Long, but a good read...
NOTE: I didn't post this because it was about Beyonce, but it's a really good read. Check it out:
I UNDERSTAND THIS BEYONCE THING NOW
I read the "Proud Mary Performance" thread and I will admit I left
annoyed. It started off cool. We were just giving out opinions. Some
liked it, some didn't, (I thought it was okay, maybe I was expecting
more from all the hype I heard). Then the thread turns away from the
performance itself and turns into attacking and defending Beyonce as a
vocalist, artist, and as a person. Beyonce can sing. Beyonce can
entertain. We know this. So what's the problem? Why does she leave so
many of us cold and unmoved despite the red-hot passion she injects
into her performances? Why do you connect better with a Keysha Cole, a
Mary J. Blige, or a Fantasia? Are they better vocalists than Beyonce?
Better entertainers? Is it because they write their own songs? What's
the deal?
Reginald Hudlin, the director of "Boomerang" said something that stuck
with me. He said after the movie came out women came up to him and they
all said 2 things: (1) Halle Berry's character is who they were and (2)
Robin Givens' character is who they wanted to be.
Then this Beyonce thing started making sense to me. Fanstasia, Mary J.
Blige, that's who we are. That's who we look like, they reflect how we
live. Their songs, voices, or apperances may not always be pretty but
neither is life. They are not particularly intimidating, if they walked
into the room you would not really feel the need to keep an eye on your
man. Then, there is Beyonce, glammed up, pitch-perfect, and
over-the-top. She is who we (secretly) want to be. We want to have it
all together. We want the baller boyfriend, the globetrotting
lifestyle, we all want to be so fly that even our mistakes are hot.
Mary, Fantasia, and dem, are "real". They are our sisters, our
girlfriends telling it how it is, Beyonce is a Barbie doll singing
about life from some fairy tale land where she is the Queen of all that
is hot. Right?
Beyonce tried to be "real" in "Me, Myself, and I" and you saw right
through it. When did she ever have three kids in her home? **** please!
Now Mary and the rest, we believe them. You and about 3 of your
homegirls are going through the same **** they "wrote" about.
"I should have cheated". Leave me alone, go free yourself. You know
what. That's exactly what I went through, I should have cheated on that
*****! How did she know I went through that? She is so real !" I gotta
buy that!" She wrote that about me!
Actually she didn't. Many of these "female-empowerment anthems" sang by
our "real" soul sistas were written by men. Not that there is anything
wrong with that. Beyonce was performing "Proud Mary" to honor Tina
Turner. On Tina's last tour only one song on the set list was
co-written by her. The rest were songs written by men, or covers of
songs originally sang by men. Yet on stage she exuded a feminine
sensuality so powerful it didn't really matter who wrote the songs.
Thus, the best way to inject "realness" in a song, especially a song
you didn't even write, is through live performance.
But this isn't about performing, songwriting, or even singing. It is
about how we listen to music, that is we no longer listen to music, we
look at it. If you're rough around the edges you are "real". If you
have supermodel looks and a walk to match you are a manufactured pop
tart. Our eyes wouldn't deceive us. Mary looks like she's gone through
some stuff. She's had to have gone through some **** in her life.
Right?
Right?
Yes. The truth is they all have gone through something. It's called
womanhood. Beyonce may not wear her scars as openly but they are there
as they are on all of us. Whether you grew up in the suburbs or
projects. Whether you drive a Maybach or wait for the bus, we've all
had our loves, losses, joys, and dissapointments. There is a pain that
unites all women. And yet despite (or maybe because) of that pain we
tear each other down on daily basis.
How many times have you simply walked through the mall and got the
stank face from a girl who was "hating" on you. It happened to me. Me
and a friend of mine walked through the mall, and you would not believe
the negativity that was thrown at us. Girls giving us screw faces,
rolling their eyes, sucking their teeth. I left the mall very bothered.
What did I do? I just wanted to shop. Was all of that neccessary? They
didn't know a thing about me other than what they saw and automatically
and based soley off what they saw, they hated me.
"She thinks she's cute"
"Look at that fake ****"
My friend was ready to throw punches, I on the other hand was bothered
and a bit hurt, yet a big part of me wanted to walk through that mall
again, strut a little harder, toss my hair, and maybe throw in a wink
at one of their boyfriends.
If they insisted on not liking me, I might as well give them a reason.
Of course you won't admit to any of this. Although we have all been the
girl walking through the mall, being hated on, we have also all been
the girl on the sidelines throwing hate.
So we lie to ourselves and each other. We make it seem as though this
is a battle between "real" and "fake", "deep" and "shallow". Take Spike
Lee's "School Daze" for example. The "Wannabes" mocked the "Jigaboos"
for having dark skin, and shorter, kinkier hair while the "Jigaboos"
condemned the "Wannabes for relying too heavily on their Eurocentric
attributes and thus they were somehow "fake". But neither that movie
nor this Beyonce thing is about real hair or even about being "real".
Neither side was being "real" with themselves. The hurt the "Jigaboos"
felt from being told by society that they were inferior and less
attractive caused them to hate the "Wannabes" And the "Wannabes" hurt
from being told that they weren't "black" or "real" enough caused them
to lash out at the "Jigaboos".
A great number of us have not yet learned to love ourselves as complex
and unique indiviuals, aside from what the eyes see, aside from our
skin tones, outfits, or hair textures. Because of this our views of
others are equally superficial. Just like those girls in the mall can't
know anything about us based solely on what they see, how can we detect
"realness" based solely off what we see?
It occurred to me that Beyonce is that girl walking through the mall.
Strutting hard, tossing her hair, and mesmerizing your man. You could
walk up to her and ask her where she bought that purse or those shoes,
and compliment her for working it so hard, but we possess too much ego
and too many insecurities. We have not fully learned to show love to
ourselves so how can we give it to others? We all fight the battle of
who we are and who we want to be, and anyone who seems to be winning
that battle becomes the object of our hate. So we ball up our faces,
suck our teeth, and roll our eyes, as she struts on by.
There is something in that hate, that negativity, the whispers, the
angry glances that drives her. That's where she gets her scars. She
knows you want to be just like her, but if she lets you know that she
knows , you'll hate her even more, and deep down, although the hate
fuels her, she wants you to like her.
And secretly, you wanted to ask where she got those shoes, but she's probably stuck up anyway.
Right?
I UNDERSTAND THIS BEYONCE THING NOW
I read the "Proud Mary Performance" thread and I will admit I left
annoyed. It started off cool. We were just giving out opinions. Some
liked it, some didn't, (I thought it was okay, maybe I was expecting
more from all the hype I heard). Then the thread turns away from the
performance itself and turns into attacking and defending Beyonce as a
vocalist, artist, and as a person. Beyonce can sing. Beyonce can
entertain. We know this. So what's the problem? Why does she leave so
many of us cold and unmoved despite the red-hot passion she injects
into her performances? Why do you connect better with a Keysha Cole, a
Mary J. Blige, or a Fantasia? Are they better vocalists than Beyonce?
Better entertainers? Is it because they write their own songs? What's
the deal?
Reginald Hudlin, the director of "Boomerang" said something that stuck
with me. He said after the movie came out women came up to him and they
all said 2 things: (1) Halle Berry's character is who they were and (2)
Robin Givens' character is who they wanted to be.
Then this Beyonce thing started making sense to me. Fanstasia, Mary J.
Blige, that's who we are. That's who we look like, they reflect how we
live. Their songs, voices, or apperances may not always be pretty but
neither is life. They are not particularly intimidating, if they walked
into the room you would not really feel the need to keep an eye on your
man. Then, there is Beyonce, glammed up, pitch-perfect, and
over-the-top. She is who we (secretly) want to be. We want to have it
all together. We want the baller boyfriend, the globetrotting
lifestyle, we all want to be so fly that even our mistakes are hot.
Mary, Fantasia, and dem, are "real". They are our sisters, our
girlfriends telling it how it is, Beyonce is a Barbie doll singing
about life from some fairy tale land where she is the Queen of all that
is hot. Right?
Beyonce tried to be "real" in "Me, Myself, and I" and you saw right
through it. When did she ever have three kids in her home? **** please!
Now Mary and the rest, we believe them. You and about 3 of your
homegirls are going through the same **** they "wrote" about.
"I should have cheated". Leave me alone, go free yourself. You know
what. That's exactly what I went through, I should have cheated on that
*****! How did she know I went through that? She is so real !" I gotta
buy that!" She wrote that about me!
Actually she didn't. Many of these "female-empowerment anthems" sang by
our "real" soul sistas were written by men. Not that there is anything
wrong with that. Beyonce was performing "Proud Mary" to honor Tina
Turner. On Tina's last tour only one song on the set list was
co-written by her. The rest were songs written by men, or covers of
songs originally sang by men. Yet on stage she exuded a feminine
sensuality so powerful it didn't really matter who wrote the songs.
Thus, the best way to inject "realness" in a song, especially a song
you didn't even write, is through live performance.
But this isn't about performing, songwriting, or even singing. It is
about how we listen to music, that is we no longer listen to music, we
look at it. If you're rough around the edges you are "real". If you
have supermodel looks and a walk to match you are a manufactured pop
tart. Our eyes wouldn't deceive us. Mary looks like she's gone through
some stuff. She's had to have gone through some **** in her life.
Right?
Right?
Yes. The truth is they all have gone through something. It's called
womanhood. Beyonce may not wear her scars as openly but they are there
as they are on all of us. Whether you grew up in the suburbs or
projects. Whether you drive a Maybach or wait for the bus, we've all
had our loves, losses, joys, and dissapointments. There is a pain that
unites all women. And yet despite (or maybe because) of that pain we
tear each other down on daily basis.
How many times have you simply walked through the mall and got the
stank face from a girl who was "hating" on you. It happened to me. Me
and a friend of mine walked through the mall, and you would not believe
the negativity that was thrown at us. Girls giving us screw faces,
rolling their eyes, sucking their teeth. I left the mall very bothered.
What did I do? I just wanted to shop. Was all of that neccessary? They
didn't know a thing about me other than what they saw and automatically
and based soley off what they saw, they hated me.
"She thinks she's cute"
"Look at that fake ****"
My friend was ready to throw punches, I on the other hand was bothered
and a bit hurt, yet a big part of me wanted to walk through that mall
again, strut a little harder, toss my hair, and maybe throw in a wink
at one of their boyfriends.
If they insisted on not liking me, I might as well give them a reason.
Of course you won't admit to any of this. Although we have all been the
girl walking through the mall, being hated on, we have also all been
the girl on the sidelines throwing hate.
So we lie to ourselves and each other. We make it seem as though this
is a battle between "real" and "fake", "deep" and "shallow". Take Spike
Lee's "School Daze" for example. The "Wannabes" mocked the "Jigaboos"
for having dark skin, and shorter, kinkier hair while the "Jigaboos"
condemned the "Wannabes for relying too heavily on their Eurocentric
attributes and thus they were somehow "fake". But neither that movie
nor this Beyonce thing is about real hair or even about being "real".
Neither side was being "real" with themselves. The hurt the "Jigaboos"
felt from being told by society that they were inferior and less
attractive caused them to hate the "Wannabes" And the "Wannabes" hurt
from being told that they weren't "black" or "real" enough caused them
to lash out at the "Jigaboos".
A great number of us have not yet learned to love ourselves as complex
and unique indiviuals, aside from what the eyes see, aside from our
skin tones, outfits, or hair textures. Because of this our views of
others are equally superficial. Just like those girls in the mall can't
know anything about us based solely on what they see, how can we detect
"realness" based solely off what we see?
It occurred to me that Beyonce is that girl walking through the mall.
Strutting hard, tossing her hair, and mesmerizing your man. You could
walk up to her and ask her where she bought that purse or those shoes,
and compliment her for working it so hard, but we possess too much ego
and too many insecurities. We have not fully learned to show love to
ourselves so how can we give it to others? We all fight the battle of
who we are and who we want to be, and anyone who seems to be winning
that battle becomes the object of our hate. So we ball up our faces,
suck our teeth, and roll our eyes, as she struts on by.
There is something in that hate, that negativity, the whispers, the
angry glances that drives her. That's where she gets her scars. She
knows you want to be just like her, but if she lets you know that she
knows , you'll hate her even more, and deep down, although the hate
fuels her, she wants you to like her.
And secretly, you wanted to ask where she got those shoes, but she's probably stuck up anyway.
Right?