An Analysis of Beyonce's "Formation"

An Analysis of Beyonce’s “Formation”

“Okay, ladies, now let’s get in formation,” Beyonce Knowles sings on the hook of her newest song. In the accompanying video, an all African-American squad of dancers dressed in Black Panther attire follows Queen Bey’s command and rallies around her, staring into the camera with thinly veiled feminist aggression. With this context, one can see why the song has stirred so much controversy—both good and bad. People have touted the song as extremely anti-white, which seems nearly humorous considering the singer’s past history of embracing her black roots. I suppose without proper context, it could come across that way. Perhaps for the uninitiated, a better understanding of the meaning behind the singer’s words could help justify her point in releasing the song—and what it means in a larger, white-dominant world.

            Beyonce starts the song off with acknowledging a rumor that’s grown more and more steam as she’s seen more and more success: “Y’all haters corny with that Illuminati mess, paparazzi catch my fly, and my cocky fresh”. Something that always bothered me about the Illuminati criticism is that nobody ever stops to ask if Taylor Swift or Adele have joined the illustrious group’s ranks, or if their success is attributed to anything other than their talent. Is it simply because Beyonce is black? Can a black woman not be successful without an outside force rushing to her aid and making it easy for her?

            There are several lyrics, and moments in the video, which showcase the love of blackness. Though I agree that Beyonce’s particular brand of blackness may not be the same as one of the families affected by the New Orleans tragedy of Hurricane Katrina—which she astutely references by opening the song with the words of popular N.O. artist, Messy Mya, who didn’t conform to gender stereotypes and was shot down in 2012—she is black, and so am I. Her words ring true here, not just to the black community but to the witnesses of the way the world has treated it and its accomplishments. And not only that, her decision to open the song with a young black artist who was killed mirrors the power of not only the rest of the song, but of her argument here.

Much of this song is about self-love, and more specifically, black love—the more heavy themes don’t come until later. But the loving themes are there in spades. The first example of which is her line: “My daddy Alabama, mama Louisiana, you mix that Negro with that Creole, make a Texas bamma”. Take her usage of the word ‘Negro’ however you wish—some people have found it offensive, but it’s the same word Martin Luther King Jr. and Malcolm X used when they fought a similar adversity—but it’s undeniable that Bey is acknowledging her African-American roots, and taking pride in them.

            The black love continues when she goes on to say, “I like my baby’s hair with baby hair and afros, I like my Negro nose with Jackson Five nostrils.” Now, let’s talk about that first line for a moment. Blue Ivy Carter—a child—has received constant criticism for the way she looks, people saying her nose is too big and that she has “Negro lips” like Jay-Z’s. On the other hand, North West, Kim Kardashian’s daughter who is nearly white passing and wears her hair in a pretty little bun, has been tremendously praised. Both are children, so to pass judgment on their looks is ridiculous. But the criticism and borderline racism towards Blue Ivy has clearly bothered her mother. Why shouldn’t a little girl be able to wear her hair the way her hair naturally is? I like your baby’s hair with baby hair and afros, too, Beyonce. And want to know what I love even more? That you refuse to style it.

            “Earned all this money, but they’ll never take the country out me.” This is evidenced clearly by this video. All through out, not one white person is pictured—except one powerful shot of a squadron of police, which we’ll get to momentarily. All Bey’s dancers, her extras, and even principal video cast members are black. A family is shown dancing at a sermon in church, a testament to the heavy correlation between black families and religion. Several different types of black women are shown, with several different hairstyles, all which fit perfectly into black culture. Even Beyonce herself rocks dreads, an afro, and more. This line is particularly powerful, because Bey is raising the middle finger to the industry’s typical white culture conformity and embracing her own culture. Especially when it’s followed up so quickly by the instant hashtag, T-shirt worthy line “I got hot sauce in my bag, swag.”

            “I see it, I want it. I dream it, I work hard, I grind ‘till I own it.” Well, in a few catchy sentences, Bey just described the ideal American dream. Don’t we all want to make a career or have a life based around whatever our passion is? Isn’t that why the first settlers came to America—to find a better life and flee religious persecution? Well, that isn’t exactly the reality anymore, at least if you’re not straight, white, and male. Societal barriers and color divisions have placed black America on a much lower peg than we should be. The song, and Bey’s flawless dance moves while singing these lyrics in the video, seems so hopeful—so certain that if we want it, we can own it. While that might not be realistic, it’s fun to see the singer try.

            Then she continues on to say, “I twirl on them haters, albino alligators.” This is when a lot of the political allegory comes in—if you’re not familiar with the film Albino Alligators, it referenced that alligators sometimes use an albino to distract their prey. Those albinos usually get eaten—attacked and killed. If Bey is the albino alligator in this equation, it makes so much sense that she would sacrifice herself, and her reputation, so that her black counterparts can succeed in their attempt to be represented. She’s even pictured in the video twirling, with a white dress on, and then shown sinking into the water on top of a New Orleans police car.

            “Sometimes I go off, I go hard, take what’s mine, I’m a star, ‘cause I slay.” There’s not that much relevance here—it’s catchy, sure, but the last line is what really holds all the significance. “Yasssss, queen! Slay!” If you’ve existed on the Internet at all in the last few years, you’ve heard that language and slang used to describe female artists, particularly Beyonce. Who conceived it? Black people, specifically black women, queer men, and transgender and non-conforming individuals. In fact, Big Freeida, one of New Orleans’ most popular stars, says the phrase all the time, even saying “I came to slay” later on in the song. It has a lot of meaning. Slaying your haters, slaying your competition, slaying the charts. It’s particularly wonderful for Beyonce not only to acknowledge the significance of that word to black culture, but to throw in a sweetener by tipping her tiara to the legion of her fans who ally with the LGBT+ community.

            Now, the heavier themes begin to come in—and they’re reflected in the video. “Prove to me you got some coordination,” Bey sings, as images of her dancers in perfect sync are fused with quick cuts to shots of men—dressed all in black—marching in protest through what looks like New Orleans streets. It seems she’s asking the black community to prove that they can do this—that they have what it takes to truly unify and stand against the arm of white supremacy. It’s heavy stuff, and she doesn’t go too deep into black-on-black violence and crime—that may have been too politically charged to do on a record like “Formation”.

            “Slay, trick, or you’ll get eliminated.” It’s do or die in this world—particularly for black folks. Bey is referencing here that you have to work your hardest, try your darndest, or maybe the things that you love the most and want the most will be snatched from right up under you. It calls to mind a line from the hit TV series Scandal, where Kerry Washington’s Olivia Pope had a goose bump-inducing conversation with her father about how society views her. “You have to be twice as good,” her father said, looking at her with shame. So, it seems, does Beyonce.

            Bey continues to sing some quasi-feminist lines about Red Lobster and her relationship with her man, Jay-Z (it would be so interesting to see the dynamic between these two, since I doubt Bey is submissive and docile in any way) and how they have fun as she stands in front of a plantation and holds two middle fingers up defiantly to the camera, dressed all in black as though she’s mourning. The power of Beyonce, and of what she can do, is so evident in this verse of the song that I feel we should take a moment to understand that the weekend “Formation” was released, Red Lobster’s sales went up 33%, purely based off a mere one-liner. Who better to start a conversation like this, about race politics, than Beyonce? She acknowledges this power a few lines later when she says, “I might get your song played on the radio station.”

            Now, let’s talk about the line: “You just might be a black Bill Gates in the making, I just might be a black Bill Gates in the making.” The line has caught some criticism from people saying: “Why would your aspiration be to be a rich white man?” Well, there is so much subtext in this line—and a powerful message about black America. Who holds the power? White men. Who has most of the wealth? White men. For Beyonce to truly break ground and change something, she would have to be as rich—no, wealthy—as Bill Gates. The man has enough money to give out a hundred-thousand dollar scholarship each year. And why can’t a black woman attain those same heights? Simple—white privilege. The fact that Beyonce says “might” clues in on her, and all of our hesitance—can a black person ever reach Bill Gates-level wealth? Even Beyonce, one of the most powerful black women in the world, has her doubts.

            The imagery in the video is particularly stirring—shots of a magazine cover with Martin Luther King Jr.’s face on it, black women pictured in slave-esque clothes, Bey and her dancers getting in formation at the bottom of a pool, drowning in the pressures of society. But the one moment that stands out is a moment where a little black boy in a hoodie, who previously was dancing defiantly in front of a row of white police, stops and puts his hands up in protest. The police follow suit as if they’re innocent, and the video quickly cuts to a Graffiti-scrawled “Stop Killing Us” on a wall. This moment gave me chills, not just because Bey dared to include such a powerful message about police brutality in her video, but because it seems like she’s whispering in your ear, saying, “Look at this. Look at this.” Pointing out injustice is not anti-police; it’s simply pro-justice, and pro-black. (It should also be noted that hours before “Formation” released, Beyonce donated $1.5m to Black Lives Matter and other charities, and also donated a hefty sum of money to the Flint water crisis. You go, Bey.)

            “You know you that bitch when you cause all this conversation,” Beyonce whispers, a perfect prelude to the storm of controversy that followed her release of the song. Indeed, she caused a lot of conversation—people are still wondering if her Super Bowl halftime performance’s allusion to the Black Panthers is a threat to police and if she should be allowed to perform in certain states. She dropped the song knowing it would start controversy—and not caring. As said above, she realizes that in order to get this conversation going, she has to throw herself under the bus and risk being torn apart by the media. Powerful, powerful stuff.

            And then, my personal favorite line: “Always stay gracious, best revenge is your paper.” It calls to mind a similar line from Kendrick Lamar’s To Pimp A Butterfly, which also tackled racism: “What you want, you a house, you a car, 40 acres and a mule, a piano, a guitar?” For black America, the ultimate aspiration has been reparations. We’ve long wanted to be paid back in some way, shape or form for the atrocities of what was done to us, and we still hunger for it. Not only in society and the ridiculous amount of black men incarcerated or jailed, but in the lack of representation for the black community in jobs, offices and awards shows. They have ignored us, and they have ignored us for so long that the only conceivable way to have any revenge is financially. The American dollar—the thing black America has chased so long, has hungered for, to be paid. It would seem the best revenge is indeed our paper.

            So in summary, the song is pro-black and seems to focus mainly on unifying the black community. We have taken long strides in race equality, and things are much better in 2016 than they were in 1875, or even in 1954. But there is still much work to be done. “Formation” points out the flaws with society today, and highlights that you don’t have to conform to the norms of society to fit in. Beyonce is not championing the destruction of the police system and twerking on the end of the force. She’s simply trying to show black folks that we’re great the way we are, with our full lips and nappy ‘fros and flawless skin and colorful melanin. But the only way we can change the perception of us is to work together—to follow Beyonce’s catchy, yet powerful command. Okay, black America, now let’s get in formation.