up if you slip away
So I've got nothing to share
No, I got nothing to say
Step out, step out of the sun
If you keep getting burned
Step out, step out of the sun
Because you've learned, because you've learned
On the outside always looking in
Will I ever be more than I've always been?
'cause I'm tap, tap, tapping on the glass
I'm waving through a window
I try to speak, but nobody can hear
So I wait around for an answer to appear
While I'm watch, watch, watching people pass
I'm waving through a window
Oh, can anybody see, is anybody waving
Back at me?
We start with stars in our eyes
We start believing that we belong
But every sun doesn't rise
And no one tells you where you went wrong
Step out, step out of the sun
If you keep getting burned
Step out, step out of the sun
Because you've learned, because you've learned
On the outside always looking in
Will I ever be more than I've always been?
'cause I'm tap, tap, tapping on the glass
Waving through a window
I try to speak, but nobody can hear
So I wait around for an answer to appear
While I'm watch, watch, watching people pass
Waving through a window
Oh, can anybody see, is anybody waving?
When you're falling in a forest and there's nobody around
Do you ever really crash, or even make a sound
When you're falling in a forest and there's nobody around
Do you ever really crash, or even make a sound
When you're falling in a forest and there's nobody around
Do you ever really crash, or even make a sound
When you're falling in a forest and there's nobody around
Do you ever really crash, or even make a sound
Did I even make a soundDid I even make a sound
It's like I never made a sound
Will I ever make a sound?
On the outside always looking in
Will I ever be more than I've always been
'cause I'm tap, tap, tapping on the glass
Waving through a window
I try to speak
But nobody can hear
So I wait around for an answer to appear
While I'm watch, watch, watching people pass
Waving through a window
Can anybody see, is anybody waving back at me?
Oooh, is anybody waving
Waving, waving, whoa-oh, whoa-oh-oh-ohProgram Notes
Originally from the musical Dear Evan Hansen, Waving Through a Window acknowledges the ache of invisibility. Pasek and Paul’s Waving Through a Window captures the anxious longing of someone desperate to be seen, and Roger Emerson’s arrangement brings that theatrical emotional arc into a choral setting. Its rising intensity gives voice to the experience of feeling unseen, disconnected, or afraid to reach out. Within a concert centered on trans joy, this moment is essential because the joy being celebrated is not naive. It exists alongside loneliness, exclusion, and the longing to be recognized. But the program does not remain in that place. Here, invisibility is named so that visibility can become more powerful. The piece becomes a bridge from isolation toward connection, from watching through the glass toward stepping into the room.
-
THIS PIECE CONTAINS STRONG LANGUAGE
(For my people)
(Breath in)
(Breath out)
(Don't forget to enjoy it kiddo <3)
Okay. This one's for y'all.
I remember singing in the car all alone.
That shit's freedom, really.
Like wow I really do sound like chappell roan
I'm literally her.
Gimme a mic I'm going platinum.. Tomorrow!
I remember turning off the stereo
And... I'm shit.
These skrunkly ass puberty fucked vocal chords and my zero talent to speak of
So the music goes back on. Full blast.
I am totally her. Bliss
It's hard though. I mean..
There's nothing quite like STANCE!
I remember joining and going through the worst breakup of my life and OH MY GOD human beings are just meant to sing together. And dance and shake ass.
We will get there someday.
..But I really just couldn't before.
Not out there. It wasn't about being in tune or the scrunkly vocal chords. Its just that pure gender dissonance.
That "get me out of here..
I clearly wasn't made for this"
I had confidence. Too much, surely
But why am I trying to sing girlypop hits at the karaoke bar.
I'm just going to get hurt.
But it's like, you know it's there at the end of the tunnel.
That juice.
That feeling where you forget what key you're in and the music just holds you and you hold it.. and it holds you. Maaan. That's the best.
And it's really hard to find.. out there.
It lives in the car.
But I don't want that.
I want this. I know I'm not the only one.
My people want this
God, I love our people.
They're on this stage and it's awesome.
Clap Now!
This is probably not going to surprise anyone but I have never been in a choir before. Sheet music still looks like ancient runes sometimes. And if I was out there!
..I'm really not sure I could handle it.
But I'm not! I'm here. We're here, together.
I could hit you with so much prose but right now I'd rather give all my people a little kiss on the cheek and tell them that they're doing fucking great. We ARE made for this.
To sing, and make merry. And to feel really good in front of an audience.. of ourselves. And then y'all.
You may be wowed tonight. But I guarantee we will wow eachother way more.
That being said..
Thank you all for coming out and supporting us as we stand together and revel in music. Now please excuse me.
I'm going to join my people
And we are going to have so much fun.
- Reina Jameson (she/her), Tenor
Composer: Michael Gore
Lyrics: Lynn Ahrens
Arrangement: Greg Gilpin
Soloist(s)
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Mads Dineen (they/them), Alto
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Liam Stott (he/him), Bass
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Kass Coate (ze/zir), Soprano
Lyrics
Here in the dark, I stand before you
Knowing this is my chance
To show you my heart
This is the start
This is the start
I have so much to say, and I'm hoping
That your arms are open
Don't turn away
I want you near me
But you have to hear me
Here's where I stand
Here's who I am
Love me
But don't tell me who I have to be
Here's who I am
I'm what you see
You said I had to change, and I was trying
But my heart was lying
I'm not a child any longer
I am stronger
Here's where I stand
Here's who I amHelp me
To move on but please don't tell me how
I'm on my way
I'm moving nowIn this life, we come so far
But we're only who we are
Let the courage of love show us the way
We've got the power to stand up and sayHere's where I stand
Here's who I am
Stand up
And be counting, I'm counting on you
If you're with me, we'll make it throughHere's where I stand
Here's who I am
Love me, love me, love me
And we'll make it through
Here's where I stand
Baby, Baby, Baby, I'm counting on you
Here's where I stand
Love me, love me, love me
And we'll make it throughI'm counting
Ohh I'm counting
I'm counting
I'm counting on youHere's where I stand
Here's who I am
I'm counting on you
Here's where I stand
Here's who I am
We'll make it throughProgram Notes
Here’s Where I Stand answers invisibility with presence. This powerful declaration affirms the courage to stand openly and fully in one’s identity, combining emotional conviction with musical strength. After Waving Through a Window, the piece marks a decisive turn: from longing to be seen toward choosing to be visible. Joy here is earned, grounded, and unapologetic. It is the joy of taking up space without apology, of saying: this is who I am, this is where I stand, and I will not disappear. This piece becomes a moment of arrival: personal, collective, and radiant.
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Hi Everyone!
My name is Colleen. My Transgender name is Crow, like the bird. I have always felt that my gender flows between female and male. I am a proud gender fluid Queer.
I am a bridge builder as a metaphor for my life. I helped build the newer I-90 floating bridge across Lake Washington.
I am very active in the Trans Community here in Seattle.
Ever since I came out as Trans, I am much happier, and I share my story for others to help them if they think they are Trans/Queer.
Please don’t listen to the news or politicians who say we are criminals. The truth is, Trans people are more often victims of crime. Especially Black Trans women due to racism and transphobia.
At age 64, I want to have top surgery to affirm my gender. If anyone is willing to share experiences/resources, please let me know!
The government is trying to erase us now, but we’ve always been here, we are here now, and we will always be here!
Please be supportive of Trans Kids and us, check on us. We need your support now more than ever!
Pride is for everyone to celebrate Love and Life!
Thank you for being here!
- Colleen "Crow" (ze/zir), Tenor
Composer: Ēriks Ešenvalds
Words: Rabindranath Tagore* (1861-1941)
Soloist
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Melody Coleman (they/she/he), Soprano
Instruments
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Piano: Yoshi Das (he/him), Tenor
Words
This song of mine will wind its music around you
like the fond arms of love.
This song of mine will carry your sight into the heart of things
like a faithful star in the dark night over your road!
My song will be like a pair of wide wings to your dreams
like the fond arms of love it will wind its music around you.
My song will take you to the verge of the unknown
When you are in a crowd it will surround you with its strength.
When you are alone it will stay by your side like a faithful star in the dark night over your road!
And when my voice is silent, my song will live in you.Program Notes
My Song offers joy as collective radiance. Known for his rich textures and luminous harmonic language, Ēriks Ešenvalds creates a soundscape that feels both intimate and vast. The piece gathers the program’s many forms of joy: voice, becoming, intimacy, connection, visibility, embodiment, and shared presence. Individual voices do not vanish into the ensemble; they become part of something larger, brighter, and more resonant than any one voice alone. The concert ends with many voices together in full light, answering its central question one final time: trans joy sounds like a community singing itself into being.
* = BIPOC wordsmith
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Thank you to our sponsors
Thank you to our concert sponsors for your support this concert cycle! By supporting trans joy, you've helped STANCE have a successful season.
Land & Labor Acknowledgement
We would like to acknowledge that we rehearse and perform on the land of the first peoples of Seattle, the Duwamish, Muckleshoot, Stillaguamish, Cayuse, Umatilla, and Walla Walla tribes, past and present and commit to honor with gratitude the land itself and the stewardship of these indigenous tribes. We encourage you to join us in this commitment by contributing to the local Heron's Nest Outdoor Education and Restorative Justice program and Real Rent Duwamish.
We respectfully acknowledge the enslaved people, primarily of African descent, on whose exploited labor this country is built, with little to no recognition. Today, we are indebted to their labor and the labor of the many Black and brown people that continue to work in the shadows for our collective benefit. We also support the #BlackVoicesMatter movement and pledge to work towards anti-racism in all aspects of our music.
We extend our sincere thanks to our amazing AV team: Chilly, Jeff, Grayson, and Kellan. We are grateful to Jade for their talented support of our advertising and design, to our wonderful front-of-house volunteers for welcoming our audience, and to our generous donors and sponsors, whose support helps make this music possible.
We are grateful to ASL interpreters Aimee Adams and Mandie Frye for helping ensure that our work is inclusive and accessible to every audience member.
Our heartfelt thanks go to our visiting teaching artists this season, Dr. Tiffany Walker and Dr. Michael McKenzie, for sharing their knowledge, expertise, and joy of music with us. We also thank Chris Vincent for supporting our rehearsal process, and Dr. Rachel Carlson for sharing research that supports gender-affirming practices in choral ensembles.
A special note of thanks to Dr. Christopher Hanson and to Rainbow City Performing Arts for their collaboration and support.
We deeply appreciate our safety volunteers for their care of our community.
Finally, we extend our gratitude to the staff and community at UCUCC for their gracious hospitality and for providing spaces where this music and community can flourish.
Bold = Section Leaders/Coordinators
Italics = Outreach Ensemble
SOPRANOS
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Ambra Tieszen, Ayana Harscoet, Chris Ho, Christiana Crabbe, Cerridwyn Clover, Fran Mana-ay, Jules/j Hepp, Kass Coate, Lucas O'Kelley, Maddie Smith, Melody Coleman, Neha Hazra, Pearce Carpenter, Robin Wilvich, Star Dorminey
ALTOS
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Adaleigh Martin, aliyah wachob, Andie Huynh, Arries Rogers, B Underhill-Reed, Caia Kaufman Crow, Candace Martin, Dahe Kim, Erin Mae Stuckey, Fox Terry-Welsh, Galaxy Salo, Kai Schroeder, Laura Belmont, Lemon Baardsen, Logan Fenske, Logan O'Laughlin, Mads Dineen, Maia Oliver, Morgan Fiskevold, River Talt, sasha winter, Sooz Rosenfield, Spiderweb Powers, Sylvia Juniper Lloyd, Teresa Koro, Tulani Reeves-Miller
TENORS
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Alex Anderson, Ames Martin, Atlas Davey, Austin Mamont, Brooks Corbeaux, Claire Ash Vulic, Colleen “Crow” Paull, Fox Van Otterloo, Frankie Wolf, Hailey Reinhart, Jade Dikelsky, Jin Zeng, Kory Hammond, Lee Bressel, Mira Deacon, Morgana Andersen, Nico Toé, Rae Perez, Reina Jameson, Revelry Buchanan, Rosemary De Luca, Serenity Fox, Serenity Yingling, Sinead Rountree, siri ingersoll, Sonya Vásquez, Takeshi, Theo Fordham, Theo Stillwagon, Yoshi Das
BASSES
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Andy Chapel, Basil Freeling, Ben Keenan, Felix Sutherland, Hannah Oshlag, Haven Wilvich, Iz adora, James Rose, Jay Weeks, Jaycie Mitchell, Koda Taylor, Leo Ojala, Liam Stott, Luka Fern Slater, Marie GomezLopez, Mitchie Vega, My Lopez, Reno St. Jean, Riley Ozano, Sky Roberts, Taylor Hays, Theo 혜성 Moon,Wing Mui, Zane Rapiñan
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The Seattle Trans and Nonbinary Choral Ensemble, better known as STANCE, was founded in 2022 as the first chorus that is led by and for gender diverse singers in Washington. Our mission is to provide a vocal community free of gendered expectations to explore and express ourselves through music. We have rapidly grown from a grassroots movement to over 100 active singers this season. With your support, we hope to continue to grow and meet the needs of our ever expanding trans community.
STANCE Leadership
Artistic and Executive Director
Dr. Cee E. Adamson (she/they)
In the distinguished sphere of classical music, Dr. Cee E. Adamson (she/they) stands as a beacon of versatility and excellence, seamlessly weaving together her roles as a choral conductor, opera singer, voice teacher, arts administrator, and student affairs practitioner with grace and passion.
As a mezzo-soprano, Cee occupies a fluid place as an operatic talent, capable of treading the beguiling and liminal space between the countertenor and mezzo-soprano, and her vocal versatility has been well showcased in roles as Oberon in Benjamin Britten's A Midsummer Night's Dream, Giulio Cesare in Handel's Giulio Cesare, The Sorceress in Purcell's Dido and Aeneas, and tragic and comic roles from Mercedes in Carmen to Florence Pike in Albert Herring. Cee was also requested to appear as a featured supernumerary in Glimmerglass Opera’s production of Philip Glass’s Orphée.
As a choral educator, Dr. Adamson assumes the role of a visionary choral director whose leadership has transformed vocal ensembles into beacons of musical excellence. Cee is known for her meticulous attention to vocal technique and ensemble precision and her ability to cultivate a deep emotional connection within her choirs, resulting in authentic performances that resonate deeply with audiences and performers alike. Through her academic and professional practice, Cee aims to reshape the narrative around who is seen and heard in classical vocal and choral music. Visibility is not just important; it is critical—it means ensuring that underrepresented populations and identities are represented across all facets of the arts, from historical pioneers to contemporary innovators.
In December 2024, Cee completed the Doctor of Musical Arts degree from the University of Washington, specializing in vocal performance under the guidance of Dr. Carrie Shaw, as well as choral conducting with Dr. Geoffrey Boers and Dr. Giselle Wyers.
Assistant Artistic Director / Collaborative Accompanist
Mikey Prince (they/he)
Mikey found STANCE in 2022 after looking into trans choirs across the US to research trans-centered choral pedagogy. When he is not joyously music-making with community in STANCE, Mikey is joyously music-making with K-5 students as a music educator in Seattle Public Schools.
Founder
Haven Wilvich (she/her)
Haven first dreamed of a trans and nonbinary led community choir in 2016 when she got fustrated with how difficult it is being a feminine Bass singer in traditional choirs. When she's not focused on community building, she watches birds, and kayaks Washington's many beautiful bodies of water.
