What to Do When Your Choir Doesn’t "Do" Mental Health

​If you’re leading a choir where “mental health” still feels like a dirty word, or worse, where it’s openly mocked or dismissed, you’re not alone.

Maybe you’ve tried to bring in a bit of breathwork at the start of rehearsal and been met with polite silence. Maybe your singers roll their eyes when you mention burnout. Maybe they think that if someone’s overwhelmed, they should just “get on with it.” Maybe you’re the one holding all the pastoral weight, quietly absorbing the emotions in the room, and wondering how on earth to introduce conversations that feel timely and necessary - but unpopular.

This is exactly the case with a community choir I work with. A lovely, friendly, long-running daytime choir, mostly made up of singers over the age of 70, many of whom come from what you might call the “stiff-upper-lip” generation. They value tradition. They like their routine. They’ve weathered storms, lost friends, sung through tears - and they don’t need anyone coming in with that emotional nonsense, thank you very much. During one discussion, one member even told me that the term “mental health” is overused and "almost encourages people to have something wrong with them.”

Don't get me wrong, I love working with this choir.  But the reaction of some members to my usual way of doing and explaining things just doesn't seem to sit the same.  And one day, in Mental Health Awareness week, we had a chat about it.  But here’s what’s interesting: once we gently reframed what mental health actually is, things started to shift.

Here’s what I've learned.

Lesson 1: Understand the Resistance

​Before you jump right in and try to fix the culture, take a moment to recognise where the resistance might be coming from. It’s not usually cruelty, it’s not even ignorance. More often, it’s fear, discomfort, unfamiliarity or just different. And sometimes, it's deep, unacknowledged pain.

For many older singers (and plenty of younger ones, too), “mental health” conjures up images of breakdowns, institutions, or weakness. It doesn’t necessarily bring to mind resilience, self-awareness, or community care. So, the first step isn’t to educate, it’s to translate.
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What you’re really talking about when you say “mental health” in a choir is:

• How we handle stress together
• How we treat each other when someone’s having a bad day
• What we do when someone is overwhelmed
• How we recover after a performance or an emotional rehearsal
• How we make room for both joy and vulnerability in the room.
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When you reframe it that way, most choirs are already doing a version of mental-health support- they just don’t call it that.

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Lesson 2: Start with Safety, Not Therapy

One of the biggest mistakes choir leaders make (with the best of intentions!) is trying to bring in mental-health practices that feel therapeutic, but instead come across as invasive.
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Instead of talking about trauma or vulnerability, start with predictability and permission. These are the building blocks of emotional safety. For example:

• Have a printed rehearsal plan on the wall so singers know what’s coming next
• Start rehearsals with a simple “check-in” gesture - thumbs up/down, coloured cards, a breathing moment - or whatever works for your particular group
• Disguise a mental-health exercise as a singing exercise (my singers really enjoy when we go outside to practise our breathing - after all, good singing starts with good breathing.  Technique for them, regulation time for me.  Bingo!)
• Build in regular breaks and encourage people to step out without having to explain or be called out
• Give permission to sing softly, mark, or sit down when needed - and model it yourself.

This isn’t therapy: it’s just common decency.

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Lesson 3: Tweak the Language (Without Losing the Message)

The choir I work with doesn't respond well to phrases like “safe space” or “emotional wellbeing.” But they absolutely understand “taking care of each other,” “looking out for our own,” and “making the room a bit more manageable for everyone.”  That's the bonus of being part of a generation used to looking after your neighbours.
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So, I gradually changed the language to something more familiar.  You don’t have to water down your values, but you can change the delivery. Consider:

• “Let’s build a steady rehearsal culture” instead of “let’s talk mental health”
• “Let’s make this space more supportive” instead of “trauma-informed”
• “Small changes that make a big difference” instead of “inclusion work”.
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This isn’t selling out, it’s meeting people where they are - and it works (trust me!).

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Lesson 4: Share the Load

​A choir leader I spoke to online felt totally alone in her desire to shift her choir culture. She was exhausted, overextended, and quietly carrying the emotional weight of the entire group. If that’s you: pause, take a breath. This isn’t your responsibility to fix single-handedly.  I'm lucky, because all my choirs also have a deputy conductor so I have someone to bounce off and to share the weight.  But if you're running things on your own,

Can you form a mini “wellbeing team” or singer care group?
Can you invite one or two trusted members to co-develop ideas with you?
Could your accompanist or section leaders hold some of the emotional weight?

Even just sharing your intentions with the group – “I’d love us to be a choir that supports each other through life’s hard bits, too” - can plant a seed, and soon you'll notice your members start checking in on one another, without you needing to prompt.

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Lesson 5: Show, don't Preach

In my honest conversation with my choir, I didn’t deliver a workshop or give a lecture. I asked questions and, when they answered, I listened. We had an informal chat followed by coffee, and gradually, singers started opening up.  I was amazed at some of the things that came up and the personal, mental health stories they shared.

Soon, people who’d never used the term “mental health” were saying things like:
“It just feels easier to be here now.”
“I don’t feel like I have to keep up with everyone anymore.”
"This happened to me, when..."
“I like that I can step out or sit down if I need to.”

We started to make a few, small changes to how we worked.  And in response, the culture changed, not because I told them it should, but because we built something safer, together, one rehearsal at a time.

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In Conclusion: You don't need their Permission to lead Kindly

Not every singer will jump on board with mental health language. That’s OK. What matters is the culture you set, the permission you give, and the consistency you model.
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Your choir doesn’t have to be a therapy group (and it shouldn’t be) but it can be a place where humans are allowed to be humans, and different life experiences are treasured.

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​Ready to make Subtle - but Powerful - shifts in Your Choir Culture?

​If this post resonated with you - even just a little - you’re not alone. So many choir leaders are quietly navigating resistance, burnout, or singer overwhelm behind the scenes.

Whether you're ready to make small changes or you need help managing big conversations, I offer:

• 1:1 Strategy Sessions: personalised guidance, no judgment, just next steps
• Bespoke Inclusion & Mental Health Policy Templates, Risk Management Checklists and Singer Feedback Forms: written in plain, choir-friendly English (contact me)
• The Mentally Healthy Choir Toolkit: a practical download packed with scripts, support strategies, and rehearsal ideas
• The Harmonised Choir Audit: a gentle, expert-led review of your current choir culture and where to go next.

​Let’s make your choir a place where everyone can thrive, including you.