You would die before you disappeared

Falling toward a black hole, your feet are always closer to it than your head, so gravity pulls on them harder — the same reason ocean tides exist on Earth, just monstrously amplified. Near a black hole small enough for its gravity to change noticeably over the length of a human body, that difference stops being trivia and starts being lethal.

Tyson lays out the sequence in Death by Black Hole: the stretch begins pleasantly, almost like a yoga pose, then keeps going past what tissue can hold. You separate — likely at the waist, since nothing vital lives below it — and each half is pulled apart again, and again, faster than you could bleed out. Long before you reach the point of no return, you are a thin stream of atoms. Physicists reached for a word and landed on spaghettification.

The detail that stays with you isn't the gore. It's that the horror is entirely mechanical — differential gravity, nothing more, doing to a body what it already does, invisibly, to every falling thing.

Which means the ocean's tide and your undoing share one equation. Scale is the only difference.