A Florida native, Tamara's talents cover Theater, Dance, and Singing.

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My flaming cheeks would quickly attract my classmate’s attention. ” someone would laughingly shout out, and my face would turn even redder.

My timid nature intensified after the passing of my brother when I was a young girl. But I could never talk about it with any of my friends. Sometimes I wanted to talk so much I thought I would burst, but I just couldn’t.

The words, along with all my pain, remained locked inside me. I sang all the time in front of my bedroom mirror, hairbrush in hand, imagining I was singing on stage to a devoted audience.

I wore the mask of a smiling, golden girl and nobody saw the real me. If I didn’t share my dreams then they could never get shattered. In reality, if I knew there was someone within listening range, I couldn’t even sing a single note.

I can’t say I’m ready for a spotlight solo yet, but we’ve already performed in our first show in front of a thousand women…and there was not a hairbrush in sight! I realized the impact I could make by reaching out and bringing comfort to others.

Reaching Out It was around the same time when I decided to attend a writing seminar. So I decided to share my article across the globe on

We each had to prepare a piece of work -- something personal, something that affected us deeply. And now I feel like I’m finally allowing myself to become me. At last, I am venturing out of the safety of my cocoon and my wings are finally opening.

My thoughts, feelings and dreams were kept firmly locked inside myself. This was the story of my life until just a few months ago. “My brother died when I was little.” I heard myself say.

I was taking my baby for a walk when I happened to see an advertisement for the Jerusalem Women’s Choir. ” I knew he was right, but the thought of calling some strange woman, auditioning for some scary choir and singing in front of real people terrified me. But while I was writing my article, I bumped into a girl who had recently lost her mother. “I know I can’t even imagine what you’re going through,” I continued, “but if you ever want to talk, I’m here for you.” And she did.