I've been meaning to write something about this for ages now.
If you go to this site: http://www.ent-consult.com/voiceproblems.html you will see some very hardline advice to singers: Gregarious behaviour can be dangerous. Do not delude yourself. Just stop the social talking.
But in Trinidad and Tobago, where I am from, if you follow this advice wanting to be a serious singer you can run up some serious social costs. Why? For social cohesion rituals, the average Trinbagonian expects you to talk, and talk loudly enough for you to be heard by them, no matter: 1) how far away they are, 2) how high the volume of their car radio is, 3) how loudly the bar or party music is being played, or 4) how terrible are the acoustics of the room in which you both happen to be. Most Trinbagonians have no clue what it costs to sing your best past the age of 25 if your day job is teaching and you haven't had a vocal coach all your life so your technique is both excellent and on autopilot.
Let's start from the moment of wakeup.
Your mother, concerned for your punctuality as a commuting employee, *thinks* she is waking you up. She starts your day by knocking on your door and disrupting your blissful early morning silence. If you don't respond loudly enough to convince her you are awake, she will not stop knocking. So before your voice even gets a chance to wake up, warm up, before you're even fully awake, able to take a deep breath and support your voice with diaphragmatic breathing, you're giving your night-dried vocal folds work to do.
Every taxi you enter after getting ready and leaving home (I have to take 3), you are obligated to say "Good morning", which by itself is not bad, except that if you say it softly so as to preserve and reserve your delicate pipes, no one answers you. They act like you said it to no one. I have heard people say: "Who she feel she telling morning? She foot?" So you feel disconnected if you don't disconnect from your dream to take ultra good care of your vocal folds en route to becoming the best damn singer you could possibly be. This should not be, IMO.
Then you get to work, which again sees everyone telling you an individual good morning and expecting you to say it back. Niceties are often expected, even banter. I have tried to enter the staff room and say nothing once no one sees me; but, bless their hearts, they find you and tell you good morning anyway. No matter how dearly you wish otherwise, the obligation to talk (audibly, of course) never ends.
If you just smile and say nothing, it will be assumed by your colleagues: 'like we have words or wha?' Or if they guess that you are preserving your voice and hear you teaching or talking to anyone afterwards (they know nothing about the changing readiness of the voice for vocal work as the day progresses and they wouldn't automatically think about how different acoustic environments pose different risk levels to the voice), they feel slighted by you, or that you are self-important: we all do it, why can't she?
You go into class to teach, which, like skinning a cat, can be done in many ways, yet some children are so decidedly not socialised to read body language or other non-verbal cues that they tell you plainly: "Miss, I don't understand sign language." To see how lost they can become without the spoken word, one wonders what they would do in a game of charades. Children of today...but let me catch myself before I digress.
It is difficult to say the least, to become a great singer in Trinidad and Tobago if you are in a voice-hazard profession and you are not protected (either by owning your own vehicle, or being chauffered by a quiet driver) from the obligation to talk to everyone you meet from morning until night.
Resting the voice, being silent while in close contact with society, simply seems rude to Trinbagonians, who would not readily read or appreciate a note saying: "Won't speak. Resting voice now". This would mean you would have to explain to every person in your path by speaking why you wouldn't want to speak, which would defeat the purpose of such a note.
I tried that last parents' day. I wrote a note about resting my voice, but I still had to talk, because the parents expected that; all the other teachers were talking. So I still experienced throat pain at the end, although I left earlier and spoke less and less loudly than I had done the previous year. It hurt less though. I'll try harder next time. Something's got to give, and it won't be my singing dreams! (NS: Nzinga Sibongile. NS: Never Surrender.)
Now keep in mind I am a very bull-headed (or pig- or goat- or elephant-headed; any stubborn animal you prefer) singer who doesn't smoke, and rarely drinks. Imagine the pressure for singers expected not only to talk, but to tolerate second-hand smoke or pressure to smoke, and drink.
Based on these cultural patterns, including producing loud, raucous laughter (great strain on vocal folds also) as a requirement for what is perceived to be genuine connection in some social circles, I highly doubt Trinbago is disposed to produce the best singers possible to itself. Maybe we think what the soca stars do is enough (getting hoarse every Carnival because no one will just let them shut up in between singing gigs, although this trend is changing), but anyyone watching any talent competition or music festival here knows Trinbago has a lot more to offer vocally. And so do I!
Peace and quiet, y'all. Singers need it.