No celebrity is above critique. I am coming to terms with the idea that we should abolish celebrity and capitalism at large. Why is it, though, that Beyoncé is the face of the issue?
I love Beyoncé in the way that I love my cabbage patch doll, Darlene. I've had her since I was four years old, and even as I'm typing this, she is laying on my bed, in her white dress with red flowers that matches the one I wore to my mom's wedding more than ten years ago. I love Beyoncé for the constant comfort her art has given me. I love her for the way she makes any place feel like home to me. Her music is my security blanket. Having an angry day? Okay, I'll turn on "Ring the Alarm". About to start washing my hair? Let me queue up "Resentment". 2 a.m. dance party while doing the dishes? Time for "Video Phone". I save Lemonade for when I have the time to lay and stare at the ceiling and listen to the album in its entirety. I wrote about my love for Beyoncé in one of my college personal statements. In short, what she's given us through her music means quite a lot to me. As such, I am protective, and dare I say biased, when it comes to criticisms that I take as invalidating her and her work.
As is often seen on Twitter, before I make a statement that might be a tad controversial, I would like to issue a few disclaimers: I am not a believer in capitalism, Black or otherwise. I very much love Beyoncé , but I deify no one other than God. I do not believe any celebrity or artist is too talented or beloved or wealthy enough to be above critique. In fact, I think such critiques have the potential to radicalize those who come across it on social media, which is a powerful tool.
Okay? Okay.
Now, having said that, I have to ask: Why does it seem like Beyoncé is the main one receiving such critiques? I have written previously about how her unparalleled success has been met with constant vitriol towards herself, her children, her appearance, her work, etc. etc. However, recent events have brought to light the ways in which we must dismantle the systems that be. For some reason, the face of these systems has become Beyoncé. I'm lost.
I remember the first time I experienced Beyoncé's sixth album, Lemonade. I remember the joy and the righteous anger and the abundant love for Black bodies and Black women that I felt watching it. I felt empowered, and seen, in the same manner I'd only felt before from a fresh press or a new pair of sparkly ugg boots (and if you couldn't tell, yes, I was very much white-washed). This album was made for Black women, and for the first time, I understood what that meant. I will not be hyperbolic and tell you, reader, that I felt like she was talking to me, because at 14 years old, that would be a lie. However, watching Beyoncé rage and cry and twirl and twerk reminded me of the many evenings I spent in the kitchen or living room, listening to my mother and aunties lament about the exhaustion that is everyday life.
Lemonade is not revolutionary. Especially not in the sense of the revolution we are currently in the process of building for ourselves. This is a fact.
My issue lies with the idea that this is a necessity for Black art. Lemonade, or any of Beyoncé's music, is in no way anti-capitalist, but since when is that the standard by which we measure the music we listen to? Since when is all Black art produced under capitalism inherently "commodification" when not centered around liberation? I'll be the first to admit I have some reading to do, so please send some my way if I'm entirely off base (and yes, I've read the Bell Hooks article), but this just does not seem fair to me.
I do not know Beyoncé, so this is all conjecture, but I personally don't believe her goal is to bottle up Blackness and sell it to the highest bidder. I also don't believe her goal is an end to capitalism, or abolition of the police. All can be true. Her recent projects in Lion King: The Gift and her upcoming film Black is King is a broad generalization towards the many many varied groups that reside within the continent. Let's have that discussion. But to say that this Black woman does not have the right to access and create art centered around Blackness is a bit absurd. I think she has a better understanding of the different cultures in Africa than a lot of us. She exposed me and the few other people that streamed Lion King: The Gift to a broad range of Black American and African voices I hadn't listened to before.
My perspective is very much westernized, but they are my ancestors, and hers too. Our people were taken from their homes and forced into chattel slavery, and as such, our view and understanding of African cultures is not as well-developed as someone whose ancestors were not. However, we do have ties, and I see Beyoncé, not seeking to pawn off culture, but to use her platform as one of the biggest names in entertainment to give us a chance to connect in the same way.
Beyoncé is a capitalist. She is worth hundreds of millions of dollars. She has given millions of dollars every year (most likely even more than we've learned of through links) to local causes. She stays quiet, makes her music, and opens her purse. Last time I checked, that's precisely what every other public figure has been praised for doing. Why has Beyoncé, who is not even the richest Black female artist, who is known much more for her artistry than any business expenditures or "branding", become the figure of everyone's ire for capitalism and celebrity? I'm seriously asking.
The largest concern I have is the idea that people are upset with Beyoncé, or her music, for not being revolutionary. It's the idea that all Black people must be one homogeneous entity with the same politics and stances on theory to respect one another's art or creations. This is what I take issue with. Our politics are very different, but so long as you are not seeking to dismiss my existence through oppressive policy, I see no reason why we cannot co-exist. Beyoncé's recent single, "Black Parade", was an upbeat song with callbacks to important figures in Black history as well as Afro-centrist. No, it was not radical, but it made me happy. Right now, when it can feel as though I am entirely consumed with notions of how to take apart the systems that oppress me, happiness is good. Happiness is enough.
I saw someone on twitter state that they would be much more conducive to critiques of Beyoncé if they came from a place of discourse and true criticism as opposed to an outlet for underlying disdain. I'd have to agree.