Skip to main content

I Was Wrong about Beyonce

Oh, no.. don't get me wrong. I still don't think she can sing and I don't like her music.... I don't know or own ANY of her songs unless they get played at parties. I literally do not know ANY lyrics... dead ass. And let's face it... I'm 39 with a kid... when am I gonna go to a party that doesn't have an animated character present?

Nevertheless, I can admit when I am wrong. A while back, I wrote a blog about Beyonce and her "brand" of feminism. While I still argue and posit that Beyonce is using/used feminism/womanism as a marketing scheme (as with any good "evolutionary" artist. See: Janet, Madonna, GaGa.....). I was wrong to say that her kind of feminism isn't feminism, specifically black feminism. It's HER feminism. And who am I to judge?
Image result for keith sweat memes
Nobody...*Keith Sweat Voice*

If she thinks body performativity and sex is feminism, so be it. If she wants to be Oshun for a day, that's cool too. If she thinks to wear a onesie/unitard and a stomping the ground is empowering, then girl go for it.  I've grown. I realize my narrowing of feminism is harmful. And could be seen as toxic.

 And now that I am a mother (I wrote that blog before I was pregnant) and a lot more "woke" in my feelings, I can say that I realize that black feminism and womanism is a whole LOT of everything, and not much else. Does that make sense? It's not this narrow, academic view I had. It's the Beyonces and the Cardi B's... and the bell hooks of the world.. .and it takes BOTH/ALL to make feminism work. (I've said that before....I know I have....)

So I stand corrected. An almost-40 year old mama of a toddler is saying... Beyonce is right. I am wrong. Who am I to assume she hasn't done the reading or the work because she talks a lil' slow and dim-witted? Who am I to think that she isn't deep (ok.. I don't think she's that deep.. but I am giving her some credit). While it all may be carefully crafted marketing, I see that once she embraced a radical Africanized feminism, she lost some white fans. And that is the ultimate sacrifice. I can't hate on that. She is literally doing it for the culture.


But trust me. You still won't get me to a concert. I'm good on that. Holler at me when Floetry decides to reunite or something...

(PS: Can someone put together a Back to the Neo Soul tour or something??? Dang... late 90s-early 2000s was the sh*t musically...)


Comments

Popular posts from this blog

2018: A Year Without Fear

I used to make these lofty, resolution goals each year. The older I got, the grander my ideas became. That is until I reached the age of 30 and my entire life shifted.

At the time, I was divorced, living totally on my own, trying to rebuild myself financially and trying to figure out my next move toward happiness. That was at the time I started this blog.... which started out as my chronicling the dating and mating of a 30 something divorcee' in the South's Largest Metropolis. I was trying to date. I was trying to establish myself financially. And I was trying to find my purpose.

So much has changed in the almost 9 years since I started this blog. I've traveled alone. I gained and lost friends. I got into a Ph.D. program. I got re-married. I lost my mother, my best friend.... not to mention my uncle, cousin, and aunt. I gained a sweet baby girl.  I went from getting my bliss.... to trying to balance that bliss with my own life..... Yet in trying to find the balance, I alw…

I Had Hope For Other Hair: Confessions in Black Motherhood

I had hoped for other hair...
(My Little One Reading a Book Before Bed)

... for my daughter.

No, I didn't want her to have "good hair"... hair that ebbed and flowed close to the weight of Whiteness. I didn't want that for her.  I didn't want her to have hair that was deemed "managable" or "a good grade". as if you can give hair letter grades or grade it on a curve.

I just wanted her to have any hair other than MY hair. She inherited my hair. And I cried.

When I found out I was having a girl, anxiety was replaced with dread. "Dear God.. I have to learn how to do hair". See, growing up, my mother was my stylist, even way into high school. So in between salon visits, she would relax or press my hair. She'd style it or comb it. And I never worried about it. I tried and tried to do my own hair... and failed. The only style I could keep up were Brandy-inspired box braids (which some poor, Senegalese woman would do for hours) or a very sho…

The Art of the Dirty Talk

I am the queen of talking dirty after dark. I mean I am GOOD at it. VERY good. So much so I dated a guy and for months..all he wanted me to do was speak nasty to him. We never has sex. Nothing. Just a bunch of dirty talk....and he was happy. (Hey..a very safe sex fetish!) Heck..I'm even considering picking up some extra income in this economy and becoming a phone sex operator...my job does NOT pay enough.

I will say there is an ART to dirty talk. You cant be shy. You cant be a prude and say things 1) you are not comfortable saying and 2) that you certainly can't back up if you are in a position to act on those things with a trust partner. 3 ) things you have no real reference point of familiarity with. Don;t say you are down for a "golden shower" if you think that has something to do with "lemonade kool-aid". DOn't pretend to have a weird accent. That would be ROLE playing..and not "talking dirty". BUT a lot of "talking dirty" is role…