Winehouse’s legacy lives on in a multitude of ways
On the 10th anniversary of Amy Winehouse’s death, it seems pertinent to ask: what is her legacy? The answer, of course, is that it looks very different to a lot of people.
For some it’s her small but stunning studio album collection; or Amy’s Place, an east Londonbased drug recovery centre for women, set up by the star’s parents ater she died; while for others it’s her role as one of the inaugural female celebrities who, throughout the Noughties, were hounded and bullied by the press. Personally, though, Winehouse’s legacy cuts much deeper.
When she died on 23 July 2011, I vividly remember those images of a dark red body bag being carried out of Winehouse’s home in Camden, north London. Don’t get me wrong, I wasn’t some diehard fan, I just recall knowing that moment would be one I’d remember for a very long time.
Fast forward to 2015, when Asif Kapadia’s controversial Amy documentary was released, I was in the throes of what would end up being a near-five-year batle with depression and two eating disorders: anorexia and bulimia.
Hearing how Winehouse, aged 15, told her mother, Janis, that she had found “the perfect diet” – eating whatever she wanted and throwing it up later – made my starved body come alive. Finally, someone got it. I wasn’t a freak ater all, I was normal, “perfect” even. This may sound odd, considering I’m only talking about six years ago, but there were far fewer celebrities discussing eating disorders and body image then. Since, thankfully, plenty have come forward: Zayn Malik in 2016, Demi Lovato in 2017, even Elton John in 2019.
Even though Winehouse’s official cause of death was alcohol poisoning – confirmed ater a second inquest in 2013 – it seems inescapable that the damage done to her body through bulimia played a part. In fact, a doctor interviewed in the Amy film describes the singer’s death as a “combination” of alcohol poisoning and the “weakened state of her body” due to an eating disorder.
I became a bit obsessed from there – shocking from someone who had an obsessive compulsive need to starve themselves, I know. I’d play Frank and Back to Black on repeat. I read up on Amy’s life, which led me to the 2013 Observer magazine interview with her older brother, Alex, in which he said his sibling “would have died eventually, the way she was going, but what really killed her was the bulimia”.
I’d heard all the warnings before, from my parents, doctors and therapists, but this felt different. Alex’s acceptance, his sense of inevitability, of what would happen to his sister – and, in turn, what I took to mean would eventually happen to me – frankly scared the s*** out of me. And while that didn’t mean I could simply click my fingers and make myself beter, it did allow me to begin imagining what my life without anorexia and bulimia in it might look like.
As any of the 1.25 million people currently suffering from an eating disorder in the UK know, this is a huge moment, which signals something can change but only if you want it to and are willing to work hard for it every day.
I did that for the next few years, well into my twenties, until I didn’t need to anymore. I’m not saying that’s down to Winehouse, because it isn’t, that’s down to me. What I am saying, though, is her legacy lives on in a multitude of ways. There’s her music, her rehab centre, her troubled relationship with the paparazzi, plus there’s her refusal to live quietly and the impact that had – years ater she died – on a quietly suffering 20-year-old university student.
So, today, I intend to celebrate the life of someone who showed me the value in beginning to appreciate my own. Here’s to you, Amy Winehouse.