By now, the web is still stirring up reactions and analytical summations after Beyonce dropped her latest and perhaps greatest piece of work – thus far.
After a week of high anticipation – HBO played host to Lemonade – a sweeping epic that was championed through strikingly primal visuals and the heavy-laden words of Somali poet Warsan Shire.
It was a gorgeous collage of imagery that captivated the ire and the joy of Mrs. Knowles’ very private and public life. It was also a 12-chapter biography that solidly presented the facts of what it takes to be one of the most lauded women of our time.
Like her equally powerful hubby Jay-Z can attest – “It ain’t easy!”
The trials and tribulations that haunt the existence of black women in America has never been a secret and as much as the slain men of color litter the streets like careless garbage – the real woes of black mothers is a system that harkens back to the beginning of time.
The struggles that plague the black household is unique in deliverance simply because of the emotional and physical betrayal of slavery that disconnected the fibers that was supposed to carry the familial heritage for generations.
The crippling persecutions still hold much validation as is evident in the silent cries that soaked up the screen as the mothers of the black men that were killed for the sake of their being echoed through Lemonade’s pleas for recognition.
Seems the themes that ran through each vignette was Beyonce’s need to be recognized for her ability to adequately recall the sweet pain of being under the command of a not so perfect father who propelled her into the arms of an even less perfect husband.
The homage to her grandmother who during her 90th birthday celebration acknowledged her ability to survive the unthinkable by making “Lemons out of Lemonade.”
This avid recognition of what it truly takes to be the caregiver without the companionship of a provider who helps to consume the achiness of every day living – was the undercurrent of Lemonade – despite the allusions of betrayal, marital strife and “Becky” with the “good hair”.
Beyonce’s latest offering was well executed and astonishingly affecting as the vibes of her vocals catapulted the strongest scenes that showed her bare and in the spiritual conformity of her truth.
Despite all that was divulged – the mastery of Lemonade has to be what wasn’t revealed even though so much was starkly divulged.
For a production of this magnititude to manifest with layered gusto – it is possible that we saw what we needed to see but the rest lies within a woman who is still completing the remaining chapters in her still very young life.
The army of conspirators including star athlete Serena Williams and actress and young activist, Amandla Stenberg was a special example of why therapeutic sisterhood can never be admonished.
This was a very heartfelt love letter to black women who thrive on individual resiliency almost to a fault – because it is a cultural indictment based on crimes they didn’t commit.
But the celebration of that spirit is what makes Lemonade the searing promise that being a black woman doesn’t have to hurt quite so much even though most of the times it does.
Beyonce played out her recognition and status as the woman who is proud and sorrowful at the same time but refuses to tread the darkened paths alone.
And after being feted by her love song for the ages – she won’t have to. And neither will we.