Beyoncé challenged herself to create, in one song, an anthem in recognition of Juneteenth, a celebration of black-owned businesses, and a public appeal to continue Black Lives Matter activism. Unsurprisingly, she knocked it out of the park.
There are many layers to “Black Parade” and so much to praise, but I’d like to focus on one clever thing she does in the lyrics of this important piece. While adding to a rich and historied canon of art and literature that exults black American culture by reconnecting it to its royal African roots, Beyoncé performs two roles in this song, in conversation with one another (which in itself is a trope of traditional storytelling around the world). She embodies both the newcomer to African culture who is learning and growing, and the fully-arrived Motherland, anthropomorphized as an African queen and mirroring Beyoncé’s own matriarchal public image.
Especially in the beginning of the song, several lines suggest someone who is newly arrived to the black empowerment movement and is looking at it through fresh eyes, or at least returning to it after a long absence: she is “going back to the South/Where my roots ain't watered down.” The chorus repeats that she needs to let the “motherland, motherland drip on me.” Initially there is the brief line “my drip is skin deep,” which can have a dual meaning—it is skin color that is her initial link to the motherland, but if it is only “skin deep,” the implication is that she must search for a connection that goes deeper than that. This is supported by the next line, “I can't forget my history is her-story”—we are witnessing someone who is discovering or rediscovering, and must remind herself, of the feminine and the Afrocentric.
Perhaps most surprisingly, this speaker goes on to quote words that at first seem completely opposed to the message of the song: “Being black, maybe that's the reason why they always mad...Been past 'em, I know that's the reason why they all big mad.” (Even these apparently contemptuous lines, however, have some ambiguity, hinting that perhaps there is good reason for black people to be “mad” throughout history.) We are being made aware of outside perspectives on black activism, presumably from people who do not understand systematic oppression or the Black Lives Matter movement. Our initial speaker, then, is not immune to dissenting voices, but is invoking African items, cultural practices and deities to attempt to affirm her black personhood.
We encounter a different identity in the chorus, who signs:
Honey, come around my way, around my hive
Whenever momma says so, momma say
Here I come on my throne, sittin' high
Follow my parade oh, my parade
This voice introduces itself in three short lines as maternal, authoritative, and regal. We can presume that this is the Motherland herself, speaking back to the seeker and inviting her to follow the “parade”—a metaphor for protest marches and, more generally, black solidarity. She again references African and African American history, this time not defensively, but to illustrate connectedness throughout time. Through allusions to bees and hives, Beyoncé connects this commanding voice to her own persona, making her audience the “Beyhive” and by inference, inviting them in the same way. It is a masterful call to action: the song at once empathizes with people who are new to the movement, but also displays the power and inclusion that will come once they join the parade.
Beyoncé challenged herself to create, in one song, an anthem in recognition of Juneteenth, a celebration of black-owned businesses, and a public appeal to continue Black Lives Matter activism. Unsurprisingly, she knocked it out of the park.
There are many layers to “Black Parade” and so much to praise, but I’d like to focus on one clever thing she does in the lyrics of this important piece. While adding to a rich and historied canon of art and literature that exults black American culture by reconnecting it to its royal African roots, Beyoncé performs two roles in this song, in conversation with one another (which in itself is a trope of traditional storytelling around the world). She embodies both the newcomer to African culture who is learning and growing, and the fully-arrived Motherland, anthropomorphized as an African queen and mirroring Beyoncé’s own matriarchal public image.
Especially in the beginning of the song, several lines suggest someone who is newly arrived to the black empowerment movement and is looking at it through fresh eyes, or at least returning to it after a long absence: she is “going back to the South/Where my roots ain't watered down.” The chorus repeats that she needs to let the “motherland, motherland drip on me.” Initially there is the brief line “my drip is skin deep,” which can have a dual meaning—it is skin color that is her initial link to the motherland, but if it is only “skin deep,” the implication is that she must search for a connection that goes deeper than that. This is supported by the next line, “I can't forget my history is her-story”—we are witnessing someone who is discovering or rediscovering, and must remind herself, of the feminine and the Afrocentric.
Perhaps most surprisingly, this speaker goes on to quote words that at first seem completely opposed to the message of the song: “Being black, maybe that's the reason why they always mad...Been past 'em, I know that's the reason why they all big mad.” (Even these apparently contemptuous lines, however, have some ambiguity, hinting that perhaps there is good reason for black people to be “mad” throughout history.) We are being made aware of outside perspectives on black activism, presumably from people who do not understand systematic oppression or the Black Lives Matter movement. Our initial speaker, then, is not immune to dissenting voices, but is invoking African items, cultural practices and deities to attempt to affirm her black personhood.
We encounter a different identity in the chorus, who signs: Honey, come around my way, around my hive Whenever momma says so, momma say Here I come on my throne, sittin' high Follow my parade oh, my parade
This voice introduces itself in three short lines as maternal, authoritative, and regal. We can presume that this is the Motherland herself, speaking back to the seeker and inviting her to follow the “parade”—a metaphor for protest marches and, more generally, black solidarity. She again references African and African American history, this time not defensively, but to illustrate connectedness throughout time. Through allusions to bees and hives, Beyoncé connects this commanding voice to her own persona, making her audience the “Beyhive” and by inference, inviting them in the same way. It is a masterful call to action: the song at once empathizes with people who are new to the movement, but also displays the power and inclusion that will come once they join the parade.