When I was in primary school, I auditioned for the school choir every single year. For five long years, I stood in front of Mr Russell, the choir teacher, nervously giving him my best version of whatever song he asked for. Each year, I was passed over. It took me those five years to realise Mr Russell was never going to select me, no matter how hard I tried.

That’s why it was such a delight to sit down for tea with Antoinette Raynal, a legend in our community and someone who passionately believes that everyone can sing. Antoinette’s philosophy flies in the face of the choir rejections I grew up with. In her world, voices are not just accepted but nurtured and celebrated, given the chance to grow and belong.

Antoinette greeted me warmly, her cup of tea in hand, and from the moment she began to speak, it was clear that music was more than a career or a hobby for her. It’s her essence. Our conversation unfolded like a melody, and every so often, she would illustrate her thoughts by breaking into song, her voice a mix of joy, warmth, and passion. It was impossible not to smile.

Antoinette’s story is extraordinary. After moving to the South Coast without knowing many people, she decided to hold a vocal workshop. That single event blossomed into the Katandra Women’s A Cappella Choir. The name “Katandra” itself is deeply meaningful, originating from a Gurangai word meaning song of the birds. It reflects the harmony and connection that music brings, something Antoinette has infused into every aspect of her choir.

"Everyone can sing," she told me, her conviction unwavering. "Singing is a skill, not a secret. Once people understand how their voice works, they can take charge of their improvement and confidence builds naturally."

Katandra have initiated many major musical community events - The Big Swing, a dance and song evening, South Coast Sings a collaborative choir performance and workshop experience, Songs of Joy, carols events. All proceeds from each Katandra event are donated to local charities. “It’s our way of supporting and appreciating the community we live in.” she says.

Over tea, Antoinette shared anecdotes of flash mob performances in museums and restaurants, where her choir spontaneously broke into song. "We’ve sung to waiters at restaurants, in galleries, and even in places like the Australian Art Gallery’s Sky Dome . It’s about bringing joy into unexpected spaces," she said with a twinkle in her eye.

But the Katandra choir is about so much more than music. Under Antoinette’s guidance, it has become a thriving community. Members have formed sub-groups like book clubs, walking collectives, and veggie gardening teams. "The choir is a springboard for connection. It’s so rewarding to see friendships blossom and people find their place."

She spoke about Kalia, a young woman who joined under the free student sponsorship programme at just 16. Musically inexperienced and unsure of herself, Kalia blossomed

under Antoinette’s mentorship and the choir’s encouragement, eventually leading the junior choirs at her own school and gaining early entry into university to study music education. "Seeing her grow into her own voice—it’s so satisfying, her achievement reminds me of the richness music gives to a person on so many levels!” Antoinette said.

At one point, I asked her what makes the choir work? She paused thoughtfully before replying, "The music is there, but what makes it work is the sum of us. It’s the trust, the camaraderie, and the generosity we bring to each other. I always remind the choir: I’d be lonely standing up here by myself. This is the power of collaboration."

As the interview wrapped up, I reflected on the stark contrast between Antoinette and Mr Russell. Where he dismissed and discouraged, Antoinette inspires and uplifts. She gives everyone who crosses her path hope that their voice matters, that they belong, and that they are capable of more than they ever believed.

I may never fully get over Mr Russell and his insistence that I couldn’t sing. That little girl’s hurt will always linger. But spending time with Antoinette gave me something else, a glimpse of what the world could look like if we all had someone like her in our corner. A world where kindness and belief could lift even the most timid of voices. A world where everyone, whether they can sing or not, feels like they belong.