This morning my housemate asked me how tech rehearsal with the chorus went last night and suddenly I found myself in an almost-flow-of-consciousness explanation of the type of overload, or overhead, I feel at rehearsals with the gay men’s chorus in general.
Even when the rehearsals go well or are fun from the musical viewpoint, there is always an overhead of effort, an emotional and/or sensorial overload for me that is really tiring. And the analogy that came to me spontaneously as I explained this to my friend this morning was some trips I did in Arabic-speaking countries.
I’m fluent in several European languages as well as their cultural norms; so for me often traveling or living in many countries spanning most of Europe and even Mexico feels comfortable to the extent that I generally find myself immersed in environments where I can understand at a glance what is going on around me, at least superficially, from the words I hear/read as well as from most of the gestures or body language or social codes. When I traveled to Syria, Lebanon and Egypt, though, this wasn’t the case: I didn’t speak the language and also many of the social norms or codes were unknown to me, including simple things like hand gestures or body language; so I found myself constantly wondering what was going on around me as well as questioning what was actually being said, or otherwise communicated, to me. And that made those trips so much more tiring (albeit wonderful) than trips in countries where I spoke the language and/or was familiar with the social norms/codes.
With the gay men’s chorus for me it feels similar to my travels in Syria. I don’t pick up on most social cues — and this is true for me in any environment. Unless something is explained/said to me explicitly or has been familiar to me for a long time, I don’t understand it. So when I find myself in big groups of people that are new and/or unknown to me, I don’t really understand what is going on. And it has always been this way for me, for as long as I can remember (school was a nightmare for me as a kid). Through the years, I’ve “learned the social codes” of several groups where I spend, or have spent, more time, like among scientists, sailors, runners or climbers, and some genderqueer environments. These are the groups of people with whom I spend, or have spent, most time and whose “languages” or “codes” I’ve learned to interpret even if they’re unnatural to me. And even in those familiar environments of which I’ve “learned the language” or “cracked the code”, I still try and find a few friends or buddies with whom to connect in small groups or one-on-one because that is easier for me.
When I’m with the people in the gay men’s chorus I feel like I’m in Syria because I don’t understand their “language”, their “codes”: I’m always in doubt of how their words are meant — is there a double meaning to some comments or compliments? — I’m confused by the meaning of their body language or gestures — why do they touch each other like that? — I often don’t get their jokes and/or references; and I’m never sure whether someone is flirting or not.
So every time I go to rehearsal, regardless of how well it may go from the musical point of view, for me it’s always like traveling to a foreign country of which I don’t speak the language and don’t even understand the codes (e.g. gestures or body language). It feels like I’m navigating a whole new world — which, I guess, in some senses I am.
The Little Prince and the Fox 