B E Y O N C E

I’m seeing Beyoncé live this week, and I’m really, really, really excited. I don’t care if she makes questionable styling choices, relates every single conversation topic back to ‘God’s plan’ like she’s reading from a script written by a mormon PR team, and sings ridiculously contradictory pseudo-feminist lyrics which may or may not have Simone De Beauvoir rolling in her grave (“Who run the world? Girls” vs. “I’d rather not live at all than live my life without you”). I love her anyway, along with most of the planet. I don’t even care if I’m subconsciously conforming to the worldwide hysteria just to feel part of something and fill a loveless void in my hardened soul. I LOVE HER AND I’M SEEING HER LIVE AND YOU’RE (probably) NOT SO I WIN.

I was initially a little dejected when I read that Queen Bey had joined Taylor Swift in the ranks of pop stars who reject the term ‘feminist’. I thought that the days in which feminists were considered hairy-legged, monobrowed, birkenstock-fetishizing man haters were long gone. That made me and my English student feminist credentials really mad. But then I realised that Beyonce isn’t an academic or a philosopher or a politician or any kind of lofty thinker. She’s a singer, and I love nothing more than shutting my bedroom door and dancing like a coked-up pond skater to her music. So, I decided to ignore the fact that her views on feminism will strongly influence millions of young children who don’t even know what academics, philosophers or politicians are, and decided to enjoy her for what she is. As with most problematic things in life, genocide and Miley Cyrus’ short hair aside, laughter is the best form of combat. And remember, God has a glorious and beautiful plan for you in the promised— Okay, no, I can’t even do that shit ironically.

Why don’t you just sit back and enjoy these prime Bey moments.

What’s better than Beyoncé? Multiple Beyoncés!

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