Why Can’t I Like Beyonce’s “Formation”?

I wasn’t one of the billions of people watching Super Bowl 50 this past weekend. I wasn’t one of the crazy fans rooting on for <insert team name here> over <insert competing team name here>. I didn’t go out of my way to avoid it. It just doesn’t really interest me. And then, enter Beyonce.

I’m not a huge fan of her work. I like some of her songs. I got my fair share of kicks out of watching her do Single Ladies and then the throngs of imitators all doing their best to imitate the Queen Bee. I think she’s an impeccable performer who has a wide range of talents, from marketing to songwriting. The only caveat I would dare offer here is naming children, but it’s a free country and I respect her right to be out there and wild. I had the same reaction to Gwyneth Paltrow naming her child Apple.

But when it came to the song she chose to perform at half-time, I was the first to admit that I had never heard it before. Little did I know that was pretty much true for most of the world. She “dropped” it (argh, I hate music industry slang) about five minutes before performing it. That takes some balls.

Usually, the half time performance is reserved for groups or bands or personae that have made it. They’re big enough to appeal to a massive audience and bring along all the spectacle the Super Bowl and CBS (or NBC, I forget which is which these days) wants. Beyonce is definitely among the upper echelon of artists who have made it. But they’re typically asked to perform a few choice songs from their greatest hits. It’s du rigeur. Madonna accepted it. Janet Jackson fell in line. But Beyonce took a different path.

Her new song “Formation” is not what most would call family-friendly. I’m not here to debate the merits of the content of the song, insomuch as I am here to say I liked it. I thought it was a poignant reminder of how racism is still alive today and even though we seem to sweep it under the rug, no amount of denial is going to make it just disappear. It is the stain America must wear for many more generations to come — that’s just how despicable African-American history is in our nation. In short, the scars of slavery are not by any means gone nor does it seem like they will be in the immediate future.

I was impressed by all the bloggers who fled to their medium of choice (some of it literally Medium.com) to express how brave it was of her to do this song and how it really rallied people towards the cause. And I was down with that. And I (thought) I understood the message and wanted to cheer her on for it.

Except I was told I had to cheer from the sidelines.

From the sidelines? I would think that anyone trying to make a statement would gladly welcome people to its side. From the sidelines? You mean, I’m excluded from the masses of people who think that slavery was wrong and that racism is still alive. And why? Because I’m white.

I suppose I can understand how people might think that I was co-opting their message, but that wasn’t really the case. At least in my mind. It downright offended me that people out there could say that I was only able to celebrate pride from the margins because I was not one of them.

That’s just wrong. I would never undermine the plights or problems of another segment of population by saying I completely understand what they are going through — but I can at least make an effort. And while it might not be the most accurate portrayal or understanding, at least it is a step.

Instead of condemning me for my attempt at understanding, help me to understand. Here I am, open-minded and ready to learn, willing to better know, to more completely acknowledge the shortcomings of our society. But don’t point and laugh and mock.

What’s wrong with liking the song, and proclaiming understanding at least of why she wrote it?

I get it. I really do. As much as racism slices straight to the bone and cuts in ways nothing else can, every one I know knows what its like to be excluded, left out, and prejudged. Racism might be the realm of minorities, but everyone has experienced hatred.

Besides, if you check, I too have hot sauce in my swag bag.

Now can I be one of the cool kids?

Pretty please?