Well hot damn! I’m happier than a dog with two tails. We finally have our anthem, our rallying song, our James Brown’s “Say It Loud, I’m Black and I’m proud!”
Beyonce’s “Formation” screamed: I am ALL things Black. I am proud. And I don’t give a fuck what you think about it. I think of “Formation” as Beyonce’s letter to America in song and video format. Were it a letter, I think it might read something similar to this:
For almost all of my life, I’ve busted my ass to be a star. To crossover and be loved by all, I have learned that you had to be acceptable, uncontroversial and non-offensive; so I’ve never shared an opinion. I did as my handlers directed me to do: Kept my mouth shut. smiled, sang and danced incessantly for the last 30 years.
The formula worked masterfully because frankly, I’m crazy rich, I’m ridiculously famous and I’m enormously successful. As a matter of fact, I just might be the next Bill Gates. I know many will be sweatin’ me after this letter. I suspect there will be a bit of outrage because I am that relevant, that powerful. You know that you are that bitch when you cause all this conversation. But that’s the very reason that I feel so very comfortable writing this letter. You’ve made me unfuckablewith. So, if you are offended by anything that I say going forward, I will have to politely tell you to fuck off, to go fuck yourself, and then to do it again.
Speaking of fu@k!ng, let me tell you about me–the real unmanufactured me. I appreciate being served well. If a Jay takes good care of me, I reward him with what he loves most after me and Blue Ivy — food (you know –you’ve seen his stomach in the pictures from our yachting vacations). That brotha’ particularly loves some garlic cheese biscuits from Red Lobster. All the caviar and lobster in the world doesn’t make him happier than those greasy biscuits.
We try to eat well (I’m sure you heard about our Vegan diet); but Jay and I both like our good, Southern food (no mistaking it, I am a true country girl). Ain’t nothing better than a plate of collard greens with some homemade cornbread (although Jiffy ain’t bad). Sprinkle some Crystal hot sauce on them greens and you are in business (I got hot sauce in my bag).
I don’t know if it’s the fire from the hot sauce or the butter in the cornbread, but you must admit: there is nothing on this earth more beautiful that a Black woman. We slay. We, Black women are baaaaad from the back and the front. I celebrate my Negro features—my Negro nose with Jackson five nostrils. And I want my baby girl, Blue Ivy, to celebrate her natural beauty too, which is why I like my baby hair, with baby hair and afros.
We are a colorful and creative people. We are Martin Luther King, Jr., Black Cowboys, Break dancing, cars with hydraulics, Baptist churches, preachers, sagging pants, grills, weaves, afros, natural hair, basketball, furs, twerking, crayfish and sisterhood.
We are powerful. With us all things are possible. So don’t allow yourself to be tricked into believing that the only way Black people can be successful is if we sell our souls to the devil–that Illuminati crap. Since Madam C.J. Walker we’ve been making millions. Since Alexander Miles, George Carver, Charles Drew, we’ve been creating. Since forever, we’ve been making music (only our style, our lyrics, our music was stolen). There wasn’t going to be any Elvis’ on my watch though — if I could help it. It is simple: I had one dream and I worked my ass off day and night to achieve it. I see it, I want it, I dream it, I work hard, I grind ‘til I own it. Selling the myth that you must sell your soul to have money is propaganda and a way to handicap us as a people. Haters spread that bullshit. I twirl all my haters; Albino alligators.
There are always attacks on us as a people because to some, we are a threat. Look at the way our people are senselessly being murdered by the people we rely on for protection—the cops. I beg them to Stop Shooting Us. But I believe that to some our lives just aren’t as valued. This was evidenced by the way the government handled the victims of Katrina. People still are displaced—11 years later.
But because some don’t value us and our lives, we must know that Black Lives Matter. You matter. I matter. And we are phenomenal. Own your power. I slay, okay, I slay. We gon’ slay!
Peace and Hair Grease,