“We decided last night to take a picnic of baguettes, rum and chocolate to the Eiffel Tower for the night and do the typical Paris thing. Over dinner (while being soaked by some massive fountain) we started discussing Queen B, as you do, and decided that she would probably like the Eiffel Tower. And if Beyoncé liked it then surely she’d put a ring on it. Being the witty humans are, we collectively drew the snap chat photo posted.

After this we went for a walk down by the river where the over powering smell of stale urine flooded the air, and pooled on the ground. Desperate to find a toilet ourselves we approached a docked boat where the captain of said boat let us use his toilet (Bless his cotton socks). Once we finely descended from our trance we noticed a group of about 20 people standing by one of the fancy looking entrances up to the top of the Eiffel Tower. Now this is not the entrance of mere peasants like you and me. This was the entrance of celebrities. How did I know that? Well the grandeur of this entrance compared to the regular old barricaded queuing lines was one hint. The other was the massive bodyguards by the door, the red carpet and the sea of photographers. Thinking to ourselves that this looked exciting we joined the group and wait at the ready with cameras and phones for probably some bad French pop singer or politician to walk out. You know those surreal moments when something you weren’t prepared for happens and you feel like your head isn’t attached to your body any more?

Well when Beyoncé herself walked down the stairs only a few meters away from us, I had one of those moments. Like all good fan girls should screaming ‘i love you Beyoncé! I almost had a stroke when she looked at us. She was quickly in the car and it was over in a few seconds although my excitement remained for the rest of the night. Keep in mind when we drew the earlier snap chat photo had no knowledge that Beyoncé was even in Paris! After all that we decided it was time to go home and soak up the bliss of the evening.”

Credits: Rachel Stevens


Above: Conseula Harris, 1938
Below: Beyonce Knowles-Carter, 2014

If people took the time to explore the root of what’s been dubbed as the “twerk,” they’d realise its origins lie in West Africa. It’s strikingly similar to the Mapouka dance from Côte d'Ivoire, a dance done by women that focuses on the buttocks. It’s existed for centuries.

Perhaps twerking doesn’t have the technical depth or chronicled history of ballet. It isn’t viewed as a dance scholarship worthy discipline like tap. However, it has an equally interesting history. And when done properly, it takes tremendous skill and attention.

Basically “twerking” isn’t new. Its ubiquity may seem sudden, but mainstream media’s merely catching up to something that’s existed in black global culture for years. (x)

Mrs. Carter promised mommy that if she lost the ‘Album of the Year’ award she would take a pic with her. I don’t think she thought in a million years that she would lose.