#062 : XOJANE THROWBACK / DEATH OF WHITNEY HOUSTON ESSAY

Original publication date: Feb 27, 2023

[***WARNING: THIS COLUMN CONTAINS TRIGGERING IMAGES OF DRUG USE AND OVERDOSE.***]

Good morning. I am typing this from the traffic circle for the soul that is downtown Cancun. Don’t be jealous: my ATM card pin isn’t working, so I don’t have $.50 to get on the bus and go to the beach. And there’s no Uber here, and the cabs only take cash. That means I'm stuck in my hotel by the bus station.

Whoops!

Half of this trip has been a bust, but at least I have time to reflect and get some work done. Eleven years ago, Whitney Houston died. I was deep in my own illness at the time—months from being put “on disability” by a media company for the third time before I’d even turned thirty.

I wasn’t coming in to the xoJane offices much, so I grabbed assignments via email. When I heard of Whitney’s death—which I assumed was from overdose—I took the bold move of emailing Jane Pratt and Emily McCombs, our managing editor, and “claiming” the story.

I was the top dog writer at the site and always got any assignment I wanted (I’d had a similar impulse to claim the “writing rights” when Amy Winehouse died). I was also the slowest, least-likely-to-come-through-when-I-said-I-would writer. Still, Jane and Emily were happy I wanted to write about Whitney.

The assignment was also time-sensitive. I had only 48 hours, tops, to publish something of substance. This meant the pressure was on.

I had a lot to say, which isn't always a good thing on deadline. Luckily, I entered an elite “flow state" with the work. The result is the first true essay I’d ever written.

(Kind) people praise my honesty and rawness. As a frequent writer of autobiographical nonfiction, I’m much less concerned with the “honesty” of the personal shit that I’ve told you—whatever—than with how I managed to arrange it and technically execute it for emotional effect on the page.