Homeless Women Find Healing in DC Chorus

One conductor witnesses the restorative power of music in her chorus at Washington, DC's N Street Village shelter.

You never know where life will take you. My life has taken me to Washington, DC, and the Steinbruck Center for Urban Studies, a ministry of Luther Place Memorial Church, where I have worked as a member of Lutheran Volunteer Corps to educate people in the community about homelessness and poverty.

Much of my work has centered on N Street Village, a continuum of care for homeless women started by Luther Place in the 1970s. N Street serves over 900 homeless women a year—a mere third of the homeless female population in DC. In addition to providing housing, food, and clothing, the shelter offers classes in art, autobiography writing, yoga, and cooking.

"But where's the music?" I wondered during my first year volunteering there. With degrees in music and art, I knew I could fill this void and soon found myself in a meeting with the director of the Wellness Center. Could I teach a weekly music class?

Two and a half years later I am leading Bethany's Women of Praise, a music group of almost 30 homeless or low-income women who receive N Street's services and attend my class. I came into this opportunity with lots of expectations. I was sure that, with all of my musical training, I would know exactly what to teach. But I was wrong.

I was wrong to assume that the women would only want to sing gospel music. As it turns out, they love Bach and Beethoven, Chopin and Debussy. They were fascinated by the Rite of Spring and drawn into the story of Peter and the Wolf. We've had classes on everything from Gregorian chant to John Cage. And I was wrong to assume they would prefer learning music by ear. In fact, they have been empowered by learning to read music—and learning that the notes on the page actually mean something.  

Bethany's Women of Praise continues to surprise me. Our class once had a discussion about what qualifies as music. To gauge their reactions, I banged my fist on the piano and asked, "Is that music?"

I thought I would know their answer but, again, I was wrong. "Yes, that's music!" they said. "It sounds angry, but it represents how you must be feeling, and that's okay. It's okay to be angry. That's definitely music!" When asked for their definition of music, they said, "Music is joy and soul." One woman even asked me to write "healing" on the board.

These are such strong women, coming from so many different places. Some are recovering addicts. Some are mentally ill. Some are illiterate or uneducated. Some have been abused. Some have college and post-college degrees. Some were born into unfortunate situations. Some have been lawyers, teachers, or government workers. Most are broken, but all are strong.

In my efforts to teach Bethany's Women of Praise, it is I who have been taught. I have been welcomed and I have been served. Together, we have experienced a mutual hospitality that many are seeking, and I strongly believe music can facilitate that. I have been blessed to watch individuals come together to form a community, bound by song.

We are certainly not the only homeless choir around. Unconventional choirs exist, such as prison choirs, nursing home choirs, and choirs comprised of singers with mental or physical handicaps. But I look forward to the day when such groups are no longer classified as "unconventional." On that day, we will truly understand the definition of music as "healing." We will see it as a power beyond ourselves: an inexplicable joy, an agitation for change, a tool for social justice, and a way to build community in a world that so desperately needs it.