A chronicle of a stage debut, between vanishing stage fright and family camaraderie.
It is 7.15 pm on Tuesday 28 April 2026, in the heart of Lausanne. The subdued lighting of the Tacos Bar envelops the sixty or so people gathered there that evening. The aroma of Mexican cuisine wafts through the air, cutting through the constant hubbub – that characteristic background noise of a bustling establishment. Glasses clink, conversations mingle and the audience receive their first orders. Near the stage, Marc, from the Duke’s la scène association, welcomes the crowd alongside Apolline’s team. This is the second Open Mic of the year organised by the school.
Amidst the hustle and bustle, a voice rises. It is Yuhan’s first time on stage, and she is performing ‘Girl on Fire’. Listening to her, I am immediately struck by her ability to take her place on stage with such natural ease. I’m touched by her courage in front of this ‘bar-crowd’ (though made up mostly of friends and family) and, I must admit, frankly impressed by the power of her voice. When she hits very high notes, she instinctively moves the microphone away from herself to prevent the volume from overwhelming the room.
Applause rings out. Yuhan returns to her table, surrounded by her family. The recorder is placed between us, picking up the background noise of the bar.
“One, two, one, two. Is it recording? There, perfect.”
Sitting opposite me, Yuhan, aged nine and a half, has caught her breath. A pupil at Apolline since the start of this school year, she isn’t content just with singing with her teacher Sandrina; she also practises figure skating and drawing. But when I ask her where this desire to take to the stage with a microphone comes from, her answer has the simplicity of childhood: “I just like singing. ” Then she adds, searching for the right words: “Because there are lots of people who sing and I like that, so I’d like to sing like them.”
This vocal talent doesn’t seem to be merely a family trait. Her mother, who is here tonight, assures me she doesn’t sing well. Her father, standing right beside her, smiles and describes his own singing as “even worse”.
Yet Yuhan has been singing for a long time. “She was born in the Netherlands and started singing at the age of five. Then, at five and a half, she went on stage for the first time, but she hasn’t had the chance since,” her mother explains. The episode of moving the microphone away during the high notes is, incidentally, no coincidence tonight. Her mother explains, with the hesitation of someone recalling a specific memory: “It’s because this is only the second time she’s sung. The first time, right here in January, the sound engineer had to turn the volume down. We explained to her that she needed to lower the volume of her voice.” Yuhan confirms this, very pragmatic about her own voice: “When I sing really high, I move the microphone away a bit because otherwise it would be too loud.”
Yet, despite this impressive technical mastery, Yuhan doesn’t escape the famous butterflies in the stomach before going on stage. Just before performing that first song, she confides: “I was a bit nervous and excited at the same time.” But once in the spotlight, immersed in the music, the fear gave way. “… the nervousness disappeared; I felt nothing but excitement,” she explains.
Her trick for easing the pressure? Looking for a familiar face. That face belongs to her brother. She carefully spells out his name for my notebook: X-U-A-N. He was the one who filmed her performance tonight. What helped her relax was simply “seeing my brother filming me.” ”
In her practice, Yuhan chooses the tracks she likes herself by browsing YouTube. A huge fan of Blackpink, she then suggests her finds to Sandrina. The teacher describes her pupil with great affection, mentioning her touching sense of humour and infectious joie de vivre.
Time is ticking away, and the moment for her second performance is approaching. The atmosphere at the Tacos Bar remains lively. This time, Yuhan is going to perform ‘Better When I’m Dancin’’. The apprehension she felt at the start of the evening has completely vanished. She says she’s ‘really excited’ and confirms she no longer feels nervous at all.
I then ask her parents for permission to take a few photos during this second performance, which they agree to. I promise to send them the link to the article once it’s written, to keep a record of this shared moment.
Just before she heads off to get ready under the bar’s spotlights, I ask her how she’s feeling right now. She chooses a single word: “Cool.”