Don’t say you love me if I’m only gray to you. It’s either black or white, yes or no, up or down. There’s no ‘well maybe she’ll work’. I am a gift to you and if you do not cherish me like the queen I am, then leave and stop wasting my time. If you want to be with me, you have to work for it. I am not a prize to be won but I am the judge seeing if you are suitable and willing to deal with me. Deal with my random rambles and my soft kisses and my ugly laugh and my cute chubby tummy and my hot screams. Do not say you want me because I’m better than nothing. If anything, you need me more than I need you.
It hurts that I still don’t have that person who loves me and all of me. I don’t entirely mean romantically, I mean platonically as well. No one is willing to wake up at midnight to answer my silly questions because they know how much of a smile it puts on my face and warmth it spreads throughout my heart. No one is willing to ask why I always fall asleep in class but yet they always gawk and stare. No one is willing to be there for me when I cry and cry yet they always cock their heads and whisper to their friends asking them what’s wrong with me. No one is there when I need them most. No one is willing to put up with the true me. The me that’s too curious and always worries and cries like a baby and that rambles about stupid stuff like how long on average does it take sunflowers to grow. I always have to change myself somehow to fit into their mold but not my own. No one ever wonders about me or asks how I’m doing. No one questions why I get nervous sometimes in the middle of class or why I walk funny. They never ask why I always cry during the beginning of April. It’s like they all assume. They make up their own story that makes sense to them but god forbid they listened to the truth. People constantly assume they know your body and your soul and your desires but the second you tell them that they’re wrong, they get defensive as if they know better. People always try to convince me I’m something I’m not like that I’m not sick or I’m not sad or I’m not imperfect. But I am sick, and I am allowed to be sad, and I am most definitely imperfect. But they don’t take the time to realize all of that. They don’t bother getting to know me or making sure I’m okay. Making sure I eat enough or making sure that I am not feeling sick. Making sure that I feel validated and worthful and loved. I do that to everyone but not a single person does that to me. I hate it.
I think it’s so funny how society is quick to brand those problematic lily white women (Taylor swift, Lena Dunham, Amy schumer, Jennifer Lawrence, etc) as feminist examples, but Beyoncé who has been singing feminist songs since destiny child and has always stood up for women had to write Feminist in bold on a mainstream scene but still people questioned whether or not she was a feminist
I’m late but I’m watching don’t hurt yourself rn like wow now we know why Beyonce went out here & tapped one of the most iconic rock musicians to help her cuss her man out. I remember one of my relatives saying that Jack White was singing on Don’t Hurt Yourself like Bey was his sister and he was letting her trifling man know what it was.
I don’t even know how to feel about the whole thing b/c I’m not a proponent of a woman staying w/ a partner that cheats ever. I always figured that Solange was throwing hands b/c Jay cheated & I guess it should have been clear that he had to have been really grimey to her sister to elicit that kind of reaction.
I weirdly expected more from Jay Z even though I sort of always knew he didn’t deserve Beyonce b/c so many men are with women they don’t deserve and treat poorly.
I adored the push party photos and look forward to seeing the new babies pics. I’m not saying I want her home to be broken up but I would not have been mad if Beyonce had left him and went and found a fine young billionaire to have wild thoughts with in pools, okay?
The past 2 weeks have shown me that too many Black men think that making Black women suffer for their lackluster, thin love is a good thing. I think the albums the carters have made r really important & I think they open up vital convos about black love and romance they need to be had.
These albums push the importance of accountability, introspection, living an examined life. I’m hoping it will push Black men to think about how they harm Black women and black LGBT folk who are the only ppl who have their backs in this harsh, racist society. That it will push them to deal with their shit individually & collectively and stop projecting it onto us (i.e. Kodak Black who, as others have noted, hates himself & his Blackness). It’s hella distressing to realize that Black women will walk through fire to help Black men but that so many Black men like to insult and mock us for not meeting their colorist and racist beauty standards.
In an interview Molly Crabapple said smthing like men have gotten women to buy into this idea that our beauty is the most valuable thing about us and that the more beautiful we are, the better they’ll treat us. And we can see that this isn’t true, we can be the most beautiful woman in the world and they will still act a fool.
Jay had the girl everyone wanted and yet he was still running in these streets. Clearly he, and not his wife, was deficient. It shows me that a man’s character is important. If he has no character it doesn’t matter what a woman does he will still mistreat her.
Anyway 4:44 is good, I hope Yonce’s happy with her choice and as always I wonder what it looks like for Black women to have a love that edifies and liberates and that does not demand suffering to keep it.
If that’s not proof that awards ≠ success or impact I don’t know what else is.
These are the only black artists to ever win Album Of The Year Grammys:
Michael Jackson, Stevie Wonder, Ray Charles, Natalie Cole, Lionel Richie, Lauryn Hill, Outkast, H. Hancock, Whitney Houston & Quincy Jones. Now Adele and Taylor Swift have won album of the year twice and Beyonce has never won it.