As you may know, “making a way out of no way” is a popular African American phrase that points to the creativity and tenacity of people in the face of oppression. In the National African American Museum of History and Culture in Washington D.C., the phrase is used as the title of an exhibit that illustrates a long history of activism and resistance. Using case studies, the exhibit explores how African Americans have found a way out of no way through education, health, religion, business, and more.
In the museum, there is also an extraordinary exhibit of African American musicians. Moving through this vast exhibit, I was humbled to consider both the many names I recognized and the many I did not. In honor of African American History Month, this series will focus on African American women musicians: Billie Holiday, Marian Anderson, and Aretha Franklin.
Singer Billie Holiday is the focus of our first installment. Holiday broke new ground as one of the first African American women to perform with white artists. Known affectionately as “Lady Day,” Holiday is remembered as “the pre-eminent jazz singer of her day and among the most revered vocalists of the [twentieth] century,” according to the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame. Among her many hits, the anti-racism song, “Strange Fruit,” remains an enduring part of her legacy.
In 1937, New York City teacher Abel Meeropol wrote the lyrics of “Strange Fruit” after seeing a photograph of two men, Thomas Shipp and Abe Smith, who had been cruelly lynched. Although lynching was declining in America by 1937, it had by no means disappeared. Meeropol set his words to music and began to sing it as a protest song. The song made its way to Billie Holiday, who began to close her set with the song. After her primary label refused to record the controversial song, Holiday recorded “Strange Fruit” under the Commodore label in 1939.
When Holiday performed the song, the lights would be dropped except for a single light on her face to show her expression. As the instrumental opening began, she would close her eyes as if in a prayer. Then, with emotion, she would begin to sing.
At the end of the song, the spotlight would go dark. When the houselights came up, Holiday was gone. No encore. Instead, the audience would be left feeling a swirl of emotion and, likely, discomfort. For too many African Americans, lynching or the fear of lynching, was their experience. This is part of our history, our legacy. The evocative song will not let us forget.
On stage, Holiday poured her own heartbreak and struggles with racism, sexism, poverty, and abuse into her haunting performance of the song. While her tremendous voice brought her widespread admiration, she also struggled with alcohol and drug abuse. In the end, this struggle killed her at the young age of 44. As I consider her story, her courage to sing out in protest of racism and to make a way for herself as a singer strikes me – as does the cost she paid in her heart and soul. With respect and honor, let us remember Billie Holiday.
Abridged from a sermon by Rev. Dr. Stephanie May of First Parish in Wayland. You’ll find the full text here.