Our Difficult Divide: Fans React to Beyonce’s Black Is King and its Portrayal of Africa
Beyonce dropped her visual album “Black Is King,” on Friday on Disney +, and her devout fan base, known as “The Beyhive,” are delirious with delight. Said by the singer herself to be “a labour of love” and a passion project, the work, inspired by the Lion King and taking a year to complete, has been described as a visual feast, a glorious spectacle of colour and a dazzling reminder of the majesty of Black people, particularly during these difficult times.
Fellow artists, critics and the general public have buzzed frenziedly since then, analysing every aspect of the hour-long visual album, and many have been rightly in awe of the work that went in, the attention to detail we have come to know and adore from this consummate professional, and the importance of this message at this time.
The offering features not just her husband, Jay-Z and daughter Blue ivy, but also appearances by Kelly Rowland, Lupita N’yongo, Pharrell Williams, Naomi Campbell and more.
It also features African artists, the most visible being Ghanaian giant Shatta Wale and Nigerian siren Yemi Alade who have both posted their thanks and excitement respectively.
‘Black is King’ is an undeniably spectacular work of art.
It is, however, raising a different kind of buzz from some Africans, and it’s not necessarily the good kind. Many say that Africans are tired of binary representation. It seems we are always a product of the imagination of non-Africans. We are either a dying, fly-infested dystopia that needs charity songs or a Wakandian utopia where we all wake up to the Lion King’s rousing call of The Circle of Life’s “Naaaaaaaaaaaaaaants ingonyama bagithi baba” every morning.
This is Africa. We are everything: old, new, traditional, modern, sparkling and grimy – all at once. There is no Wakanda and animal loincloths are now saved for the most traditional of dances in select cultures. Our dawns and sunsets remain glorious, but the skylines are often interrupted these days by skyscrapers and tall monuments. We revel in durbars and traditional ceremonies but hold weddings with the kind of opulence that would make your eyes water. Tuk tuks spew their smoke beside sleek Lamborghinis and we all – prince and pauper – have a place underneath the African sky. There are intense poverty and patriarchy, yes. But there is also sweeping wealth and joy.
In almost every instance, we are unified by our consistently horrific leaders. Still, we rise.
And as for Queens, we have no shortage. Our music industry drips with royalty. From the late, great Miriam Makeba to Angélique Kidjo, Nhlanhla Nciza of Mafikizolo, Yemi Alade and Tiwa Savage. We have bred songstresses on whose heads crowns rest easy.
This work is an important, essential narrative at this time for an America where crowns are knocked off the heads of Black people daily, and their breaths are cut short by the knee of the Oppressor. It might even serve as a necessary anchor for the many African-Americans who have never felt at home in the United States and have no place to call home in Africa.
It is crucial that Beyonce and artists like her continue to push this narrative, just as it was crucial that Colin Kaepernick “take the knee” to protest racial injustice in the US. Until the lion learns how to write, every story will glorify the hunter, so I am proud that this lion picked her pen and wrote an edifying story about Africa and Blackness.
Should we, as Africans, be grateful for this light shone on our beloved land? I believe gratitude is a strong word that only a Beyhive member would use, but we certainly appreciate it for what it is. Africa has always been here, and Queen Bey ain’t no Columbus. Must it, should it mean more to Africans? Time will tell.
For now, it is enough to say that Beyonce called her album ‘Black Is King’ and never assumed or presumed any ownership to any crown in Africa. These are the actions of her overreaching fans. She paid tribute to the Motherland as the Source, and she was right to do so – imagine if she’d sung an entire album about Blackness and restricted her frame of reference to Black America, making no reference whatsoever to Africa? We’d have been apoplectic. She made an album, she paid homage. It’s a wonderful thing to see. She’s not Mama Africa, and, more importantly, she never said that she was.
All is well and she is right: Black Is King.
Lastly, stay up to date with all you need to know about African music at SOA, right here.
