When I first got around to listening to Beyonce’s new album, "Lemonade," I instantly loved it. I was obsessed. Every weekend since it has dropped, I’ve gone out to bars and clubs with friends, waiting for the songs to play in the background. I wanted everyone I know to listen to "Lemonade" and enjoy it the same way I had. I haven’t heard a single Beyonce song other than “Single Ladies” in the club for a long time, but the weird thing is, I’ve been dreading the moment when “Formation” makes its way to Germany. Here’s why:
I’m an unashamed bad singer. If a song comes on that I know the words to in the club I’ll be on the dance floor, singing my heart out in two seconds flat. Even when I’m just alone, hanging out in my room and listening to Pandora, I love to sing. My lack of a nice voice doesn’t stop me from belting out show tunes or Taylor Swift at all hours of night (my roommates might hate me). But "Lemonade" is different. I can’t -- or, more accurately, won’t -- sing out all the words to "Formation." I just won’t let myself. My daddy is not Alabama, my mom’s not Louisana. I have approximately zero Southern heritage. But that isn’t the only thing. Proudly belting out that I’m a “Texas bama” or that I like “my negro nose with Jackson Five nostrils” isn’t just blatantly untrue (I’m as white as they come), it’s also borderline -- dare I say it? -- offensive.
I use the word offensive with trepidation. Too often, it shuts down conversations completely. Someone is accused of being offensive, with no deeper discussion of why what they’re doing is wrong and how they can act better in the future. And the other side -- the countless time I’ve heard that Millennials are “easily offended,” which seems like a coded way of saying that we’re “not going to tolerate your racism, sexism, etc.” But I’m ready to live in a world where the word “offensive” opens up more dialogues than it closes. I’m ready to live in a world where we can have thoughtful conversations about topics that matter intensely to lots of people -- topics like the Black Lives Matter movement, police brutality, black womanhood, and Beyonce. I’m not only ready for that world, but I want to help create it.
“Formation” is a great song. "Lemonade" is a great album. I appreciate Beyonce not only for her musical artistry, but also for the messages behind her work. I stand in support of the Black Lives Matter movement. I try every day to recognize racism, whether from myself or others, and move to correct it. I want to heed Beyonce’s call, to get in formation. But I attempt to do all these things while knowing that I will never experience the personal effects of systematic racial inequalities. I will never live as a person of color, and I will never truly know any of the multitude of experiences associated with being black in America. I love Beyonce, but from a distance. Because even though "Lemonade," as a great work of art, speaks to me on a personal level, I also know that it is, in very fundamental ways, not made for people like me. And I am OK with that.
I won’t be singing "Formation" in the club, or even at home when nobody is watching. My whiteness has afforded me enough in life already -- I don’t need to take this celebration of black culture (especially black womanhood) for myself as well. I’ll be fine without it.
I am clearly not the beginning of discussion around "Lemonade," and I certainly won’t be the end of it. I’m not even an important part. I’ll leave the scholarly work and close readings and in-depth analysis to the multitudes of black scholars and writers out there. There are lots of these great pieces out there -- go read some of them. Educate yourself, have compassion, and attempt understanding. Lemonade is a part of something bigger, and I’m absolutely ready to get in formation and help create a better world for everyone.
Further reading:
“What to read after watching Beyonce’s Lemonade” by Nichole Perkins
“Lemonade, Love, and Being a Black Girl Who Becomes a Black Woman” by Amani Bin Shikhan
“Why Lemonade Is For Black Women” by Dominique Matti
“Lemonade Is Beyonce’s Body and Blood” by Clover Hope
“Critic’s Notebook: Beyonce’s ‘Lemonade’ Is a Revolutionary Work of Black Feminism” by Miriam Bale
