Most of us know that Beyoncé made the world stop — again — with the release of her new single and video, “Formation.” Contrary to the reactions Beyoncé’s work typically evokes, Beyoncé has received major criticism surrounding some of the themes in her video.
As a black womyn, connected with many black womyn across the diaspora via social media, almost everyone felt empowered, motivated and confident because Beyoncé outright owned her “blackness” and the black lived experience in the United States as a whole.
Not to say that it’s her first time doing so, but the references to her “Creole and Negro” ancestry, her appreciation for black phenotypic hair and facial features and her acknowledgement of police brutality against black bodies, as well as the negligence that black Hurricane Katrina victims in New Orleans suffered at the hands of our government definitely makes it safe to say that this is both a #Blackmagic and #Blackempowerment anthem.
One thing in particular that struck me was her use of a “black womyn army,” who were dressed similarly to the Black Panthers of the late 20th century during the Black Power Era at her halftime performance at the Super Bowl. This idea combined with the representation of black womyn from across the diaspora within the video made me realize that this could also be seen as a “black womyn empowerment” anthem. However, I’m writing this article for reasons other than to analyze Beyoncé’s intent behind and content within her new video.
I would like to focus on how Beyoncé, in her “exceptional blackness,” is not a representation of the power and visibility that black womyn in everyday life have or experience. This is not to say that Beyoncé has never experienced sexism or been the victim of the ugly, white supremacist, hetero-patriarchal society in which we live; however, her status in the world right now, regardless of her blackness and womyn-ness, places her in a completely different stratosphere. If I were to put that statement into perspective on campus, I would first analyze the ways in which black womyn leaders and black male leaders on this campus have totally different experiences.
During my first year of college, there was one black womyn whose example I promised to follow: Deja Moss ’14. Deja was the representation of everything intelligent, strong, beautiful, confident, resilient, classy and respected. There was a certain level of respect that she demanded from everyone on this campus, including administrators, and she got it. Because I only got to know Deja during her senior year, I did not really get a chance to see what she meant by, “You have to demand respect, because otherwise, as a black womyn, they won’t give it to you.”
Only when I began to blossom into a leader in my own right on this campus did I understand what she meant. There have been countless times when I have watched my sisters, fellow leaders, have their opinions invalidated, ignored or not even requested to be brought into conversations surrounding various issues on this campus. Maybe this exclusion of the black womyn perspective isn’t done solely by administration either. Maybe it comes from within our own community.
I acknowledge that sometimes it is difficult as a person with a primary marginalized identity, blackness, to recognize when you are in a position of power, man-ness, and how your oppression blurs your ability to recognize when you are playing a direct role in the oppression of your sisters. However, because we already experience both intentional and unintentional exclusion of our opinions and perspectives from non-people of color in various capacities on this campus, we need you to be intentional in respecting us, valuing us, and including our opinions and perspectives, not just as your sisters but as leaders on this campus.
It is impossible and unrealistic to demand respect and inclusion from those in administration and academic departments on this campus if we do not first get it from our brothers. Your sisters are in formation, ready to be leaders and powerhouses, and we need your support in that.
Emerald Rutledge, a contributing writer for the Voice, can be reached for comment at ERutledge17@wooster.edu.