Legends as Protest: Finding Voice in Song
- trevor3861
- Aug 29
- 7 min read
Julia and I usually make the Edmonton Fringe a summer ritual. The long lines, the neon wristbands, the smell of green onion cakes drifting down Whyte Avenue—it’s part theatre, part festival, part pilgrimage. Most years we cram in half a dozen shows or more, swapping notes between acts.
But this year, life caught up with us. We missed the entire main festival. By the time things slowed down, the curtain had already fallen.
That’s why the Fringe Holdovers felt like a gift. A second chance. And when we saw A Cabaret of Legends on the list, we knew immediately: this was the one we couldn’t miss.
Enter Tymisha Harris
The Westbury Theatre is small enough to feel intimate, but big enough to carry a voice. The lights dimmed, and onto the stage walked Tymisha Harris. Sequins caught the spotlight, but what caught us most was her presence. Within minutes, it was clear: this wasn’t a nostalgia revue. This was protest wrapped in cabaret.
Through Ella Fitzgerald’s elegance, Billie Holiday’s anguish, Nina Simone’s fire, Josephine Baker’s defiance, Tina Turner’s survival, Whitney Houston’s brilliance, Dolly Parton’s humanity, and Beyoncé’s power, Harris stitched together a story that was bigger than music.
It was history, resilience, and protest—sung into the present tense.
Ella Fitzgerald: Grace in Motion
Harris began with Ella Fitzgerald, the “First Lady of Song.” She described Ella as style, poise, fun—and also as someone who managed to “fit” into mainstream America in ways other artists couldn’t.
Fitzgerald was known for scat singing, her improvisational “do-bee-bop” runs that turned syllables into jazz instruments. Her grace opened doors that anger might have closed. She didn’t ruffle feathers, but she changed the air of every room she entered.
Lesson: Energy doesn’t always roar. Sometimes it whispers with joy. Lodges and fraternities can forget that vitality doesn’t have to mean spectacle. It can also mean warmth, laughter, and the kind of energy that makes people want to come back next week.
🎤 “Music is for everybody.” — Ella Fitzgerald
Did You Know? 🎶
In 1955, Ella and her band were arrested in Houston for playing a segregated theatre. Despite humiliation, she rose above it, reminding the world: “Music is for everybody.” Her joy was itself a quiet protest.
Billie Holiday: Singing the Unspeakable
The atmosphere shifted when Harris introduced Billie Holiday. She spoke of “Lady Day’s” tragic road—addiction, exploitation, abuse—but also her courage. Then Harris sang the chilling opening of “Strange Fruit.”
🎶 “Southern trees bear strange fruit, blood on the leaves and blood at the root…” — Billie Holiday
The room froze. Even in fragments, the song pierced.
On the drive home, Julia said:
💬 “Even though she only sang the beginning, it gave me chills. You realize they’re talking about lynching—Black men hanging from trees. That was holy shit powerful.” — Julia
Billie sang that truth night after night, even as the FBI hounded her. She died in 1959, handcuffed to a hospital bed, with $750 to her name. Yet her protest outlived her.
Lesson: Visibility matters most when it’s dangerous. Our fraternities often play it safe. But truth-telling—about injustice, about decline, about what really needs to change—requires Billie’s kind of courage.
Did You Know? 🕵️
Holiday’s 1939 debut of Strange Fruit terrified officials. Harry Anslinger, head of the Federal Bureau of Narcotics, targeted her relentlessly—revoking her cabaret license, staging arrests, and surveilling her until her death. Singing truth was her rebellion.
Nina Simone: The Sound of Fury
If Billie’s song was lament, Nina Simone’s music was fury. Harris told the story of Nina’s childhood recital, when a white couple forced her parents from the front row. At twelve years old, Simone refused to play until they were reseated. She never stopped resisting.
Then came “Mississippi Goddam.” Harris didn’t soften it. Each word was barbed wire. Nina wrote it in under an hour after four girls were killed in the 1963 Birmingham church bombing and Medgar Evers was assassinated.
As Harris sang, Julia whispered to me:
💬 “This wasn’t just women’s rights. This was Black women’s equality— their power. Equality can’t be piecemeal. If it’s not for everyone, it isn’t real.” — Julia
Lesson: Purpose fuels protest. If fraternities lose purpose—if meetings drift into habit without conviction—we risk becoming hollow echoes of ourselves. Nina reminds us: ritual must always point to meaning.
🎹 “An artist’s duty is to reflect the times.” — Nina Simone
Did You Know? 🎹
Simone’s protest songs like Mississippi Goddam made her a target of FBI surveillance. Diagnosed later with bipolar disorder, she still declared: “An artist’s duty is to reflect the times.” Her rage became revolution.
Josephine Baker: Defiance with a Smile
Energy shifted again as Harris shimmered into the story of Josephine Baker—dancer, singer, resistance fighter. She told of Josephine’s adoption of children from different races to create her “rainbow tribe,” her glamour on stage, and her deep courage behind the scenes.
In WWII, Baker smuggled messages for the French Resistance in invisible ink on sheet music. She entertained Allied troops while serving as a spy.
Lesson: Mentorship is legacy. Baker didn’t just inspire audiences; she mentored generations by the life she lived. Diana Ross famously studied her for a film role. Grace Kelly befriended her and helped restore her career.
Did You Know? ⭐
During WWII, Josephine Baker used her fame to fight tyranny. She smuggled secret messages hidden in sheet music written with invisible ink, entertained Allied troops, and risked her life for freedom. France awarded her the Croix de Guerre.
Tina Turner: Survival as Protest
The music exploded as Harris rolled into Tina Turner. Sequins, fire, “Proud Mary” in full swing. But Harris reminded us: behind that energy was survival.
Tina endured years of abuse, left with 36 cents and a gas station credit card, and rebuilt herself into one of the most powerful performers in history.
Lesson: Sometimes survival itself is protest. When a lodge or temple keeps gathering despite decline, when Nobles choose joy despite setbacks, that persistence is its own defiance.
⚡ “Sometimes survival itself is protest.”
Did You Know? ⚡
After escaping abuse, Tina Turner walked away with almost nothing. She rebuilt her career from scratch into global superstardom. Every performance was proof that survival can be the loudest protest.
Whitney Houston & Dolly Parton: Love That Endures
Whitney Houston’s voice soared through “I Will Always Love You,” written decades earlier by Dolly Parton. Harris sang it not as mimicry, but as gratitude.
Whitney’s brilliance was often framed by tragedy—addiction, public collapse, an early death. Dolly, by contrast, is still alive, a woman whose plain-spoken humanity hides fierce intelligence. Together, their song reminds us: love is legacy.
Lesson: Fraternity is love disguised as duty. We fundraise, mentor, and serve—but underneath it all, we love. That’s what endures.
🎶 “And I will always love you…”
Did You Know? 💖
Dolly Parton kept the publishing rights to “I Will Always Love You”—a business decision that secured her legacy. Whitney Houston turned it into a global anthem. Together, they proved that love—and ownership—are acts of power.
Beyoncé: Freedom as Anthem
The finale belonged to Beyoncé. Harris stripped off her wig, raw and unmasked, and sang “Freedom.” It was electricity.
Beyoncé has won 35 Grammys—more than any artist in history—and received 99 nominations. Yet her most powerful moments are not awards but protest: Lemonade, Formation, Freedom.
Harris told us:
🎤 “Every time you listen to a different voice, it’s a form of protest.” — Tymisha Harris
Lesson: The next generation is watching. Fraternities cannot survive on past glory. We need Beyoncé’s courage to create, to risk, to stay visible in the present moment.
🎶 “Freedom, freedom, I can’t move… Freedom, cut me loose.” — Beyoncé
Did You Know? 👑
At the 2016 Super Bowl, Beyoncé performed “Formation” flanked by dancers styled as Black Panthers. It was called “too political” by critics, but it sparked conversations about race and representation. Visibility remains dangerous—and necessary.
Lessons for Fraternities
Energy ⚡ (Tina Turner): Bring vitality into meetings—make the room buzz.
Mentorship 🤲 (Josephine Baker): Leave trails worth following.
Visibility 👀 (Billie Holiday): Sing the hard truths even if it costs you.
Purpose 🎯 (Nina Simone): Anchor everything in meaning; otherwise, energy fades.
Lessons for the World
Listen Differently. Hearing silenced voices is protest in itself.
Channel Anger into Creation. Like Nina, let outrage fuel constructive action.
Resilience as Resistance. Survival is not passive—it’s defiant.
Legacy as Mentorship. Live so your story guides others after you’re gone.
Reflection Questions
Which legend speaks most deeply to you, and why?
What truth are you avoiding because it feels too costly to speak?
In your lodge, temple, or community, where has safety replaced visibility?
How can resilience itself—simply refusing to fade—be your protest?
What part of your own story could mentor someone else if you told it?
What would it look like for your fraternity to sing with purpose, not just habit?
What legacy are you writing for those who come after you?
The Heartbeat That Refuses to Fade
As Harris sang Beyoncé’s Freedom, stripped bare of wigs and glitter, I realized: protest is not always marching in the streets. Sometimes it is standing unmasked and singing anyway.
Every lodge, every temple, every fraternity faces the temptation to fade politely into history. But the legends remind us to:
Live with energy;
Mentor through story;
Remain visible; and
Walk with purpose is protest.
Here’s to life. Here’s to legends. Here’s to the heartbeat that refuses to be silenced.
Julia’s Final Reflection
On the way home, Julia turned to me and said:
💬 “You know what struck me most? She sang with such joy, even when the songs came out of pain. That’s what I’ll remember. Protest doesn’t have to be bitter—it can be beautiful.” — Julia
And she was right. The show didn’t just remind us of struggle. It reminded us of beauty.
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