Lemonade is an animated tableau of vulnerability depicted through a full spectrum of raw, visceral, primal, and picturesque thought emoted on film. I swear Beyoncé read Toni Morrison's "Beloved", Ntozake Shange's "For Colored Girls Who Have Considered Suicide/When the Rainbow is Enuf", Terri McMillan's "Waiting To Exhale", and Alice Walker's "The Color Purple" before she decided to concoct such an eclectic libation.
I appreciate Beyoncé’s willingness to surrender to her humanity. To unearth her pain, her rage, and her disgust in order to heal and love. To admit that she’s just like the rest of us no matter her fortune and fame. To pay homage to the stalwarts of womanhood who came before her. To openly dwell unabashed in her own skin and to empower other women, young and old, to do the same. To refuse to succumb to a patriarchal society. To speak to misogyny and undress it for what it is truly is. To stare down white supremacy unflinchingly in formation against a bigoted society.
As a man, I celebrate women. I wouldn’t be here if not for the women (yes, I mean women in the plural sense) who birthed me not just in the physical sense, but in the emotional, and spiritual sense as well. I appreciate the good and the bad of all of my relationships with women for they planted seeds, nurtured me, and helped to blossom me into the flower of a man that I am today.
I have to be honest, though, and admit that after watching the first twenty minutes of the visual album, I grew angry. Why? I was watching the film through the prism of mansplaining. However, after putting aside my selfishness and my subliminal gender bias and listening before reacting, my thoughts and my emotions changed. I challenge everyone, women men alike to do the same. Drink up!