I wrote a piece this morning on Beyonce’s new video “Formation” for The Root. I know I always forget to update this site with my stories on The Root (my bad), but look! I’m doing it now!
Well, that was black.
Cornbread and collard greens black. “Hot sauce in my bag” black. Southern black. Dirty South black. Your grandma telling you to go cut down a switch black.
Did you know Beyoncé was black?
If you didn’t know, if you though she was some ethereal, race-less, colorless transformative nymph who could doo-wop pop whatever you projected upon her, then you found out you were wrong on Saturday, Feb. 6, 2016, when “Formation (Dirty)” dropped.
But I don’t like “ratchet” trap Beyoncé, says someone, somewhere who wishes she’d go back to singing “Single Ladies” or “Irreplaceable.” Someone who likes their booty-popping as far removed from Louisiana bounce as possible. Someone who can’t handle all this blackness and just learned the world “ratchet” was pejorative, another way of saying “ghetto.” Another way of saying something is black. Another way of calling you “hood,” “thug” or “n–ger.”
To that person I say, “You’ll be all right because Beyoncé doesn’t belong to you.”
She belongs to herself, herself who apparently loves Red Lobster, the Jackson 5’s original noses and her baby girl’s afro.