“It’s my fault / The way I broke the Earth / It’s my fault,” ANOHNI yearns repeatedly over a blanket of mellow guitar riffs. It’s an intimate moment that comes straight from the soul, exploring her positionality in society through music. The sultriness of her voice finds shelter in the acceptance of hopelessness. Why is it that marginalized people always have to fight for “acceptance?” Will there ever be a time when society truly sees us for who we are? Nowadays, it is very difficult to see these questions being answered any time soon. The growing conservative outpour of anti-freedom legislation targeting marginalized groups has only reinforced the hatred and hypocrisy built within the history of the United States. There is dissolution, fright, and uncertainty in the minds of many who just want to be themselves. Therefore, the struggle to reclaim one's identity against ignorance is more necessary than ever. In the heart-wrenching My Back Was a Bridge for You to Cross, ANOHNI is ready to confront these oppressive forces by exploring the stages of healing from the wounds of violence and discovering how to reconcile with history and one’s self.
Released in 2023, the blue-eyed inspired album is ANOHNI’s first project with her formative band in 13 years. The band name, “Anohni and the Johnsons” (formerly known as Antony and the Johnsons), was inspired by a meeting she had with trans rights activist Marsha P. Johnson right before her death. Therefore, this feels like a full circle moment for ANOHNI as the album artwork is a portrait of Marsha P. Johnson, which recalls her past interactions with her.
The album starts with “It Must Change,” a track inspired by Marvin Gaye’s What’s Going On, that puts perpetrators in direct arrest by demanding, in such a calm and poised manner, the recognition of the violence against marginalized communities and the inevitable environmental collapse. Gaye’s album was one of the first to consider both the civil rights struggles and the climate crisis as intrinsic to Black people’s well-being. ANOHNI follows a similar writing style to Gaye’s in her lyricism, making it difficult for the listener to miss her point. She spells out this explicit violence with lyrics such as: “The way you talk to me, it must change / The things you do to me / The way you leave me / The seeds you give to me / It must change, it must change.” In a society with people wanting to rewrite and morph history as they please, going to the extent of deleting archives and getting rid of resources for marginalized communities, it is important for artists like ANOHNI to acknowledge the precedents of violence in hopes of improving society in the future.
There is an untamed fury that arrives quite early on the tracklist. The freeform wall of noisy guitars in “Go Ahead” paired with ANOHNI’s voice at her most jarring in the record might scare away the casual listener. Right after, “Can’t” sees ANOHNI grieving someone who is no longer in her life, saying that she “won’t have it… / don’t want you to be dead.” This early peek into ANOHNI’s emotional state allows for the introduction of the stages of grief and healing, recognizing violence and initial fury as some of the first steps. Slowly, the outlandish intensity carried by her voice drifts into a more introspective and poignant turmoil of complexity that complicates the record’s emotional landscape.
In “Scapegoat,” ANOHNI flips the switch, taking an unusual approach in her lyricism. She cynically embodies the force that she is actively fighting against as a way to highlight the disturbing nature of hatred. Hearing words like “You’re so killable… / It’s not personal / It’s just the way you were born” come out of ANOHNI’s mouth is shocking, but she is ready to shine a light into the depths of the listener’s consciousness. The eye-opening self-deprecation employed in the song calls back to ideas like Afropessimism. In this lineage of thinking popularized by authors like Frank B. Wilderson III, the oppression of Black people represents a rupture in collective consciousness that one cannot heal from—a rupture that is necessary for white supremacy to maintain racial and class hierarchies. It is a shattered glass. A “social death” in which you only exist through the representation of someone else. ANOHNI represents this void of self through her revolving vibrato that leaves the listener feeling like they are lying on an isolated beach, where the ripples of the waves continuously hit against one’s body. In doing so, she critiques the monolithic framing of minorities as mere groups that drown in struggle. “In this society, a scapegoat is all I can be,” she says while exploring the fine line between experiencing oppression and being relegated to its categorization.
A few days ago, I went to a Yiddish techno performance called “Kleztronica,” hosted by dance music artist Chaia in Providence’s AS220. I knew very little about the history of Yiddish music and Jewish radical politics, but the history-infused show allowed someone like me to appreciate the history of rebellion. I was especially captivated by this one track, which I can’t remember the name of, where Chaia explained how the lyrics express the story of a man who is tired of chasing a bird around different towns and ultimately gives up. She said that the bird represents the Yiddish struggle and hopes for change, and how exhausting it can be to constantly try to achieve that. This perspective not only opened my eyes to the many realities of historical trauma, but also reminded me of ANOHNI’s work—especially this album.
My Back Was a Bridge for You to Cross is filled with a lot of these lesser known realities and responses to struggle that are just as important to understanding human behavior. The ominous yet blissful “Sliver of Ice” recounts the simplicity of chewing on ice, a sensation that Lou Reed—leader of The Velvet Underground—described to ANOHNI on his deathbed. This track heightens the importance of remembering life’s simplest pleasures as a way to keep afloat during periods of crisis. “Rest” and the closing track “You Be Free” explore themes of knowing when it is the time to pass the fighting torch. There is a joy in resignation (or even distancing) that shouldn’t be subject to shame. The latter track ends the record with the phrase “You be free for me” and a clip of ANOHNI exhaling, releasing the tension of constantly trying to defy hatred and ignorance and letting others take that path forward.
Surrounded by simplistic instrumentation, ANOHNI’s voice and lyricism have room to shine as a poignant reminder of the complexity of grief and struggle. She paints the reality for trans people as unforgiving, harsh, and hopeless. Somehow, this train of thought that accepts our “social death” can maybe lead us to healing. It could also drive us to a vanishing point of imminent destruction. My Back Was a Bridge for You to Cross does not look for answers or give false senses of hope. It is grounded in the reality of our day-to-day life. As we continue to encounter a reality of violence and disillusion, ANOHNI just hopes that the future will grace us with its merciful care.
