The Secret Struggles of Having a High-Pitched Voice
By Steven J Dennis
For those of you who know me may be aware that my voice is my biggest
affliction and for those who don’t, Hello, my name is Steven Joseph Dennis, I
am 23 years old and I have a high-pitched voice. My voice has always been the
epicentre of my insecurities throughout my life. It is the thing I love to hate
and hate to love. I have struggled with having a high-pitched voice, since
adolescence and it continues into my adulthood. Always fearing that I will be
judged or mocked for sounding different and I fear people will not take me
seriously in a working environment. People also perceive me younger than I am
due to my voice and it doesn’t help that I look young too.
This piece isn’t meant to be a pity party! I’m trying to write engaging
content to build my portfolio. People always say, “write what you know” and I
know nothing more than the struggles of having a high-pitched voice. There
isn’t much content on this subject, and I feel it is important to share my
experiences with my voice. So people can see how something so minor to some can
have monumental control over someone’s life. What you will be reading, is my
version of events and how I remember it. I cannot speak on behalf of others but
this is how I felt growing up, this is my story.
Growing
Up With My Voice
I first noticed I was different in primary school. People would seem to
treat me differently. I was a shy and effeminate child in comparison to the
other boys. Often feeling singled out and pushed aside because I didn’t enjoy
the same activities. Feeling like something was wrong with me but I was too
young to understand. The girls saw me as one of their own and welcomed me into
their circles until the dynamic shifted when we grew older. I slowly became an
infiltrator, trespassing on girl territory then once again, being exiled.
My voice became a target of ridicule during my final year of primary school. I remember the first comment I received vividly; a boy in my year asked if I was gay. At that age, I had no idea what that meant so my immediate reaction was “no!” and this became a running theme of my life until the day I came out.
High school for some is a hellish experience. I was unfortunate enough
to be burnt by the metaphorical flames of hell. I already felt like an outcast
as I was experiencing bullying already. Starting a new school terrified me and
I wasn’t naive; I knew it would get harder and certainly a lot worse. As
predicted the disparagement and taunting began, although it wasn’t as bad at
first. My sister was a few years above me, so I had comfort knowing I had a
protector. Once she left school, that’s when I felt alone. It was already a
confusing time for me as I was coming to terms with my sexuality. People would
tell me I was gay, but I didn’t feel or know I was gay (at that time). Whenever
somebody mocked my voice I would say; “I’m not gay, I just sound like it”. I
would introduce myself to people saying that, to acknowledge my voice before
they had a chance to comment.
Plot twist, I was GAY! I remember I started coming to terms with my sexuality when I would watch porn. I realised I was focusing on the man rather than the woman overcompensating with her screams. At the time, it was a shocking revelation but now I look back and laugh that I ever thought I made a convincing heterosexual. It was a lot easier once I finally burst through the doors of the closet because people wouldn’t make as many comments on my voice, as it no longer had power over me.
My life after high-school was significantly better. The hierarchy of the
popularity system had fallen and my college and university years were some of
the best times of my life! Although it is a cliché to say, it did get better
once I left school! To this day, I often face comments about my voice. The only
difference is, I am strong enough now to ignore the comments.
A list of some of the remarks I have endured regarding my voice:
- Squeaky
- Are you
gay?
- Do you
breathe helium?
- Have
your balls dropped?
- Are you
a girl/woman?
- You
sound like a girl/woman
- Do you
put that on?
- Is that
your real voice?
- Why is
your voice so high?
- You
have a big Adam’s Apple for your voice to be that high
My
Experiences with Having a High-Pitched Voice
My voice is the epicentre of my insecurities. Even the days I am not
thinking about it, there will be a subconscious feeling that will be feeding my
anxiety. All I have ever wanted is to have a deep voice or a voice that
wouldn’t be so high-pitched. It seems stupid that something so mediocre like a
voice can have power over one’s life. Mine can inhibit me, hindering me to
avoid situations to protect myself.
The situation I mostly avoid is being on the phone. I know the majority
of people dislike their voice on the phone. However, I feel the phone
emphasises the pitch and makes mine higher. As a result, I am misgendered
frequently on the phone. The tone will shift once they realise I am not female
and I am male, usually once I say my name. It’s like the voice they hear
doesn’t “fit” the name. I try to avoid phone calls as much as
possible unless it is crucial. If I am on the phone, I feel so uncomfortable
that I will speed through the conversation to finish the call. Although there
are a few exceptions, a few close friends’ I am comfortable being on the phone
to.
My bank accounts have been blocked due to my voice. I have called and
been denied access to my accounts because they do not believe that I am, who I
say I am. Although the calls were very stressful and embarrassing, the worst
part is going into the branch to unblock the accounts. Standing in the queue
and struggling to piece a sentence together to explain what had happened.
“Hello, I have been blocked from my account because I sound feminine.” – It
feels humiliating! Even saying it felt strange and I can see the confusion on
the clerks face as they couldn’t fathom what I was saying. They were apologetic
and sympathetic for the trauma it had inflicted, but it still seemed
disingenuous. I now have a footnote attached to my accounts, so when I call, it
will pop up, informing the person I am calling that my voice is different. I
find this more embarrassing than being blocked access as I must make sure they
have seen the note before I begin my inquiry because I am fearful it will
happen again.
When it happened for the third time, I was so angry. I was enraged and
on the warpath. All telephone manner went out of the window, and I lost it. I
regret it now but at the time I was so upset and angry, I couldn’t believe it
was happening again. I remember seeing the same thing happened to a trans-woman
with the same bank and I was a bull seeing red, I was like an inferno of rage.
In that rage, I emailed out my story and later sold it to The Sun. The article
was not what I had hoped it would be, it seemed to be a parody of events rather
than telling my story, but It seemed a good idea at the time. It felt like I
was part of an exposé and if you want a good lol, I’d recommend reading it.
Phone calls are easy to avoid, but it’s difficult to avoid meeting new
people. I have always been self-conscious when I meet new people and always
fear their reaction when they hear me for the first time. I find it easier to
talk to women than I do men, maybe it is a comfort thing as I have grown up
mainly surrounded by women. It wasn’t until I moved for uni that I would
interact with more men, particularly straight men. Although I purposely chose
Brighton for uni as it is known as the gay capital of the UK, I knew I would
feel more at ease being in a place that was very accepting.
Alcohol plays a key part in my social life. I am comfortable talking to
people when I drink. I become confident; my anxieties demise and I feel
temporarily freed. However, I will overcompensate when I talk to people. I’ll
do silly voices and impersonations to try and make them laugh, but it is to
distract them from my insecurities with my natural voice. Ironically, the only
voice I can’t do is a deep one. I’m infamously known for my impersonation of
Catherine Tate’s character – Nan. I will almost certainly do it when I am
drunk. I become possessed by these voices, and I can’t stop myself, even when I
am aware it’s becoming irritating. It’s like that scene in Mean Girls where
Cady can hear people become bored with her, but she can’t stop, it keeps coming
up like “word vomit”. That is what it’s like when I do these voices,
I know people are growing tired of it, but I can’t stop doing it. I feel
comfortable talking as somebody else than I do talking normally.
It goes without saying that I also hate being recorded too. I will avoid
it like the plague. Whenever people start recording around me, I become
paralysed with fear. Fearing that they will record me talking and I will have
to hear it back. However, it is public speaking I fear most and presentations
are mortifying for me. Standing in front of what feels like a sea of people, is
terrifying. My insecurities with my voice will be in full force during
situations like this. It’s fear that they will start laughing or making
comments about my voice. Even though these people knew me and didn’t have an
issue with my voice, they felt less like friends and more like critics. One
presentation during my third year at uni, my presentation partner and I were so
anxious about our presentation that she got stoned and I got drunk. I came into
class with cans of gin & lemonade, and everyone thought it was hilarious!
But for me, it was to feel that confidence I have when I am drinking.
Surprisingly, we passed the presentation, even in our states but a pass was good
enough for me.
Little
Voice Box of Horrors
Over the years, I have done many things to attempt to lower the pitch of
my voice. Currently, none have worked. Even the inevitable didn’t work, the day
my voice broke. Believe it or not, my voice was even higher than it is now. I
joke about it and say, “it was like a chipmunk on helium” to mask my
insecurities. I was overcome with joy and excitement when it started breaking.
I thought this would be the start of me, and all the comments would stop and I
would finally be/feel normal. I remember
calling my mother and sister to the top of the stairs to show them, “nature is
finally taking its course” I would repeat over and over in my excitement.
However, once my voice settled, there was not much change and was still
high-pitched. I became very disappointed and depressed that the thing I had
been waiting for [puberty] had let me down, so I did other things to try and
lower the pitch of my voice.
Looking back on the things I tried to lower the pitch of my voice, they
seem insane. Before situations like interviews, I would cough excessively, trying
to force damage to my voice so it would sound lower; like it does when you have
a cold. I would drink boiling water to burn my throat to try and make my voice
have hoarseness. The most memorable thing I tried was hypnotherapy. I remember
watching an episode of Friends and Chandler attempts to quit smoking. He is
listening to a tape while he is sleeping, and this helps him to quit smoking. I
saw this and thought it would be the answer to my prayers. So, I recorded a passage
to put on repeat while I slept. I can’t remember the full passage, but I
remember it ended with “you will sound like a boy”. I would sleep with
earphones in, listening to myself; telling myself that I would wake up with a
deeper voice. However, after many nights attempting hypnotherapy, my dreams of
a deep voice never materialised.
The longest one was smoking, although this one correlates with my
desperate need to fit in during high-school. I was smoking to lower the pitch
of my voice. I remember seeing those smoking adverts that would inform the
dangers of smoking and damage to the larynx was one of them. Smoking from a
very young age, I must have been around 13, and I can confirm after 8 years of
smoking my voice never changed.
Another thing I do to lower the pitch of my voice is talking with a
vocal fry. I was watching Ugly Betty, and the actress who plays Amanda spoke
with a vocal fry. So, I began speaking with one. It seemed to lower the pitch
of my voice and added a distraction at the same time. It was blissful. I
thought no one would notice the pitch of my voice as they would be distracted
by the vocal fry.
Change is a Powerful Thing
It is not all doom and gloom. In 2015, I began my journey to get what
I’ve always wanted, a deep voice. I waited for my 20th birthday as instructed
by a previous doctor. The doctor told me I needed to be this age to have
hormone tests, as the hormone levels are stable after puberty. I later found
out by a new doctor that this was not the case and I could’ve started whenever;
it felt like I had wasted time, but I was determined to begin now. He
issued me to have hormone tests, and the results of my first one showed that I
had high levels of the female hormone – progesterone. I felt relieved. It was
like I had an answer to my problems and I had an excuse for sounding feminine.
However, after 2 follow up tests, my hormone levels were normal.
Following the results of my hormone tests, I had speech therapy. This
was an exciting chapter of my life, before being a great disappointment. I
began optimistically, thinking it would be a new beginning of my life. Prior to
this, I was severely depressed and in a downward spiral, but as I was becoming
mentally stable again, it felt like a fresh start and the emergence of a new version
of myself. Several sessions later, there was little to no change. On my last
session, I was played the recording from my first session, and I could hear
there was not much of a difference. Although, a few noticed a difference in my
voice and saw a growth in my confidence; it still didn’t feel like a permanent
solution as my voice was still high-pitched.
Through speech therapy, I have become more accepting of my voice, even
if I do feel insecure about it. I don’t let it inhibit me as much as it did growing
up. Working in an LGBTQ+ venue helped my confidence too, surrounded by people
in the same community and by people who cared for me was comforting. I felt
protected and safe whenever I was there – it felt like home. I never imagined
growing up that I would’ve had a job as public as hospitality, as I couldn’t
see myself interacting with people. But I am glad I did because I wouldn’t have
the confidence I have now.
The next step is to see a specialist, and I am on February 18th, 2019. I
am hoping this will result in a thyroplasty, a surgery to cut the tight muscles
surrounding the larynx resulting in a deeper voice. This journey has been a
long one, but I finally feel it is coming to an end. This affliction I’ve had
since adolescence could be gone, and I’ll finally have the voice I’ve always
dreamed of.