Lemonade pt 3 

Here is my one year reflection of Lemonade  written in April 23, 2017;
“One year ago to the month I wrote a critic of Beyonce’s Lemonade. from the moment I wrote my original impromptu critic of bell hook’s critic of Lemonade on my flight to New York City the place where I now live (interesting and purposeful how things come full circle), I knew I wanted to give myself a year to allow the grandeur and excitement of the moment to subside and more accurately access my feelings

I’d followed Beyonce since I was 12 years old and as I grew a more accurate and defined critical lens, I looked at her and saw we were in two different places. Even into my adulthood Beyonce has always held space in my life no matter her politic but from 2003 when she released her debut solo album to last year, thirteen years later in 2016 when she released Lemonade. There has been a true and undeniable evolution. 

In moments where I close my eyes I see and visualize clips from the visual album and envision myself amongst these women. While I do feel there could have been more of a conscious and collaborative effort to incorporate trans women (beyond over glorified trans mascots like Laverne Cox I am personally fine with her not being able to make the album), and disabled women and fat women, there is always room for growth. These black bodies, admired, beautiful in their purest existence, in unity celebrated and effortlessly normalized. 

 The truth is 12 months after the release of this visual album I am still, if not more in love with Lemonade than the first time I saw it. Its hard to appreciate the true power without watching it. Nearly every song on the album resonated with me. 

When I listen to the music and watch the mini movie I am always transformed and a sense of reverence comes over me. Nearly ever song resonated with me 6 inch, Love Drought, Hold up, Formation, All night, Don’t Hurt Yourself, Daddy Lessons, Sorry, and Freedom.
Perfect? No. But how attainable and real is perfect? To me it was impressive and admirable to see Beyonce’s feminism grow and evolve so visibly. I definitely believe Beyonce has a road ahead of her in her search for the purest form of liberated black feminism, but I think we all do. For the first time in my life I saw such a powerful presence and motivator and hero of my childhood, my past merge with the the ideologies and beliefs and most important values to me of today. My childhood hero, Beyonce and my life today, the fight for equity, justice, and liberation collide and come full circle. “

Lemonade pt 2 

On May 11, 2016 I responded to bell hooks critic of Lemonade here’s what I had to say then;

 “I’ve spent sometime reading and reflecting and rereading over my flight to New York. What reading am I referring to? The Bell Hooks response to Lemonade. 
Before reading I was hesitant to even begin because I respect both of these powerful black women for vastly different reasons. I knew Bell Hooks was not a fan of Beyoncé if for no other reason than her having once refer to Beyoncé as a domestic terrorist. 
I must admit I do agree with Bell Hooks on all of her critiques of lemonade except one very specific stance. Bell hooks says that we need to move past the pain, anger and violence. I agree BUT I also think it is is important to allow space to voice and express the much deserved anger and frustration in a way that releases it. I agree combative violence against men does nothing but make female bodies look at best angry and unstable BUT Beyoncé expressed/ released the anger and frustration in a way that was of minimal violence. She made lemonade literally she created an album to express in a fictitious way her feelings. AND simultaneously served her capitalistic needs by providing entertainment. Seeing Beyoncé smash cars and Windows is much more visually stimulating than seeing Beyoncé and Jay Z at the family therapist at the end of the day she has albums to sell (as I’m sure you understand because you have books to sell and your expertise to sell) it’s a part of survival and yes capitalism that we all contribute to. In order to exist and simply survive in a capitalist world ESPECIALLY as a ball of marginalized identities it’s necessary to conform in some aspects that’s the reality. 

I absolutely love what Bell Hooks said about the effortless intent to incorporate black female bodies into the film because it was completely normalized and even celebrated in the hour long mini movie. 

I do also appreciate Hooks’ thoughts on how violence acts in general will not combat or equal out the violence of men because it will not.

On a final note I appreciate and agree with the hesitation to lean in too far and trust Beyoncé definition of feminism. As much as I love Bey we cannot forget the privilege she currently holds and some privilege she’s always had. Growing up upper middle class and now upper class she hasn’t had the experiences of many people of color. She holds lots of class privilege which buys her out of some (but not all) of these experiences. As Hooks mentioned it’s evident that patriarchy still exists in Beyoncé’s definition of feminism which is yes problematic. But Morality and life lessons should not be derived from Beyoncé for we all have our own path and road to our own truth. “

Lemonade pt 1

On April 23, 2016 Beyonce released the Lemonade visual  album. On May 9, 2016 writer, feminist and social activist bell hooks release her office critic of Lemonade, this is what she had to say; 
“Fresh lemonade is my drink of choice. In my small Kentucky town, beautiful black, brown, and white girls set up their lemonade stands and practice the art of money making—it’s business. As a grown black woman who believes in the manifesto “Girl, get your money straight” my first response to Beyoncé’s visual album, Lemonade, was WOW—this is the business of capitalist money making at its best.
Viewers who like to suggest Lemonade was created solely or primarily for black female audiences are missing the point. Commodities, irrespective of their subject matter, are made, produced, and marketed to entice any and all consumers. Beyoncé’s audience is the world and that world of business and money-making has no color.
What makes this production—this commodity—daring is its subject matter. Obviously Lemonade positively exploits images of black female bodies—placing them at the center, making them the norm. In this visual narrative, there are diverse representations (black female bodies come in all sizes, shapes, and textures with all manner of big hair). Portraits of ordinary everyday black women are spotlighted, poised as though they are royalty. The unnamed, unidentified mothers of murdered young black males are each given pride of place. Real life images of ordinary, overweight not dressed up bodies are placed within a visual backdrop that includes stylized, choreographed, fashion plate fantasy representations. Despite all the glamorous showcasing of Deep South antebellum fashion, when the show begins Beyoncé as star appears in sporty casual clothing, the controversial hoodie. Concurrently, the scantily-clothed dancing image of athlete Serena Williams also evokes sportswear. (Speaking of commodification, in the real life frame Beyoncé’s new line of sportswear, Ivy Park, is in the process of being marketed right now).
Lemonade offers viewers a visual extravaganza—a display of black female bodies that transgresses all boundaries. It’s all about the body, and the body as commodity. This is certainly not radical or revolutionary. From slavery to the present day, black female bodies, clothed and unclothed, have been bought and sold. What makes this commodification different in Lemonade is intent; its purpose is to seduce, celebrate, and delight—to challenge the ongoing present day devaluation and dehumanization of the black female body. Throughout Lemonade the black female body is utterly-aestheticized—its beauty a powerful in your face confrontation. This is no new offering. Images like these were first seen in Julie Dash’s groundbreaking film Daughters of the Dust shot by the brilliant cinematographer Arthur Jafa. Many of the black and white still images of women and nature are reminiscent of the transformative and innovative contemporary photography of Carrie Mae Weems. She has continually offered decolonized radical revisioning of the black female body.
It is the broad scope of Lemonade’s visual landscape that makes it so distinctive—the construction of a powerfully symbolic black female sisterhood that resists invisibility, that refuses to be silent. This in and of itself is no small feat—it shifts the gaze of white mainstream culture. It challenges us all to look anew, to radically revision how we see the black female body. However, this radical repositioning of black female images does not truly overshadow or change conventional sexist constructions of black female identity.
Even though Beyoncé and her creative collaborators daringly offer multidimensional images of black female life, much of the album stays within a conventional stereotypical framework, where the black woman is always a victim. Although based on the real-life experience of Beyoncé, Lemonade is a fantasy fictional narrative with Beyoncé starring as the lead character. This work begins with a story of pain and betrayal highlighting the trauma it produces. The story is as old as the ballad of “Frankie and Johnny” (“he was my man alright, but he done me wrong”). Like the fictional Frankie, Beyoncé’s character responds to her man’s betrayal with rage. She wreaks violence. And even though the father in the song “Daddy’s Lessons” gives her a rifle warning her about men, she does not shoot her man. She dons a magnificently designed golden yellow gown, boldly struts through the street with baseball bat in hand, randomly smashing cars. In this scene, the goddess-like character of Beyoncé is sexualized along with her acts of emotional violence, like Wagner’s “Ride of the Valkyries” she destroys with no shame. Among the many mixed messages embedded in Lemonade is this celebration of rage. Smug and smiling in her golden garb, Beyoncé is the embodiment of a fantastical female power, which is just that—pure fantasy. Images of female violence undercut a central message embedded in Lemonade that violence in all its forms, especially the violence of lies and betrayal, hurts.
Contrary to misguided notions of gender equality, women do not and will not seize power and create self-love and self-esteem through violent acts. Female violence is no more liberatory than male violence. And when violence is made to look sexy and eroticized, as in the Lemonade sexy-dress street scene, it does not serve to undercut the prevailing cultural sentiment that it is acceptable to use violence to reinforce domination, especially in relations between men and women. Violence does not create positive change.
Even though Beyoncé and her creative collaborators make use of the powerful voice and words of Malcolm X to emphasize the lack of respect for black womanhood, simply showcasing beautiful black bodies does not create a just culture of optimal well being where black females can become fully self-actualized and be truly respected.
Honoring the self, loving our bodies, is an appropriate stage in the construction of healthy self-esteem. This aspect of Lemonade is affirming. Certainly, to witness Miss Hattie, the 90-year-old grandmother of Jay-Z, give her personal testimony that she has survived by taking the lemons life handed her and making lemonade is awesome. All the references to honoring our ancestors and elders in Lemonade inspire. However, concluding this narrative of hurt and betrayal with caring images of family and home do not serve as adequate ways to reconcile and heal trauma.
Concurrently, in the world of art-making, a black female creator as powerfully placed as Beyoncé can both create images and present viewers with her own interpretation of what those images mean. However, her interpretation cannot stand as truth. For example, Beyoncé uses her non-fictional voice and persona to claim feminism, even to claim, as she does in a recent issue of Elle magazine, “to give clarity to the true meaning” of the term, but her construction of feminism cannot be trusted. Her vision of feminism does not call for an end to patriarchal domination. It’s all about insisting on equal rights for men and women. In the world of fantasy feminism, there are no class, sex, and race hierarchies that breakdown simplified categories of women and men, no call to challenge and change systems of domination, no emphasis on intersectionality. In such a simplified worldview, women gaining the freedom to be like men can be seen as powerful. But it is a false construction of power as so many men, especially black men, do not possess actual power. And indeed, it is clear that black male cruelty and violence towards black women is a direct outcome of patriarchal exploitation and oppression.
In her fictive world, Beyoncé can name black female pain, poignantly articulated by the passionate poetry of Somali-British poet Warsan Shire, and move through stages evoked by printed words: Intuition, Denial, Forgiveness, Hope, Reconciliation. In this fictive world, black female emotional pain can be exposed and revealed. It can be given voice: this is a vital and essential stage of freedom struggle, but it does not bring exploitation and domination to an end. No matter how hard women in relationships with patriarchal men work for change, forgive, and reconcile, men must do the work of inner and outer transformation if emotional violence against black females is to end. We see no hint of this in Lemonade. If change is not mutual then black female emotional hurt can be voiced, but the reality of men inflicting emotional pain will still continue (can we really trust the caring images of Jay Z which conclude this narrative).
It is only as black women and all women resist patriarchal romanticization of domination in relationships can a healthy self-love emerge that allows every black female, and all females, to refuse to be a victim. Ultimately Lemonade glamorizes a world of gendered cultural paradox and contradiction. It does not resolve. As Beyoncé proudly proclaims in the powerful anthem “Freedom”: “I had my ups and downs, but I always find the inner-strength to pull myself up.” To truly be free, we must choose beyond simply surviving adversity, we must dare to create lives of sustained optimal well-being and joy. In that world, the making and drinking of lemonade will be a fresh and zestful delight, a real life mixture of the bitter and the sweet, and not a measure of our capacity to endure pain, but rather a celebration of our moving beyond pain.
–bell hooks  “

In The Cis Jungle by Lé Thompson 

In The Cis-Jungle, everyone wants to be an individual and be different, without making a difference to the status quo. But then there are those that shine brighter than the status quo, but that shine is often birth from rejection and fear by people who don’t understand the nature of accepting people that don’t mirror them – the status quo.
The status quo are cis-gender people that live their lives in freedom from being rejected from housing; being rejected from medical services; being rejected from employment; being rejected from their family, because they are the norm – the status quo. For those of us that are not the status quo, the gender non-conforming people; trans-people; inter-sex people; LGBTQ+ people; we have to navigate this jungle as an actual jungle that has real danger. Our lives aren’t a fictional stories like the jungle book where Mowgli find his people at the end of the story. No, in this jungle, the cis-jungle people are dying, but people are also thriving, and if you’re a successful story, there’s the concern of being tokenized, but that’s a different conversation for a later time.
That said, The Cis-Jungle is a dangerous and magical place, and maybe one day, the majority of cis-people will allow themselves to challenge the status quo, because the status quo hurt them first, then everyone else second.