Kya Nicholson is a first-generation Jamaican American from New York. She is pursuing her bachelors in Public Health and Africana Studies on a PreMed track. At Hopkins, she is involved in extracurriculars ranging from a natural hair club - Knotty by Nature, to Hopkin's first songwriting club that she co-founded Rhythm and Bluejays. She is heavily interested in community/family health, specifically health disparities in different populations such as immigrants and marginalized communities. Kya enjoys exploring and experiencing Baltimore for all it has to offer. One of her favorite things to do in her free time is biking around the city with music playing on her speaker. She also enjoys roller skating, plants, and trying different dishes!
Strange Fruit Still Hangs By: Kya Nicholson
I think we know a story
But only a picture painted without colors
Over eighty years has passed since Billie sung of the strange fruit
Oh how I wish the problems had grass roots but they are deeply embedded in the soil
The blacker the berry, the sweeter the juice
If only the thought of the taste could save from the abuse
Strange fruit still hangs
Elinore Harris her mother sang at birth
Music flowed through her veins straight from her father’s
Her grandfather’s last name became her own
The first name of Billie Dove she soon became known.
The blacker the berry, the sweeter the juice
If only the thought of the taste could save from the abuse
Strange fruit still hangs
When her father left Pennsylvania from relative to relative she moved
At many she was forced to seduce to sustain the lust of men at the extent of her pain
Her mother lived in New York and it was only a matter of time before she followed
At the mere age of sixteen her mother introduced her to something all should disapprove
For pocket change men she did not know would indulge in her fruit
The blacker the berry, the sweeter the juice
If only the thought of the taste could save from the abuse
Strange fruit still hangs
A new leaf would soon turn over
Once a weak singer those who invested in her talents watched her grow
Into the melodic vocalist of New York
Her debut was in 1933
And a strung of recording soon pursued
She was at my peak
The pain she suffered no longer
But trauma grew within
Strange Fruit hangs her sound carried in the wind
Not words directly hers but words that resonated within
The white men scorned unable to face their sins
But she continue to sing and only face more resentment
The blacker the berry, the sweeter the juice
If only the thought of the taste could save from the abuse
Strange fruit still hangs
Her ghosts from the past returned in forms of sugar.
So sweet she could not resist those who gave her the same color as the bliss
Criminalized for the usage unlike her lighter associates her tampered my image
Jobs now gone, from gigs she was hindered they hated her strange fruit so they tricked her with swindling sweets
Nothing was the same cabaret license withheld but Billie would still sing wherever allowed
The blacker the berry, the sweeter the juice
If only the thought of the taste could save from the abuse
Strange fruit still hangs
All things good soon come to an end
The sweet candy spoiled her voice
Her health was quickly declining - her time overextended
July 17, 1959 lacked a day of rejoice
The blacker the berry, the sweeter the juice
Billie was squeezed for all she had and more but her seed reproduced
Strange fruit still hangs
But the mark she made on this land will forever guide those future leading hands
Returning to the National Great Blacks in Wax Museum after being there for the first time during the summer was truly a can of emotions that I did not know could open again. During my first visit I experienced a load of sadness. Just because when you first enter the museum (past the ticket area), you get hit with trauma. Then the museum curator takes you straight into the middle passage. For me it may have been a little too much, but I knew I had to see it anyway. Unfortunately due to the slight trauma I could not go into the ship the second time around.
Stress and trauma are significant threats to both physical and mental health when they occur repeatedly. Even while the conversation on mental health is evolving, it's still frequently regarded as a taboo topic in the Black community. Therefore when I saw the wax figures of the varying atrocities black people experienced, I could not help but think how this trauma could have mentally impacted the descendents.
I tried to channel all this into my project. Since I am doing Billie Holiday, it was relatively easy to tie trauma into my piece. She too was aware of the injustices black people were facing. With black people consistently being lynched during her time, I thought back to the varying figures who faced the same act or something similar. Pure disgust clouded my writing at times. It is really difficult to imagine what would possess a person to commit such heinous crimes. However, I know given this class is tied to public health it needs to be included. Especially since lynchings are still occuring to black people. If we do not speak on topics, and call them out for what they are - blatant racism, they will forever occur. They could potentially worsen. These overwhelming details are the varying thoughts I experienced visiting the National Great Blacks in Wax Museum.
I was originally stuck on the rhythmic aspect of my Billie Holiday song. Ms. Holiday was very special in the way she sang. She employs a technique used by great singers to change vowels, opening out the sound of the word "smile" to a "ah." These kinds of vowel changes facilitate singing and provide a warmer tone. Though it is much more polite and restrained, she tinkers with rhythm and consonants. It is difficult to know how she felt at this time without speaking to her, yet vocals have a haunting way of reflecting reality and revealing our thoughts and emotions.
Due to her very distinctive way of singing, I found it very difficult to try to 1) Sing like her and especially 2) Make a song that she could sing. A lot of her lyrics were short but her extended vowel usage caused her songs to be that of a normal three minute song. Therefore, after attempting several different twists and changes I ultimately decided to change it to a poem.
I have not shared poetry in a while so it is exciting to share it with an audience once more. Especially Billie Holiday, she is loved by Baltimorean, and is a key figure in the music industry. It is very heartwarming I get to show her in her varying lights.
The masked characters known as Makishi are a feature of the Vaka Chiyama Cha Mukwamayi villages' coming-of-age rites in the northwest of Zambia.1 The expression describes the masks and attire that make up a character being played. The souls of deceased ancestors are thought to show themselves in the form of the masks when they cross over into our realm. The Mukanda, an annual initiation school for boys between the ages of eight and seventeen, is linked to the Makishi Masquerade. 1 The Mukanda includes instruction on the initiates' future position in society, tests of courage, and circumcision of the initiates.
In the article, Masks and Dances, Mwanapwebo and Maliya: A Representation of Woman at the Center of Social Change in Zambia rapid urbanization is one such shift that creates issues with young people's sexual conduct and, as a result, is increasing the risk of teenage pregnancies, STDs, and HIV infections. Remarkably in these conditions, Maliya and Mwanapwebo have developed as sex instructors. 1 They are often utilized in public events, such as political, economic, health, and social forums, and are highly well-liked in metropolitan regions. They are far more accessible for entertainment and for educating about societal ills because of their nature as human and participatory characters in the mask rituals.1
1.Phiri V. Masks and dances, mwanapwebo and maliya: A representation of woman at the center of social change in zambia. Signs: Journal of Women in Culture and Society. 2008;33(2):449-456. https://www.jstor.org/stable/10.1086/521061. doi: 10.1086/521061.