Stella Pollock

Family is my central pillar. It is the one thing that will never falter. Each of us carries our own song, our own rhythm, and our own story, but together we are a symphony. Music is another language of connection for us. Each of us carries our own song. My song is “Ho Hey.” My brothers’ Henry and Max songs are “Sweet Child O' Mine” and “Moses.” My mom’s song is “Sad Lisa,” and my dad’s song is “Just in Time.”

Music has always been a map. Certain songs can bring me back instantly to a place, a person, or a version of myself. “Riptide” reminds me of camp friends and summer freedom. “Maps” brings me back to a specific summer surrounded by people I loved. “Bye Bye Brooklyn” and “Dreams” take me back to my old school in Brooklyn and all the memories tied to that chapter of my life. Music does not just remind me of what happened. It reminds me of how it felt.

At the beginning of my fourth-grade year at Saint Andrew’s School, the performing arts department had everyone try out for choir, dance, orchestra, and band. As soon as I stepped into the band room, I knew this was where I belonged. I picked up the French Horn and made a small, shaky note, and from that moment on, I quickly discovered a passion that has stayed with me ever since.

One of the most defining moments in my musical journey came when I decided to participate in Solo & Ensemble, a music event where students perform prepared pieces for judges. I remember walking into my French horn teacher Ms. Aspinwall’s room and asking if this was a possibility. It was a major leap from rarely practicing to committing to an immense amount of hours daily. The high expectations that were set did not make me back down; in fact, it made me push harder. After countless hours of practice through ups and downs, I felt a rhythm.

When the final scores came out, I was with Ms. Nichols, the symphonic band director, along with Ms. Aspinwall and my mom. It was one of the most nerve-wracking moments I have ever experienced because by then the French horn had become such a major part of my life; that score was not just a number. It was proof of how far I had come.

Then I saw the word: Superior.

In that moment, I felt relief, happiness, and pride all at once. Every lesson, every hour of practice, every frustrating moment, and every time I pushed myself instead of giving up had carried me there.

It reminded me of Robert Frost’s idea of taking “the road less traveled.” Choosing the French horn was not just choosing an instrument. It was choosing a path that felt different, uncertain, and entirely my own. I did not know where it would lead me, but I understood that the path I had chosen helped me discover confidence, discipline, and a voice I did not know I had.

Her Music was born from the belief that girls deserve spaces where they feel confident, supported, and seen in music. Sometimes girls are not discouraged directly, but they do not see enough other girls doing it. That absence creates a chain reaction. Fewer girls start, fewer girls stay, and fewer girls lead.

Music is not just about talent; it is about courage. It is about finding your voice. It is about walking into a room, choosing an instrument, and deciding that you deserve to be heard. Her Music becomes a way for other girls to find confidence, community, and courage.

Each of us carries our own song. Her Music is about making sure every girl knows hers deserves to be played.