It is really easy to look at someone else and immediately label them something: by gender, by hair color, by race, or perhaps economic status. When it comes to feminism, it’s not always so easy to determine whether someone is or isn’t one. It may not even be beneficial to have such strict labels in our minds while thinking about it, seeing as there has hardly been any consensus on what classifies as feminist behavior or values. However, when it comes to analyzing a woman that it is a self-identified feminist, I think that it is crucial to first analyze my own.
My personal feminist journey began pretty early on in my life, and I am constantly reconfiguring my views on what it means to be a feminist. I grew up in southeastern Michigan in a city about 30 miles outside Detroit. My family is what would be considered a nuclear one, with both my parents and younger brother all living under one roof. My mom and dad both work full-time jobs, and my brother and I both grew up in very typical ways: schooling was necessary and a college education was expected of us. Certain values were instilled, like be a good person and lying is wrong, but there was no discussion about gender roles, patriarchal oppression, or what was expected of me as a young girl.
In fact, I think that my journey to and through feminism lies very heavily on the fact that my mom was the breadwinner in our house for a very long time, and when given the options to work from home or not work at all, she chose to still be the Vice President of her company and get a nanny for my brother and me. I often wonder if it ever ran through her mind that if she gave up her career she was giving into the idea that a woman should be home with her children. I think that she just loved what she did and knew that if she gave that up, then it would be detrimental to my brother and me, and to her own personal development. When I try to think back on conversations that my mom and I had about being a woman and what that meant for me as I grew up, all I can remember are the seemingly conventional talks about tampons, birth control, and that the basement door was never allowed to be closed when a boy was over at our house. My parents were the best example of what a functional, healthy, supportive, and loving relationship should look like, and I think that I always had that in mind when I was navigating the middle and high school dating scene – whatever that means. My mom and dad met at a bar where my dad was performing with his band, and she moved from California to Michigan only a few short months after that. She found a job at a real estate management firm and eventually worked her way up to becoming the Vice President. I knew from a very young age that it was possible to have a career, children, marriage, and your own life – I realize now that while my mom and I never spoke about her ability to be a powerful woman or what her thoughts on feminism were, she showed me how to empower myself, which I understand now to be the backbone of my own feminist values
When I was first introduced to the term “feminism,” I thought that you had to be anti-men and anti-family. The word felt very harsh to me for a very long time; even a few months ago I felt that I could not identify as a feminist because of my strong desire to have what my mom had – a career, and marriage and kids. I was utterly unwilling to identify as a feminist and was sure to point out that I wasn’t one whenever the topic was mentioned. I think that a lot of larger feminist projects are extreme in their values and the way that they represent themselves, which makes me, and a lot of other people, really turned off by the things that they are advocating for. In their defense, however, I do want to point out that in order to make great social or political change, it is necessary to have extremely passionate groups of people pushing for change, not someone like me who can’t seem to figure out what is best for me and my own feminism, let alone the entire female population. I can honestly say that my thoughts on feminism did not even begin to develop until sometime in my undergraduate education at Michigan. As I mentioned before, I grew up in a small, mostly conservative town, where I grew up wanting to be one of the country club women, who spent all day running errands and working out, that I saw every afternoon picking up their kids from school and heading straight to the pool. Obviously, this is probably a grossly overestimated generalization of the stay-at-home moms around my hometown, but I’m certainly not willing to deny that they do exist, nor am I willing to deny that I wanted to be one of them. It was never made clear to me before I began this journey and this project that perhaps my relationship with feminism began much earlier than I originally thought.
Like most life-altering things, the tip of the iceberg is the only visible part, but there are countless unconscious and unseen aspects that play into a much comprehensive and complex picture of something. One of these unrecognized aspects of my journey through feminism is my growth as a woman with the ability and desire to represent herself sexually. The way that I dress never really seemed a part of my feminism, but I have come to find now that it is impossible to separate the way a woman represents her sexuality from the way she identifies as a feminist. The two are so entangled in their implications that understanding one is necessary to understanding the other. So as I continue deciphering my own journey through feminism before we get to Beyoncé’s feminism, let’s take a look at how my developing sexual representation has played a large (however, seemingly subconscious) role in my personal feminist project:
I felt for a very long time that feminism called for a woman to be asexual, or not embracing what it means to be a woman. This was difficult for me to wrap my head around because of the pride that I had in all things female. From a young age I wanted to be Miss America, a Victoria’s Secret Model, an actress, and, of course, Beyoncé. I didn’t have the height, the talent, or the “look” to become any of these things, so I settled on being a baton twirler throughout elementary and high school. I didn’t recognize it back then, but now with a greater understanding of the world, and how people view sexuality and sexual representation, I understand why my mom was so nervous for me to compete in national baton competitions. Not only was it a subjective sport, decked out with sometimes nasty and brutal judges, but winning was reliant on skimpy, sparkly costumes, the best hair, the best makeup, and the most expensive-looking ball gowns. The willingness to spend money was crucial, but even more imperative was one’s willingness to show the least amount of skin in order to win. It was maybe through baton twirling that I learned to become comfortable with my body and the way I represent my sexuality. My mom wasn’t willing to spend a fortune on costumes that I was sure to grow out of in a year, so I had to rely on my talent in order to be a viable competitor.
Outside of the small world of baton, real life seems to be the same way: the way that a person dresses should be second to what talent, knowledge, passion, skill, or personality they have to offer. Of course, it’s important that we value a person because of their inner selves, but it’s also important that we acknowledge that how we dress or represent ourselves sexually is a decision that can be made only by us. For me, I do not dress the way that I do (especially if it is an outfit that might be considered sexy or, to some people, an objectifying outfit) for men or for the attention that it may bring me. I dress for myself and to feel sexy. I love the way that high heels, a little black dress, hair and makeup done make me feel. I also appreciate the comfort and ease of leggings and an old T-shirt. Having the choice and, more importantly, the right to wear certain outfits, to embrace my 22 year-old body that I KNOW will catch up to all of the McDonald’s and Chipotle I eat soon enough, and explore the strength that my body can bring to me is a large part of my initial hesitation to identify as a feminist. Through this journey, however, I have found that I feel empowered by the way that I dress, and it’s empowering for me to be able to choose how I, and only I, want to present myself to the world. It has nothing to do with wanting or deciding or playing into being an object of male desire – it is about having same amount of sexual liberation and representation that men have been able to experience, and the choice and the right to empower myself in any way that I see fit, because after all, it’s my body, my decision, and my journey. It is my personal feminist project.
The inspiration for this project began not only with my own journey to and through feminism, but with Beyoncé’s, as well. Like me, Beyoncé has had a complex relationship with feminism, and has caused a lot of older feminists to question what the feminist project is, or should be, and if Beyoncé fits into that mold. Her self-identified feminist journey began, at least outwardly, later in her life than mine. Perhaps her hesitation to call herself a feminist was for similar reasons to my own hesitation. As mentioned in the opening video, Beyoncé’s success seems to offer many reasons for feminists to cheer. She is undoubtedly one of the most iconic and influential global heroes of today, and has enjoyed incredible success in a mostly male-run industry. Titans such as Oprah Winfrey, Barack and Michelle Obama, and Nelson Mandela have hailed and expressed awe at her extraordinary talent and her advocating for women’s and African Americans’ rights. She has a net worth estimated at just under $400 million, 17 Grammy Awards, is on the top of countless “power” lists among other notable achievements, all while staying very honest about her self-proclaimed identity as a modern-day feminist. In 2010, she told U.K.s Daily Mail: “I think I am feminist in a way. It’s not something I consciously decided I was going to be; perhaps it’s because I grew up singing with other women, and that was so helpful to me. It kept me out of so much trouble and out of bad relationships. My friendships with my girls are just so much a part of me that there are things I am never going to do that would upset that bond. I never want to betray that friendship because I love being a woman and I love being a friend to other women.”
Beyoncé tours with an all-female band, the Sugar Mamas, which she formed to give girls more musical role models – something she’s done for years. If you watch a Beyoncé concert, or one of her lives shows, you will notice that she has no men on stage with her, which is something that is so very rarely done. She also speaks passionately about the power of female relationships, and is one of the only influential female celebrities to actually call herself a feminist. Miuccia Prada, one of the most influential designers of women’s clothing all over the world, expressed her uncertainty with the idea that fashion and feminism cannot mix. And in 2010, around the same time that Beyoncé declared herself a feminist, Prada told reporters that “there is no such thing as feminism.” Gwenyth Paltrow, Lady Gaga, Katy Perry, Marissa Mayer, and Taylor Swift have all told the press they’re not feminists. A popular star willing to talk about gender inequity, as Beyoncé has, is depressingly and surprisingly rare.
Another thing about Beyoncé’s feminism is her commentary on her relationship with husband Shawn Knowles-Carter, a.k.a. music mogul, Jay-Z. She met her future husband when she was only 18-years-old, and her relationship with him has been a defining factor in her development as a woman and as a feminist. Beyoncé speaks passionately about her partner of more than a decade, saying, “I would not be the woman I am today if I did not go home to that man.” She has found a way to display herself and be an amazing and powerful woman, and an even better one because of the support of her husband. Beyoncé can be powerful and simultaneously admit that her marriage is profound and life altering. She does not pronounce herself useless without marriage. She has said she was in no rush to marry the man she met at 18. “I feel like you have to get to know yourself, know what you want, spend some time by yourself, and be proud of who you are before you can share that with someone else.”
After nearly 10 years of marriage, and two miscarriages, Beyoncé and Jay-Z welcomed their daughter, Blue Ivy Carter. It was after the birth of her child that Beyoncé’s sexual representation began to take on a new forceful image. She began her controversially titled Mrs. Carter World Tour, and surprise released her record-breaking visual album without any prior promotion leading up to the release. At the beginning of her tour, Beyoncé told British Vogue: “I guess I am a modern-day feminist. I do believe in equality. Why do you have to choose what type of woman you are? Why do you have to label yourself anything? I’m just a woman, and I love being a woman.” Beyoncé has managed to become the biggest female pop star in the world, while cultivating her marriage, her role as a mother, and her sexuality.
As you saw in the opening video, Beyoncé’s sexuality, and the way in which she represents it, is not hidden. She is at the center of her own media empire and is awarded the decision-making power when it comes to how she wants portray herself to the world. This has been no small feat for a woman of color, and her sexual representation has served as a tool of empowerment. When Beyoncé is on stage, or dancing in her videos, or singing sexual lyrics, she exudes passion and commitment. She displays her body as her own, and when she wears an overly sexual or “skimpy” outfit, she is showing off her impeccable body (after baby), and is embracing this source of strength. In her album, Beyoncé, she sings about men and love, but also speaks about empowerment and being more than someone’s wife, while also singing about sex, independence, and motherhood more boldly than ever. In her song, “Pretty Hurts,” Beyoncé sings about how obsessing over your physical appearance is destructive, and that when we focus on perfection, it is “the soul that needs surgery.” While Beyoncé hardly has to worry about a flawed appearance, even she has openly spoken about struggling with body issues, feels the pressure of unfair expectations, and takes comfort knowing that the problem is with society. In addition to “Pretty Hurts,” Beyoncé also discusses sexual pleasure in several songs, namely “Blow,” “Partition,” and “Rocket.” The lyrics discuss the desire to have the attention of a man (in this case, her husband), the idea that sexual pleasure needs to be a two-way street, and the common misconception that feminists are uninterested in sexual activity.
Even though Beyoncé’s most recent album has been the most explicit with her sexual representation, this has certainly not been the first time we see her embracing her sexuality and her womanhood. For example, Beyoncé’s performance at the Super Bowl in 2013 paid tribute to the journey that she has taken in her personal life and career. She made several deliberate choices to demonstrate the power and intelligence of women, such as “Independent Women,” which honors financially independent women. Beyoncé also “aimed to celebrate and empower women with her performance.” Anthems like “Survivor,” “Run the World (Girls),” and “If I Were a Boy,” were sung, and she praised women for both raising children and holding careers, dealing with the double standards women face compared to men, and focusing on women recovering and becoming stronger after being treated badly by men (The Blue Banner). The aesthetics of her many visual performances focus on honoring powerful women, and the lyrics of her songs often accompany this flawlessly. She uses her pop star fame to not only employ women of color in unique careers, but Beyoncé is also a smart, autonomous woman who uses her platform as an icon to empower other women by being confident in her own sexuality and body.
While Beyoncé represents herself in a way that gives us several reasons to celebrate the accomplishments of women – especially women of color – her lyrics, albums, videos, sexuality, race, and wealth do not come without criticism. It would be nearly impossible to encompass all of the critiques that Beyoncé receives in regard to the way she represents herself and what that means for her feminism, but it is useful to map the progression of some of the criticisms that have surfaced over the course of her career.
Despite counting two of the most influential women in the world, Michelle Obama and Oprah, as fans, Beyoncé still has several detractors – particularly in the feminist community. Most of the conflict stems from her seemingly contradicting feminist message. In Janell Hobson’s essay, “Beyoncé: Girls Run the World (Cue the Apocalypse),” she explains how she has been a constant admirer of Beyoncé’s “girl power” anthems and empowering messages, but has also been highly critical of some of her decisions, like “promoting a decidedly feminist message, while also participating in racialized and sexualized self-fetishizing styles, lyrics, videos and choreography.” When Beyoncé was featured on the cover of Ms. Magazine with the label “Beyoncé’s Fierce Feminism,” a heated debate ensued about her particular brand of feminism. While other objectors on the website, Jezebel, summed up the charge: “That’s pretty much the Beyoncé contradiction right there. Lip service for female fans, fan service for the guys” (Bitch Magazine).
Another commenter takes issue with the title of Beyoncé’s current Mrs. Carter World Tour, saying “I’m only pointing out that there is a degree of cognitive dissonance between the idea that girls should not make marriage their goal in life, and then going on a year long tour that identifies you solely in relation to your husband” (The Gloss). In response to Beyoncé and Jay-Z’s performance during the Grammy’s, many critics took another look at their hit, “Drunk in Love,” and another firestorm over lyrics about domestic violence broke out against the duo, and Beyoncé’s claim to feminism. One particular lyric never sat right with audiences – even the audiences that celebrate Beyoncé as an incredible and empowering feminist. The verse references a scene from the Tina Turner biopic, in which a verbal argument between Turner and her abusive husband, Ike, turns physical. “I’m like Ike, Turner, turn up / Baby no I don’t play / Now eat the cake, Anna Mae/ I said eat the cake, Anna Mae.” Some people, and probably rightfully so, have taken issue with seeing two major stars “shoehorn” a domestic violence reference into a Billboard topping track that otherwise celebrates love and marital sexual relations. While Beyoncé sang along to the lyrics during their Grammy performance, and the verse is certainly complicating to her overall feminist message, it should not discount her as a member of the sisterhood of feminism – it should only make us further analyze the complexities of her feminism and the feminist project at large.
At the root of the debate over whether Beyoncé is a feminist, or what kind of feminist she is, is a much deeper question of how to define feminism. The word itself can be so threatening that a lot of women are scared to title themselves as one, including myself at one point, as I explained above. “What does it mean to be a feminist? Who gets to be one? What does it take to be one? And who gets to decide who is feminist and who isn’t?” asked writer Lauren Rankin in response to the Beyoncé backlash. It’s important to first recognize that there are different ways to classify someone as feminist. They are either feminist; anti-feminist, meaning they are acting or behaving in a way that is purposefully and deliberately halting the empowerment and equality of women; and there is also non-feminist, meaning that a person does not identify one way or another, or behave in a way that is counter or productive to equality and power for women. Whether people find themselves as Queen Bey fans, or not, her new album, her sexual representation, and her personal decisions all set off an important conversation about intersectionality and race. The judgment of how Beyoncé expresses her womanhood is emblematic of the way women in the public eye are routinely picked apart – in particular, it demonstrates the conflicting pressures on black women and the complicated way our bodies and relationships are policed. Where a lot of the backlash stems from is the inability for white and black feminists to come to any kind of agreement on what it means, exactly, to be a feminist. Race, among other things like sexual representation, is not something that can be ignored. If we do ignore the point where race and feminism meets, then we are assuming that all “female-identified people come at life from an even playing field with the same experiences and cultural mores, which we should know by now isn’t accurate” (The Gloss). Our viewpoints as people and as women are vastly different. It would be counterproductive to try to determine if Beyoncé holds up to mainstream white feminist ideals, as it would also be counterproductive to see if Gloria Steinem was integral to a black feminist project.
Before we go more into how Beyoncé is viewed by, or complicating, the black and white feminists, let’s first briefly go over the driving points behind these two feminisms, and what that means for a general, or universal idea of feminism. Because of the historic role of slavery and racial segregation in the United States, the development of a unified feminist project requires the recognition of the continuing racial divide. Even though all women are oppressed because they are women, it is crucial that feminist projects speak for women who also face the consequences of racism – a topic that white feminists tend to ignore. For example, in Betty Friedan’s “The Feminine Mystique,” she, a white feminist, gives voice to “the anguish of white middle-class homemakers who were trapped in their suburban homes, doomed to lives revolving around fulfilling their families’ every need” (Smith). Friedan’s book, however, ignored the importance of racial and class differences that existed, and continue to exist, between women. Few black women or working-class women of any race would have been able to afford Friedan’s proposal that women “hire domestic workers to perform their daily household chores while they were at work” (Smith). Friedan’s book, while seemingly feminist, does a poor job of including or even recognizing the racial divide that makes differing goals for proponents of black and white feminisms. Black feminist, Patricia Hill Collins, expands in an article on the intersectionality of black women and feminism and analyzes how oppressions such as race and gender or sexuality work together to produce injustice for black feminist women, and the way that they are viewed – especially in media:
Women of color have felt continually sidelined and alienated by women’s liberation and antiracist movements. Black feminists, such as Angela Davis, call attention to white feminists to show them how they are failing to recognize a central part of feminism – racism. It must be acknowledged that many black women who identify as feminists are strongly critical, and often at odds with, white feminist projects, and attempt to challenge white, middle-class, heterosexual feminists to stand up for the rights of all forms of oppression: “The reason racism is a feminist issue is easily explained by the inherent definition of feminism. Feminism is the political theory and practice to free all women: women of color, working-class women, poor women, physically challenged women, lesbians, old women, as well as white economically privileged heterosexual women. Anything less than this is not feminism, but merely female self-aggrandizement” (Smith). Barbara Smith continues to explain in her article how the aim of intersectionality within the black feminist tradition has been toward building a stronger movement for women’s liberation that represents and protects the interests of all women.
This injustice is made evident in an article done by Bitch Magazine, where Tamara Winfrey Harris points out that black women and girls have historically battled the stereotype of innate and uncontrolled lasciviousness, which may explain why Beyoncé’s sexuality is viewed differently from that of white artists like Madonna, who is lauded for performing in very similar ways.
“Through a career that has included crotch-grabbing, nudity, BDSM, Marilyn Monroe fetishizing, and a 1992 book devoted to sex, Madonna has been viewed as a feminist provocateur, pushing the boundaries of acceptable femininity. But Beyoncé’s use of her body is criticized as thoughtless and without value beyond male titillation, providing a modern example of the age-old racist juxtaposition of animalistic black sexuality vs. controlled, intentional, and civilized white sexuality” (Bitch Magazine).
Also made clear by Julia Sonenshein in her piece titled “Why White Feminists are Mad at Beyoncé,” she shared another reason why white women have difficulty understanding and accepting Beyoncé’s version of empowerment: “White feminists tend to critique Beyoncé first and foremost for the way she uses her sexuality as a tool. White feminists also tend to criticize her attitude towards wealth and materialism, along with her bravado and confidence. While there is certainly room for criticism, and major figures like Beyoncé should be criticized, these particular conversations tend to approach any analysis from a very white point of view, and don’t consider how the themes of sexuality, wealth, and confidence differ across communities” (The Grio and The Gloss).
The differences across communities also come into play in regard to Beyoncé’s marriage to Jay-Z, and her public commentary on the life-changing relationship. Some mainstream white feminists, as mentioned several times before, take issue with the title of her current Mrs. Carter Tour. Black feminists were quick to respond by saying that marriage has different meanings in relation to black feminism, and criticizing her choice to identify as ‘married’ goes against the basic tenant of feminism and equal choice for all. One commenter wrote:
“You do not seem to be taking in account how different marriage is in the black community… Since you seem to be confused, black women marry at a much lower rate than white women, yet men maintain relationships with these women over years and years. So essentially a black woman saying ‘if you liked it then you should’ve put a ring on it’ is essentially ‘I’m great enough for you to decide to marry me, do it.’ The goal is not to get married, the song is about men staying in relationships with women for a long time and letting the relationship end because they don’t want to commit. Commitment, in this song, is represented by a wedding ring. You [white feminists] really do seem to forget that for a lot of black women, marriage really is a source of power. It is not the only source of power, it is not the end all be all, but it can be empowering. It breaks the ever-present stereotype of black women as baby-mamas or mammies raising someone’s kids” (The Gloss).
Black feminists push back against the criticism and questioning of Beyoncé’s feminist credentials, and rightfully so. Black and white feminist goals are different, and sometimes conflicting, but it is decidedly racist the way white mainstream feminist organizations police women of color’s feminist credentials, yet don’t question the way Madonna, Lena Dunham, Lady Gaga or any other powerful white woman represents herself or identifies as feminist. Feminism should be inclusive and working to end all oppressive power systems, including (especially) racism.
Beyoncé speaks to this issue of intersectionality and the fact that if feminists truly want to widen what it means to be a feminist, and to include every oppressed group – such as women of color – then they need to learn about the entire ‘sisterhood’ that they claim to represent. She explicitly confronts this topic with her song, “***Flawless,” perhaps one of the most feminist outpourings in her entire career. The song features Nigerian novelist and feminist, Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie, and her Tedx Talk on “We Should All Be Feminists.” The entire speech can be seen in the video, and I have also included the transcript of the segment that Beyoncé uses in her song:
“We teach girls to shrink themselves, to make themselves smaller. We say to girls- you can have ambition, but not too much. You should aim to be successful, but not too successful, otherwise you will threaten the man. Because I am female I’m expected to aspire to marriage. I am expected to make my life choices always keeping in mind that marriage is the most important. Now marriage can be a source of joy and love and mutual support, but why do we teach girls to aspire to marriage, but we don’t teach boys the same? We raise girls to see each other as competitors, not for jobs or for accomplishments, which I think can be a good thing, but for their attention of men. We teach girls that they cannot be sexual beings in the way that boys are. Feminist: the person who believes in the social, political, and economic equality of the sexes.”
Melissa Harris-Perry, along with several other feminists, commended Beyoncé on her “feminist manifesto,” in “***Flawless,” by saying that “Beyoncé has been making feminist moves without having to call herself a feminist. I think black women in particular have always recognized that.”
If women are allegedly passive and fragile, then why are Black women treated as “mules” and assigned heavy cleaning chores? If good mothers are supposed to stay at home with their children, then why are US Black women on public assistance forced to find jobs and leave their children in day care? If women’s highest calling is to become mothers, then why are Black teen mothers pressured to use Norplant and Depo Provera? In the absence of a viable Black feminism that investigates how intersecting oppressions of race, gender, and class foster these contradictions, the angle of vision created by being deemed devalued workers and failed mothers could easily be turned inward, leading to internalized oppression. But the legacy of struggle among US Black women suggests that a collectively shared Black women’s oppositional knowledge has long existed. This collective wisdom in turn has spurred US Black women to generate a more specialized knowledge, namely, Black feminist thought as critical social theory (Collins).
When we begin to decide who is feminist enough, or what actions are allowed to be considered feminist, especially in regard to a woman of color, we are perpetuating racism. When we police someone's decisions on what they say, what they choose to wear, who they marry, and how they live their life, then we are forming boundaries around who is acceptable and who is not. If white feminists continue to police, question, and criticize a black woman's personal feminism, then they are continuing to play into a racist patriarchy that they claim to be combating. As Melissa Harris-Perry and Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie celebrate the broader and more functional definitions of feminism, Beyonce also embraces the complexities of her personal definition of feminism, and the larger feminist project as a whole. Beyonce launches a challenge for us. Her album, her sexual representation, her lyrics, and her personal decisions beg for us to re-analyze what it means to be a feminist. Not only is she asking women, but she's asking men to examine our gender biases and the way we "slut-shame" a woman's sexuality, and criticize the way she uses money, power, and bodies. Beyonce honors the multifaceted ways that women represent themselves. She embraces the intersectionality of race in feminist projects, and is redefining her own definition of feminism and does it unapologetically. In doing so, she is ushering in a new wave of feminism, and forcing us to analyze the pitfalls of the current feminist project, while also calling attention to the importance of acknowledging the intersection of race, wealth, sexuality, within feminism.