After watching Queen Bey’s Lemonade I was all kinds of inspired. So I wrote about it and guess what? Huffington Post Latino picked it up. Here’s an excerpt:
On Saturday, Beyoncé released her visual album Lemonade, an apotheosis to the Black woman. I, as many Beyoncé fans, watched in awe at all the conjuring of black girl magic taking place on my screen. By happenstance, if I were just listening to Lemonade, say, on the car ride to work, I’d be doing my best “boy bye” impersonation with my middle fingers up in solidarity cause name me a woman devoid of heartache and f*ck boys. But, this wasn’t just a studio album about relationship problems. In order to grasp the significance behind Lemonade, one had to sit in meditative silence and become enmeshed in the thematic tropes visually present throughout its 57 minutes. This was an intricately woven ode to diasporic tradition told through poetic interludes and stunning cinematography. It was about hurting and healing and forgiveness but it was also a necessary celebration of roots, culture, and manifestation and it was breathtaking.
In true Beyoncé fashion, Lemonade became the top trending topic on social media (still is). Between the allegations of infidelity, the ominous identity of Becky with the good hair, deconstructing the symbolism of Orisha Deities and the salve of Somali-British Poet Warsan Shire there was much to unpack. Then something happened. Black women asked, no, Black women demanded that Lemonade be their song cry. Black women wanted to write about Black women from a Black woman perspective and rightfully so because of Nina and Piers. They wanted to claim this art and all of its representation and say look we did that. Some folks got it and others were in their feelings cause who are Black women to want to write about Black women? What could they possibly know about identity?
You can read it in full here: