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A Letter To My Body

I have been overweight my whole life. I cannot imagine a time in my life where I have ever liked my body or even loved it. After decades of bullying from kids and even doctors, I had become numb to comments about my body. I began to avoid thinking about my weight or my body. I started to hate my body and blame it for every hardship in my life. I blamed myself for all the abuse I received and…

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New Beginnings: From A Very Impatient Me

Okay, I consider myself to be a very patient person. I mean, I’m a social worker for a mental health non-profit for goodness sake. However, when I want something I can tend to slightly obsess until I have it in my grasp. I can get in to these fits of obsession over hobbies, crafts, foods, and of course THINGS. While I tend to blame this all on my ADHD, I’m still left with the consequences of my…

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Everybody Hates Me - A Journey Through ✨Imposter Syndrome✨

Imposter Syndrome : a psychological condition that is characterized by persistent doubt concerning one’s abilities or accomplishments accompanied by the fear of being exposed as a fraud despite evidence of one’s ongoing success. – Miriam Webster Definition I have struggled through imposter syndrome my entire life. Through my studies, my career, and even normal every day things. I would think “I…

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I fought a raccoon...

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(via What Are You Avoiding?) 

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Atonement (2007) dir. Joe Wright

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…In the end, Billie Holiday’s insistence on performing “Strange Fruit” may have been responsible for her demise.

One of the primary attempts to silence her came from a man named Harry Anslinger, the first commissioner for the Federal Bureau of Narcotics, and an extreme racist, even for the 1930s. As Johann Hari details in Chasing the Scream: The First and Last Days of the War on Drugs, Anslinger claimed that narcotics made black people forget their place in the fabric of American society, and that jazz musicians were dangerous in particular, creating “Satanic” music under the influence of marijuana.

Holiday, who throughout her career called public attention to the devastating impact of white supremacy, was also a drug user.  She drew Anslinger’s notice, and he ordered Holiday to cease performing the song. Holiday refused, and Anslinger ramped up his efforts to silence her.

After one of Anslinger’s men was paid to track Holiday and frame her with buying and using heroin, she spent eighteen months in prison. Upon her release in 1948, the federal government refused to renew her cabaret performer’s license, mandatory for any performer playing or singing at any club or bar serving alcohol.

This utterly undermined her career. Although Holiday was able to perform multiple sold-out Carnegie Hall performances over the next several years, she could no longer travel the nightclub circuit.

Unable to perform regularly at the venues she loved, and to stop remembering a childhood that included being raped at age ten, and working in a brothel with her mother, Holiday eventually began using heroin again.  When she checked into a New York hospital in 1959, her liver was failing and cancerous. She was emaciated, and her heart and lungs were compromised. Despite her condition, she didn’t want to stay there. “They’re going to kill me. They’re going to kill me in there. Don’t let them,” she presciently told friends and family.

Indeed, Anslinger’s men, sensing a macabre opportunity, showed up at her hospital bedside, handcuffed her to the bed, took mugshots, removed giftsthat people had brought to the room—flowers, radio, record player, chocolates, magazines—and stationed two cops at the door.

Even so, as doctors began methadone treatment, Holiday began to improve, gaining some weight and improving slowly. But then Anslinger’s men prevented hospital staff from administering any further methadone. She succumbed to death within days.

The only surviving filmed version of Holiday performing the song is from the British cabaret television show, “Chelsea At Nine,” recorded February 25, 1959 and released in March of the same year, just a few months before she died. Her voice is strong and impressive; the raw emotion simply devastating.

From their infancy in the US, drug laws and enforcement have been about controlling and murdering Black people. 

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Dear Diary, my teen-angst bullshit now has a body count. Heathers (1988) dir. Michael Lehmann

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Daphne Groeneveld in Issue Magazine No.18 by Zoey Grossman