STRANGE FRUIT- blackberries and raspberries, with middle notes of white floral greenery, and bottom notes of musk and vanilla
INGREDIENTS: Distilled Water, Cocos Nucifera (Coconut) Oil,Persea Gratissima (Avocado) Oil, Butyrospermum Parkii (Shea Butter),Helianthus Annuus (Sunflower) Seed Oil, Ricinus Communis (Castor) Seed Oil,Aloe Barbadensis Leaf Juice, Sodium Lactate, Cocos Nucifera (Coconut) Powder, Kaolin, Avena Sativa (Oat Kernel) Flour, Sucrose, Sea Salt, Fragrance, and Mica, Polyester 3, Acid red 92, Titanium Dioxide, Iron Oxide, chromium oxide green
Strange Fruit Artisan Soap is a Commemorative Soap made as a way to channel the hurt and even anger that one can't help but feel when you witness death at the hands of those sworn to serve and protect. The name is based on a 30's song, performed by Billie Holiday. It was written in response to the lynchings that were happening in the Southern United Stated. Ironically the author was a Jewish man. The words and meaning in this song are still very relevant today:
In the late 1930s, Abel Meeropol (the author of Strange Fruit) "was very disturbed at the continuation of racism in America, and seeing a photograph of a lynching sort of put him over the edge."
Meeropol once said the photograph "haunted" him "for days." So he wrote a poem about it, which was then printed in a teachers union publication. An amateur composer, Meeropol also set his words to music. He played it for a New York club owner — who ultimately gave it to Billie Holiday.
When Holiday decided to sing "Strange Fruit," the song reached millions of people. While the lyrics never mention lynching, the metaphor is painfully clear:
Southern trees bear a strange fruit,
Blood on the leaves and blood at the root,
Black body swinging in the Southern breeze,
Strange fruit hanging from the poplar trees.
Pastoral scene of the gallant South,
The bulging eyes and the twisted mouth,
Scent of magnolia sweet and fresh,
And the sudden smell of burning flesh!
Here is a fruit for the crows to pluck,
For the rain to gather, for the wind to suck,
For the sun to rot, for a tree to drop,
Here is a strange and bitter crop.