Dear friend 💜,
I can’t believe it’s already May! Everything is finally green and growing in Iowa, and the light feels so magical and bright.
I just got back from a long road trip—driving across the country with my keyboard to attend a music conference and perform. Driving out, I was recovering from being sick and was just happy to sit and rest, but on the way back I spent many hours just pondering, and I found myself thinking about education and access.
Partly because the conference was aimed at educating folks new to the recording music industry, and partly because my oldest is about to be a senior, and we’ve been deep in college visits and applications, trying to figure out this whole process—which honestly feels so complex I can’t imagine how a student would tackle it without support.
And I kept coming back to how powerful education really is… how much of our lives are shaped by what we have access to learn, and why I feel so passionate about it.
I always say my ability to teach is in my bones. I think it stems way back to my ancestors.
My paternal grandfather grew up dirt poor in a sharecropping family in Arkansas. By the time he was in high school, he was already preaching in local churches. He got married young and spent years as a Baptist preacher while squeezing in college courses here and there—but he was largely self-taught, and eventually his theological beliefs felt more aligned with the Presbyterian church. Baptists didn’t require seminary at that time, but Presbyterians required four full years of theological education. My grandfather was so well-read that the Presbyterian committee examined him for three days, and they were so impressed they ordained him without requiring him to attend seminary. I still remember his study overflowing with books.
And then there’s my maternal grandmother, who went to college to be a social worker—always learning, always curious, ahead of her time. She was the one who made sure each of her children could match pitch, because her husband couldn’t. When each child was little, she would sit them on her lap, sing a note, and teach them to sing it back. One by one. All four of them. If it weren’t for her—who also encouraged me to sing my first solo—I know I would not be who I am today.
And as I’ve been sitting with all of this, I keep coming back to this realization that so much of how we live and what we carry as frustration or even shame… isn’t actually about us. It’s about what we were—or weren’t—taught.
I see this so clearly in my work. Someone comes into my studio believing they can’t sing, believing something is wrong with their voice, and within a short time, once they begin to understand how the voice actually works, something shifts. Not because they suddenly became someone different, but because they realize no one ever showed them.
I can look at them and say, this is not a character flaw—it’s an education gap. And education gaps can be filled.
There is something so powerful that happens in that moment, when the shame starts to lift. When they realize… it’s not your fault.
And the more I think about it, the more I see how far beyond singing this goes. Who gets access to education, to guidance, to someone who can help them navigate complicated systems? Who even knows what questions to ask, or who is safe to ask them? And who doesn’t?
I’ve been thinking about this a lot as I’ve been traveling and performing, and also just trying to navigate life in all of its layers. Even when I have access to resources, I still feel limited by time. There are so many things I want to learn, and even when I can find the information, there isn’t always space to actually move through it. And when you add in money, time, parenthood, and all the responsibilities we carry, it becomes clear how high those barriers really are.
And I know that the barriers are extremely high for someone to be able to walk into my studio, which is why I’ve started writing a book, Coming Home to Our Voice. It’s a book centered around voice and empowerment, helping people understand that they are not broken—they just haven’t been given the tools yet. And I can’t wait to share more of that journey with you as it unfolds.
It is my deepest hope that it will reach the people who most need to hear that their voice matters, that it was never their fault, and that the world needs to hear what they have to say.
As all of this has been sitting with me, a song I performed last weekend—Burning Cages, which I wrote in February after the Minnesota protests—has been circling in my head.
The song came from this realization that before we can change anything—before we can dismantle systems or patterns that are holding us in place—we first have to be able to see them. We can’t set fire to something we don’t even know is there.
Can’t set fire to what you cannot see
The pain is the flame that will set us free
And I think so often we’re taught to move away from discomfort, to quiet it, to push it aside. But what if that discomfort is actually showing us something? What if it’s illuminating the very cages we’ve been living in… the ones we were never taught to see?
And maybe part of the work right now is simply helping each other see. Sharing what we know, breaking things down into something more accessible, offering small pieces of understanding that might open a door for someone else. Because when you really look at it, even something as simple as “teaching someone to fish” isn’t simple at all. It requires tools, guidance, time, and support—and without those things, the gap just keeps widening.
I feel incredibly aware of how much I’ve been given in my own life, and that awareness keeps bringing me back to the same place: a desire to give back in whatever ways I can. To continue finding ways to help people access their voices, their understanding, and their own sense of freedom and expression. And I am so privileged to get to share my artistic expression with you!
A couple of things to celebrate this month—my Tiny Desk video of Exhale of Peace got a shoutout from Iowa Public Radio in a feature on Iowa musicians, which made my heart so happy! And that song will be coming out as a single in June and above is the artwork. I cannot wait for you to listen:)
If you live in the Iowa area, I am presenting a concert on Sunday at 3, and I would LOVE for you to share an afternoon of music with me.
Thank you for being here and for being part of this journey. One voice at a time.
With love and light,
Mary Jane 💜
P.S. If this resonated, would you share it with one person who might need to hear it?
Iowa Local Opportunities!
Sunday May 3rd: 3pm-MJ Public Concert @ Unitarian Church IC
Sunday May 3rd: 7pm-Knightingale Studio Concert @ Riverside
The June calendar is set so if you would like to book sessions this summer, you can do that now. I will not be teaching the month of July but will be back in August for lessons.
And as always, please reach out with any questions!
💜Mj
