Lucy Shannon

When I was five, I pressed my fingers on the keys of an old upright piano in our living room. The sound was uneven and slightly out of tune, but to me, it was magical. My mam says I banged out the same four notes a hundred times that day, and when my dad came home, I played them for him like they were a masterpiece. He cried. Back then, I didn’t understand why.

Three years into music college here in Dublin, Ireland, I can say I’ve moved beyond four notes. I’m 23 now, and piano is not just a passion—it’s my future. I practice every day, even on the tough days when my back aches from scoliosis, or when my energy is low because of my heart condition. The thing is, music doesn’t judge. It doesn’t care that I have Down syndrome. It asks only for my commitment, and I’ve given it everything.

There was a time when I couldn’t say that about people. School was hell, and the cruel comments weren’t whispers; they were shouts. The looks I got walking down the street were enough to make me want to disappear some days. But that was before I learned to carry myself with pride. I’m stronger now, and I walk into every room like I belong. Because I do.

My parents taught me that. Mam’s unwavering belief in me kept me going, and Dad—well, he’s the quiet kind of strong. When I was born, the doctor told them I’d have a “difficult life.” Mam told me recently that Dad went to bed and cried for days, thinking he’d failed before he’d even begun. But he got up. He decided to be my champion, and he’s never stopped. They both told me last week how proud they are to have me as their daughter, and honestly, it broke me a little—in the best way.

Still, I wish the world didn’t need so much convincing. People with Down syndrome don’t need pity or extra kindness; we need respect. I don’t want to be someone’s inspiration just for existing. I want to be recognized for my talent, my humor, my flaws, and my stubborn streak. I want people to look at me and see a whole person.

For now, though, I focus on the piano. When I play, the world feels exactly as it should be—full of grace, rhythm, and harmony. It’s what I hold on to, and what I hope to share.