Why You Should Join a Choir

Last year, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something wasn’t right. My life was fine—wonderful, even—and yet mercurial feelings of anxiety, disconnect, and vague dread nagged me. Aside from the occasional car ride or shower, I didn’t sing much. But on a whim, I joined a secular community choir without knowing how to read music or having any real expectation beyond wanting to try singing under the guise of anonymity. Billed as “drinkers with a singing problem,” and more importantly, not requiring auditions, Choir League practice began with a happy hour before rolling into light-hearted rehearsals. As I softly sang the words of an old Appalachian hymn, “Am I born to die?” with over 100 other voices, standing amid a sea of people with diverse beliefs and backgrounds, I felt something unexpected and new to me—but that people have experienced for millennia. People have been singing together since the beginning. Early humans employed coordinated rhythmic chants for hunting and socializing. Oral storytelling was often delivered through song, whether via Greek chorus, work songs, or sea shanties. But this age-old tradition of communal singing saw a steep decline over the last century as the advent of radio, television, and recordings encouraged a passive, often individual consumption of music. Aside from religious settings or concerts, many Americans only experience group singing briefly and sporadically. Maybe while singing “Happy Birthday.”And yet, at this fraught moment when everyone is politically polarized, lonely, disillusioned, and cringe-averse, choirs are attracting a new generation of singers. Viral videos abound of one-day choirs where throngs of strangers huddle in warehouses as they gleefully sing Natasha Bedingfield or Tracy Chapman. People with dementia are finding joy singing together as their musical memory outlasts their ability to speak. Unhoused folks in San Diego have formed a chorus and created community. Why the choir camaraderie? One reason: singing together is a low-cost, inclusive activity. Plus, recent studies show that singing with others helps bolster social cohesion, as well as providing numerous physical benefits, from lowering blood pressure and cortisol levels to bolstering lung health. Group singing is on the rise, and it couldn’t have come at a better time. Dr. Frank Russo, a psychology Professor at Toronto Metropolitan University, who studies the science behind what happens physically, mentally, and to our sense of connection when we sing together, pointed to the recent World Cup as an example. “Thousands of people who may never have met are synchronizing their voices, movements, and attention around a shared identity. For a few minutes, they behave almost like a single coordinated social unit,” he says, explaining that by singing together, fans bolster their connection and collective identity. “People sing because they feel united, but the act of singing may make them feel more united.”This phenomenon also occurs outside of the stadium, at religious gatherings, vigils, and protests. Earlier this year, at the height of ICE violence in Minnesota, trending clips emerged of residents joining in songs of protest. Among them was Sarina Partridge. One of the co-founders of the Twin Cities Resistance Singers, Partridge’s musical path began when she was an elementary school teacher and noticed that if she had her classes sing, “It transformed them from a group of nervous kids into a community.” As a result, Partridge began studying resistance singing around the world in places like South Africa and Spain’s Basque Country and helped create a national toolkit for singing-centered public action. When Renee Good was killed by ICE, that toolkit was put to use. “It was unclear how to organize big actions because people were really afraid,” Partridge says. “But a big group of people singing is so much safer. It helps people feel safe, and I’ve observed singing to be literally disarming.”She remembers walking the frigid streets with crowds of singers. People fearfully hiding inside their homes came to their porches to listen, some even smiling. One person held a pet puppy to their window, creating a much-needed moment of levity and human connection. To be sure, group singing has long been a successful resistance tool, from protests against Apartheid in Cape Town, South Africa, to the marches for Civil Rights in Selma, Alabama. For instance, in 1989, Lithuania, Latvia, and Estonia helped overthrow the Soviet occupation after 2 million of their citizens joined hands to create an approximately 430-mile-long human chain spanning all three nations. They sang together for 15 minutes.“Political turmoil can produce uncertainty, stress, isolation, and a feeling that forces around us are much larger than we are. Singing doesn’t make those forces disappear,” explains Russo. “But singing together can change how people experience themselves in relation to them.” This is exactly why more people should consider joining a choir. The 2025 World Happiness Report ranked the United States with its lowest score ever, citing cost of living and political uncertainty. More than half of young Americans struggle with climate anxiety. A Pew Research survey found that 69% of Americans are dissatisfied with the state of their country. I understand this dissatisfaction. The world can feel undeniably bleak, without relief in sight. But last month, I piled into an Elks Lodge with my beloved Choir League on a sweltering Denver evening as smoke blanketed the Rocky Mountains. I clutched a cold drink and laughed with people I’d gotten to know over the last year. Accompanied by a local band, we sang four songs from the 90s, just for fun. I still wore anxiety like a stifling scarf around my neck. I still didn’t know how to read music and often sang the wrong notes. My shirt was damp with sweat. But as I belted the bridge of “Creep” by Radiohead as loud as I could, goosebumps prickled my arms. I heard my voice, its power buoyed by the might of every other voice behind me, and felt a sense of belonging. Singing together is an embodied, experiential way of understanding that nothing must be endured alone. And in that moment, joyfully vulnerable with folks who were no longer strangers but favorite new friends, everything was okay. Relief was not only in sight—it was in sound.