Black Women… Beyonce’s Lemonade

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I just watched Lemonade, and before I can get into my first reactions to this musical film, I need to get one thing off my chest:

formation

Fuck Jay Z & fuck forgiveness.

Okay… now I can begin.

“Formation” marked a turn to Beyonce’s image and career. As she fearlessly proclaimed and reclaimed her Blackness, and stood up for the dignity of Black women and Black lives, she carved a new place for herself as an artist.

Two months later, she brings us Lemonade. A film. A musical. An album. An invitation into Beyonce’s most vulnerable self, and a love letter to Black women’s past, present and future, it’s both heartbreaking and beautiful. Visually, it’s breathtaking, lyrically it poetically justifies Beyonce as an artist who’s untouchable and constantly redefining herself. Lemonade transitions Beyonce from a sexy pop icon, to a deeply refined artist.

Before yesterday, we didn’t know what Lemonade was going to be. I don’t think any of us were prepared to have Jay Z’s infidelity confirmed and detailed in this visual album. Lemonade reveals the darker side to the Carter’s marriage. A marriage that has always been posed as sexy and powerful has been uncovered as deeply flawed, and, quite frankly, trope-ish . Even Beyonce, with all of her beauty and significance, hasn’t been able to escape the tradition of men stepping out on their wives over and over     again. Beyonce’s response to her pain is raw, complicated, and whether or not I approve of her “final warning,” it’s honest.

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But is this solely an album about Beyonce and Jay Z’s less than perfect marriage? It’s easy to get lost in the devastating details Beyonce lays out for us. Comparing  J to her daddy, recalling the various women she’s seen in her hallways, along with the sleepless nights waiting for him to come home or return her phone calls, we feel sad for Beyonce. Not because her vulnerabilities have exposed her weaknesses, but because they reveal something we’ve never truly seen from her: human pain.

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In the song, “Anger,”  we hear Malcolm X summing up the reality of Black women:

The most disrespected person in America is the black woman.
The most unprotected person in America is the black woman.
The most neglected person in America is the black woman.

While these powerful words most certainly can be directed to Jay Z’s treatment of Beyonce, it doesn’t stop there. Later in the album/film, we also see the Black mothers who have been disrespected by our judicial system. In “Resurrection,” women hold photos of Black men who have died. Sybrina Fulton, mother of Trayvon Martin, Gwenn Carr, mother of Eric Garner, and Lezley McSpadden, mother of Michael Brown, are shown holding photographs of their murdered sons.  Their presence in the film is significant, because it brings to light the Black women who have often been forgotten and silenced in the midst of the Black Lives Matter Movement: the Black mothers.

In the forefront of infidelity, shameless behavior and the systemic mistreatment of Black women, we see the other women. Not the women J’s been creeping with, and not only the women who’ve been mistreated, but the women standing next to, behind, and before Beyonce. Black women– in all of our pretty shades of brown and beige– stand, sit, dance together.They hold hands with each other. They look out for each other. They hold each other. These women are from our past, these women are from our now, these women are our future. I find these women to be the lemonade made from the lemons of our realities.

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On #Oscarssowhite

I done said that 50 million times…

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And I’ve written three posts about it.

  1. February 25th, 2013: Reflections on the P.O.C. in the Oscars’ “Best Films”
  2. March 2nd, 2014: Why I’m Not Spending this Evening with the Oscars
  3. March 1st, 2015: Equal Rights for Women: Hey Patricia! Am I Included in this?

I have nothing else to say.

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Getting Into Formation with EXTRA Black Beyonce

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I’m not part of the Beyhive. I’ve followed Beyonce since the “No, No, No”era, but haven’t praised every move she’s made. During this 19 year distant relationship, I’ve freely critiqued artistic choices she’s made along the way, while dancing my ass off to many of her songs (I used to clear the dance floor for “Crazy In Love.”) There have been moments (i.e. when she culturally appropriated herself into Coldplay’s music video) when I’ve wished she’d use her talent and her fame differently. And when I say differently, I mostly mean that I wish she’d called us to get into Formation a long time ago. But, I won’t sulk about how long it took her to get here. In fact, I think her timing of being unapologetically EXTRA Black (hot sauce bag, swag) and EXTRA proud (you mix that Negro with that Creole makes a Texas bama) is appropriate. We needed this.

Whatever the reason is behind her shying away from race politics in the past, I’m glad she showed up. My students look up to her, and so do many people of all ages. And whether it’s right or not, celebrities have the platform when it comes to naming what matters. They are the ones archiving our voices and concerns. In this video, Beyonce puts her stamp on many important things that matter, but have been ignored or mocked:

  • Hurricane Katrina
  • Black Lives
  • Police Brutality
  • Baby hairs & Afros
  • Long braids, colored wigs, and many other creative Black hairstyles
  • Cornbread(s) & collars greens

And, now, at the club, tons of Black women who’ve been hiding behind their Negroness- because that’s what we’ve been taught to do- will be proudly be shouting, “I like my Negro nose/ with Jackson Five nostrils,” and that’s fly. #BlackPower

 

Reading Black Women: “Gurrrl, You Have to Read This! The 2013 CLUTCH Reading Challenge”

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“Gurrrl, You Have to Read This”

It’s very fitting that my first blog of 2013 is about books written by Black women… well actually it’s a link to Tami Winfrey Harriss’ piece on Clutch Magazine, where she has compiled a list of 100 books written by Black women. She crafted the list by asking people on Twitter, and Facebook to name some of their favorite books written by Black women. Using the top 100 books that were most frequently named, she has created a reading challenge for viewers to read as many books from the list as they can in 2013. The list includes some of my favorite authors: Nikki Giovanni, Alice Walker, bell hooks, Audre Lorde, and Zadie Smith, but there are many books and/ or authors I have yet to explore. I’ve read 27 of the books- a little disappointed, but that number will change soon enough. Though I’m part of another Book Club that is compiled by close friends, I’m going to take on this challenge, and record my thoughts on the blog in the “Reading While Black” section.

I’m even including my lovely students! Coincidently, One Crazy Summer by Rita Williams-Garcia— a children’s novel I had planned on having my 5th grade scholars read this quarter– is on the list.

Here’s to reading and writing about it in 2013! Click here if you’d like to get your Black-women-read-on too.

2 Women: Why Nina Simone Shouldn’t be Portrayed by Zoe Saldana

This piece was written the day that it became public information that Zoe Saldana is to play Nina Simone in an upcoming biopic. Since then, multiple people, include Simone’s daughter—who found out about this information the same way the public did— have released statements. Simone’s daughter, who now goes by Simone, has not been contacted about the details of the biopic, or invited to participate in its making. I have posted her response to this news in the comments section.

Nina Simone is known for a musical genius armed with perfectly timed piano skills, and a voice coated with emotion and husky bravado. Authoring and popularizing songs like “Mississippi Goddamn,” and “Four Women,” The High Priestess of Soul fearlessly used her music to expose the race problem in the United States. Her ability to wear her heart on her piano keys in songs such as “Black is the Color,” and “The Other Woman” were, and still are both heartbreaking, and healing for women and men. There is much more that can be said for her musical brilliance and activism, but the announcement of having Zoe Saldana play Nina Simone in an upcoming project has inspired me to write about another aspect The High Priestess of Soul is known for—her appearance. Though it may seem taboo to focus on one’s appearance, let’s keep it real. Appearances, or “attractiveness” as defined by a European framework, influences, and moves many aspects of our society—particularly when considering people who live/d their lives in the public. Nina Simone is no exception.

Before I continue, I would like to disrupt the hateful, and mean responses to the news of Saldana playing Simone. While I passionately disagree with choosing Saldana to play Simone, my contention with the choice isn’t because Saldana is not talented, or because she’s not “Black enough.” In fact, such statements are contrary to Saldana’s talents and identity; I, indeed, do believe she is a talented actress, as well as an Afro-Latina woman, therefore Black woman. While one’s taste in Saldana’s talent is personal, it is problematic that her Blackness is contested. If anyone understands the complexities of the Black woman, and their experiences— it’s Nina Simone. Listen to “Four Women,” at least four times to wrap your head around the experiences Nina Simone captures in her lyrics. But, just as she maps out in her song, each Black woman’s experience is different, and is often dictated by their appearance. In her autobiography, I Put a Spell in You, Simone explains her song, “Four Women.”

The women in the song are black, but their skin tones range from light to dark and their ideas of beauty and their own importance are deeply influenced by that. All the song did was to tell what entered the minds of most black women in America when they thought about themselves: their complexions, their hair—straight, kinky, natural, which— and what other women thought of them. Black women didn’t know what the hell they wanted because they were defined by things they didn’t control, and until they had the confidence to define themselves they’d be stuck in the same mess forever—that was the point the song made (117).

Nina Simone’s appearance shaped her experience, and view of the world. While she was political for many of her choices, she was inherently political because of her appearance. As a darker skinned Black woman with features as bold as her music, Simone’s unconventional and striking appearance combated notions of European beauty. Though she began her career by appearing to conform to Western ideals of beauty as best as she could (i.e. straightened hair, Western clothing), as her songs became more political and combative to U.S. politics, so did the way she carried herself. In the mid-60s, Simone’s once straightened hair began to appear in beautiful African-inspired hairstyles  and afros. Her dress also became more Afrocentric, fitting in seamlessly with her new hairstyles, and natural beauty. Simone’s music was always her talent and her mode of protest, but her appearance now aligned her methods. She embraced the Black woman society told her to reject, and highlighted the Afrocentricity of her appearance, that at one time, caused her insecurity. As Simone continued her career, she did not conform to European ideals of beauty, but challenged them by gracefully embracing her African roots, showing us that Black is, indeed, beautiful.

Nina Simone early in her career.
A popular image of Nina Simone in the late 60s/early 70s.

Although she eventually chose to use her appearance as a mode of protest, we must ask ourselves, what was the emotional and mental journey it took her to get there? What did she need to do to combat a society that not only ridiculed Black people, but deemed her Blackness as unattractive? Simone ended up becoming a legacy, but the journey there was difficult and ugly, partly because she did not fit into the standard of beauty for a white woman, or a Black woman. Fifty years later, what is deemed as beautiful has not changed much, but Zoe Saldana—the woman who has been chosen to play Simone in an upcoming biopic— has been successful in Hollywood partly due to a beauty aligning more with a European framework. She has been able to work within the film industry in ways that are still unavailable to her darker sisters. In no way am I suggesting that Saldana has had it easy in Hollywood –she’s still a woman of color— but the way she has been able to navigate Hollywood is very different from our Nina Simones’ of today.

Yes, the person playing Nina Simone will be acting, and, of course, the expectation is not that the actress’ experience mirrors Simone’s. But it is pivotal that those in charge of this project are taking responsibility for how they depict Simone’s life, which connects with her appearance—particularly when considering the fact that Simone has been oppressed by systems like the ones narrating her story. If one is to write a version of her story, they must not only understand her music, but they must also understand the politics of her appearance. They must understand that Simone’s looks did matter—the color of her skin mattered, just as her African features and textured hair mattered. Not only did it matter, but it shaped her journey, and the decisions she made about her journey. One cannot write a version of any Black woman’s story without considering how their appearance shapes their experience—particularly when revealing the story of a Black woman living, performing, and activating in the 60s. Therefore, to have Zoe Saldana—a woman who has benefited because of things that Simone was never able to benefit from— play Simone in her biopic is irresponsible and tragic.

There have been some who have cried “colorism!” to the contention of having Saldana play Simone. It’s not fair, some argue, to exclude Saldana from playing Simone because her appearance juxtaposes Simone’s. This argument holds as much weight as “reverse racism.” As Simone points out in “Four Women,” Black women’s skin color, features, and hair texture shape their experiences. If we are to tell the story of Nina Simone, we must acknowledge the connection to appearance and experience by choosing an actress that is better suited physically. If we don’t, this is where we really see colorism. Darker skin Black women are constantly told “they don’t fit the part,” and when an opportunity that cries for a darker skinned sister is created, they are not even considered? How painfully ironic for the legacy and labor of our High Priestess of Soul.

Harlem Cultural Festival, 1969.