“So….do you still play the violin?”

Recently, people have been asking me this a lot, and I’ll be honest with you, it kind of pisses me off.

My reaction to that question is visceral: defensive, angry, defiant. And a little scared. Because, dammit, I didn’t give up my childhood and every fun thing to be a violinist and have it called into question now.

I’m also aware that my outsized reaction to this question also reveals my own insecurities. Because if someone is asking me if I’m still a violinist, it’s a pretty innocent question, right? I mean, I should be able to say, yes, without needing to prove it.

Lately, I’ve been wondering, why do I feel the need to prove it? And why, just because I’m doing something else in addition to playing the violin, are people so confused?

It seems like it’s difficult to process that I do multiple things. For example, I play the violin (yes, I still do) and yes, I also write.

It’s made me wonder why this seems so difficult to understand?

Do you ever feel like if you aren't doing music with 100% focus, then you aren't a serious musician? Maybe it's not something your friends or colleagues say explicitly, but somehow, you feel it or sense it?

I think it's because classical music - like ballet or ice skating or gymnastics, perhaps -- demands monastic devotion.

Listen to this episode for why I think something about classical music training might keep us stuck in one identity and makes us afraid to try new things.