Patience. If it’s a skill I didn’t master before… I am an expert on it now. “Good things come to those who wait,” the old adage says, and on April 23, 2016 I received a very good thing. I received Lemonade, a seamless production compiled with images and words that stirred my soul. This premiere was the celebration of a woman - black and beautiful as ever; vicious, kind, complex, human as ever. It celebrated all women who could relate to the journey unconditional love takes you on. It explored an unconditional love of self, an unconditional love for others, for life. And because of this, I saw my story being told. And because of that, I was taken completely by surprise.
Watching Lemonade was more than zoning out to my favorite tracks and visualizing myself singing the words to each song. It was an experience more immersive than I’d prepared for. There’s a human element present, and it’s presence is strong. Although our lives are dramatically different, the concept of learning lessons from my father despite a strained relationship, loving someone who threw that very love back in my face, wanting to cut away at any imperfections to fit the mold of another person’s sense of “ideal”, losing sight of the subtle joys of life, and resurgence after gaining your footing from a rough landing was just familiar to me as it is to Beyoncé.
Interwoven in her catalogue of songs that cross various genres are words spoken into me and out of me at the same time. Shit. Not even 5 minutes in and I can already see how much she’s grown as an artist, and how much more room I have to grow as an individual. “Pray You Catch Me” had me wishing that all the times I’d stayed silent I could be traded out for a more vocal version of myself; a boy who didn’t let his insecurities run rampant in his own mind and instead fall upon the ears of another, the ears of his lover. The will to battle our problems alone conflicted with my dignity. What luck… what a fucking curse.
“Hold Up” pleased me. It’s a “let me remind you who I am… who you must not know you’re fucking with” type of tune- but it is the type of person I have always tried to avoid being. The type to get mad and get even. I didn’t ever want to harbor the type of hurt that would drive me to hurt, and I’ve never gotten the chance to experience that release. But man… watching Beyoncé deliver sluggers with that bat (that we now learn is named ‘Hot Sauce’… swag) in a gorgeous gown with a smile dancing happily in the streets did something to me. It made me feel good. It was a bit of closure in my head, and I had the opportunity to tell past lover, “you fucked up, so fuck you”.
If this is what you truly want… I can wear her skin over mine.
Her hands as gloves… her teeth… as confetti.
Her skull, a cap. Her sternum, my bedazzled cane.
We can pose for a photograph. All three of us, immortalized. You and your perfect girl.
Anger - an emotion which can mix itself into your insecurities and make you plunge until you become someone else. Lashing out is initial. Turbulence is the solution. Tell him this is what he asked for. When you play me… you play yourself. Then came “Sorry”, which gave the OK to be selfish after unsuccessfully being selfless. Accepting “sorry” isn’t an option either. Recognize a fucked up situation when you’re in one. I am no one’s fucking menu selection, so I’ll make your decision easier and relinquish myself. Thank you, and you’re welcome.
A cauldron full of black magic like I’ve never seen. Lemonade’s accompanying visuals took me there and brought me the fuck back. Simplicity speaks volumes, and if there’s anything that I know about cinematic symbols, it’s the skillful use of the color red. Cue “6 INCH”, a sassy surfacing of sounds that owns sex and sexuality. Even in a blinding red hue, the vision of this video is clear: she is a woman after her what she wants, and what she wants, she gets. There’s power in what a woman has to offer. This song even made me feel sexy, and knowing that, if done right, one can reach the metaphysical by way of the physical. Damn, this shit is good.
She delivers a spoken word that brings me to quite a revelation: sometimes in love, we look for the things we lack in other aspects of our life. It is that very absence that we’re so used to, that it sometimes becomes what we look for. A comfort enveloped in discomfort. Am I talking about your husband, or your father? A question that needs no response, but rather a moment to reflect. Classic mindfuck.
Quick flashback to my childhood, as “Daddy Lessons” begins to play. I want to start clapping, but I’m still too fucking hooked that every now and then I remind myself to breathe. This song, I can already tell is underappreciated yet very genius. Countryoncé, bitches. The lyrics carry me through the joys of having a father teach you valuable lessons in his presence to prepare for his absence. I know this feeling. My dad thinks highly enough to protect me from the world, but still remains the biggest obstacle in my life. I see a bit of him in nearly every man I’ve ever been with. Quite the conundrum, but I thank him for all of the things he’s taught me in his presence as well as his absence. Thank you, Beyoncé.
“Love Drought” brought tears to my eyes. It was the most visually captivating for me, and the song was so beautiful in production and lyrical content. There’s hope in any moment of strife as far as relationships go. It takes two souls to want the same thing of one another. It takes accountability and responsibility. It requires being proactive instead of reactive - identifying the issues and looking for ways to reconcile. If we’re gonna heal… let it be glorious. There is nothing like overcoming the bad and reminding yourself of what makes you feel so good. The tears didn’t stop flowing, because “Sandcastles” begin to play. Beyoncé seemed the most human here. Yes, even her life is imperfect. She, too, has insecurities that she works on with her husband. Her relationship has also seen the darkest of times, and has been threatened by many curve balls. But every setback is a setup for a comeback. Nothing is perfect about real love, and real love requires real pain to know what real love feels like. Sometimes your options are exhausted until you’re forced to let go. Often times, you realize how resilient you are, together and individually. Yes…. yes.
Knowing yourself is so important. What are your capabilities? What is your capacity, how much can you take? What is your source of comfort when nothing else is available? For me, it’s faith. Faith in a higher power - sometimes it has a name, sometimes it has a gender. Every single time… it’s effective. We live in a time where it’s questionable if society is moving forward or back tracking. I wouldn’t be me if I didn’t know how to be optimistic while accepting reality. Balance is key. “Forward” held my hand and lead me into “Freedom”, a motherfucking anthem. I felt my heart pulsate through my neck. I think of my mother, who is both a worrier and a warrior. I think of the little faith she has in society, and the 10 Hail Mary’s she recites for my brother and I when we leave out the front door. Two queer men of color, let loose from her grasp and into a shark tank. Our names are etched into damnation twofold as sinners by race and by sexual orientation. Her love for us outweighs her disdain for the world and we need not speak a word to one another about it because we know a mother’s instinct is unmatched. We fear for our lives just as she does, but we’ll never let her know. We are her protectors. So we fight our fight, and hers, on the front lines. And even as the dust settles, and we stand together, battered and bruised, we live life preparing for the next wave of chaos. Freedom! Freedom! Where are you? Cause I need freedom too.
Lemonade brought everything in full circle. “All Night” starts playing. Images of couples flash across my screen, and all I can think of is my boyfriend - someone who, in such a short time, has managed to opened my mind to accepting how worthy of love I am. Our bad times are just as important as our good, because at the end of every day, all I want to do is kiss up, and rub up, and feel up on him (LOL). He is a source of comfort for me. Love is a source of comfort for me. His love is a source of comfort for me. This, in addition to other things like a mother’s love, a best friend’s love, my love for life itself, is my lemonade. It’s what I remind myself of every time I cry, and every time I smile. And just like that, I’m at ease. So I thank you again, Beyoncé, for shaking me up for the sixth consecutive time, for being true to your artistry and using your powers (because I really think you, and all black women, are magical). This is no exaggeration. It’s just what the fuck I needed.
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