A Day in DC

Yesterday, I traveled to Washington, DC along with a million or so other people to participate in the Women's March that took place following Donald Trump's inauguration event. I sure that most participants would agree that the trip was a whirlwind of emotions and experiences. In my case, four songs surfaced over the course of the weekend that helped me make sense of the event, and perhaps a little more sense of how the world looks after the most recent election.

One of many MLK quote signs seen on the walk from RFK Stadium to the rally. Out of town buses parked at RFK Stadium and marchers walked from there to the Mall.

The Beatles, 'Across the Universe'
I took a bus to DC and on the way down, we watched the movie 'Across the Universe,' a 2007 'British-American jukebox musical romantic drama film' (convoluted genre definition per Wikipedia). While the film itself did not leave much of an impression, I did get the song 'Across the Universe' stuck in my head as a result. One line of it stayed with me throughout the weekend: 'Nothing's gonna change my world.' As I looked around DC and saw the juxtaposition of the inauguration aftermath and women's march, this line took on new meaning.

'Nothing's gonna change my world' felt particularly applicable to those who claim they can 'make America great again'--bring it back from its current changes to some kind of better time. This slogan has already been subject to great criticism, and rightly so, as it is hard to envision an era when America was equally great for all. This imagined time and place fits what Svetlana Boym identified as a key trait of nostalgia:

It is the promise to rebuild the ideal home that lies at the core of many powerful ideologies of today, tempting us to relinquish critical thinking for emotional bonding. The danger of nostalgia is that it tends to confuse the actual home with an imaginary one. In extreme cases, it can create a phantom homeland, for the sake of which one is ready to die or kill. Unelected nostalgia breeds monsters.

The term 'unelected' feels particularly ironic here. Boym was writing in 2001 and her subject was primarily the nostalgia that permeated the Soviet Bloc, encouraged and established by its dictators. Today's nostalgic longing to 'make America great again' is cut from the same cloth, but was produced in a democracy by a group of people who refuse to let anything change their world. Boym identifies this type of nostalgia as 'restorative,' a type of nostalgia that relies on concepts of 'truth and tradition'--although in this 'post-truth' world (as in the Soviet Bloc), there are many ways to inflect truth with fiction. Boym continues:

Restorative nostalgia is at the core of recent national and religious revivals. It knows two main plots—the return to origins and the conspiracy...Restorative nostalgia takes itself dead seriously.

Restorative nostalgia is a danger because it is a fiction that presents itself as truth. As such, it is nearly impossible to argue with its catchphrases. 'Make America Great Again' presents exactly this problem: I cannot cogently maintain that America was 'never great'. I can nuance the discussion by suggesting its greatness was mired in inequality (arguments that others have made far more expertly than I) or its triumphs have benefited some individuals rather than the greater good. But it is wholly impossible to counter nostalgia with facts. If nothing's gonna change your world, then nostalgia is the only means available to preserve it.

Public Enemy, 'Fight the Power'
For the first part of the day, I was unable to get close to the speakers because there were so many people at the rally, so my experience was remarkably free of noise apart from the murmurs of the crowd (and occasional chant/cheer). Participants in the march were told ahead of time not to bring large bags because they would be subject to search, but not everyone heeded this guideline. Early in the afternoon, one man walked by where I was sitting with a boombox playing 'Fight the Power.' On the surface, this song seems like an appropriate one for the march, whose mandate was not limited to women's rights, but rights for all who experienced inequality. Indeed, why were we all there unless we were fighting the power? But as I thought more about it, I couldn't reconcile this song with this event.

'Fight the Power' is also a slogan, although clearly it does not draw from the same nostalgia as MAGA. But it is a unilateral declaration by Chuck D in the song. The Women's March, in contrast, did not have a single slogan. Instead, marchers brought signs, many of which were made by hand and sharing different messages. Calls for public art brought varied interpretations of the march's ideas--several of these signs were brought by those marching, along with art by Shepard Fairey. As we were walking from the bus to the Mall, a young black girl held up one of Fairey's posters:

'Thank you!' she yelled enthusiastically as the crowd walked by. 'Thank you all for coming!'

While the Women's March may have sought to fight the power, it was the multiplicity of voices that made it such a powerful event. All of the signs were rooted in the fundamental idea of equality, but the variations on this theme were almost overwhelming in their volume. Signs were seen all over town--many left on display near the National Gallery--imparting their messages even as the event wound down.

Beyoncé, 'Formation'
I did finally manage to get to a place where I could hear the speakers for the rally as the speakers drew to a close (I missed the Madonna moment, for instance--this is the hazard of attending rather than watching the highlights). There was also indigenous music performed to wind up the official ceremonies--while I was unable to find a clip of that performance, Indigenous Women Rise was an important presence at the march. Once the ceremonies concluded, music turned over to a DJ, who started off the party with what was, perhaps, the obvious choice: Beyoncé's 'Formation.' Naturally, the crowd responded enthusiastically.

As I have written about before, 'Formation' is an important song within Beyoncé's oeuvre because it engages with her identity as a black female artist. It accomplishes this in part by imbricating personal details: she has 'hot sauce in her bag swag,' we learn about her origins as a 'Texas bama.' What struck me listening to 'Formation' in this context is that the women around her bring their identities too. We hear their voices later in the track during the 'slay/okay' section, as they get in formation. This imagery fit the event almost perfectly as so many different people came together for the cause.

Undoubtedly this struck me because I was deeply moved by how variegated the crowd was. It was impossible to know what motivated each person to participate, but it was incredible to witness so many people who felt strongly enough to fight for equality that they traveled to DC and participated in the event. We all slayed, everyone who marched, wherever you marched. Thank you for being in formation.

Kid Rock, 'All Summer Long'
As I was leaving the rally, I almost stumbled into an event held by Bikers For Trump up the street from the Mall. The music playing sounded like Kid Rock (it may not have been), and it brought back a nostalgia that was almost wholly absent from the rally. Even the name 'Kid Rock' is nostalgic: he is no longer a kid, and this reference to 'rock' hearkens back to the 60s or 70s. 'All Summer Long' is a song that doubles down on its nostalgia, quoting from Lynyrd Skynyrd's 'Sweet Alabama'--an ode to the nostalgia of place in its own right--in the process. In an instant, I was back in a place that wants to Make America Great Again with its pseudo-rock music that longs for another time. In the distance, I could still hear chants from the world that yearns for change.

Beyoncé's Black Arts Formation

Over the past weekend, while you were going about your business, Beyoncé managed to drop a song pretty much out of nowhere on an unsuspecting public, then take over the Superbowl halftime show like she was the headliner. Also she reinvented her role in contemporary culture, overpowering the limitations frequently imposed on female pop stars to engage directly with an escalating civil rights movement. Lastly, she almost fell down while performing but recovered without even missing a beat because when she isn't busy with all the rest of this, she evidently takes the time to do some squats. But I'm getting ahead of myself here. Let's go back to the song that launched a thousand--or perhaps even more--think pieces.

'Formation' is, as many commentators have pointed out, a song that indisputably engages with blackness, both in its video's imagery and its sound by drawing on tropes associated with black culture, particularly that of New Orleans. Not surprisingly given the subject matter, the video incorporates images from the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina, culminating in Beyoncé on top of a police car sinking into a lake. 'Formation' conjures up similar imagery to Kendrick Lamar's most poignant contribution to the new civil rights movement, the song 'Alright' and its video. Indeed, it would surprise me if Beyoncé had not had aspects of Lamar's video in mind when preparing hers. But that doesn't diminish from Beyoncé's achievement in any way. The issues that are raised by both--the neglect of black communities, the terror state imposed on them by the police--are the crucial issues at the core of this civil rights movement and their importance should be central to this new Black Art.

Due to the subject matter, the polarizing nature of this song may not be a surprise. Yet there is more here than a debate about civil rights; instead, there is a larger shift in our understanding of what Beyoncé means. As Danielle C. Belton points out at The Root, Beyoncé has been, for many, 'some ethereal, race-less, colorless transformative nymph who could doo-wop pop whatever you projected upon her,' but that this image was always, to some extent, a façade. Belton continues:

What if I told you Beyoncé was always political? Even when she was doo-wop popping in Destiny’s Child. What if I told you that to be black in a public space, with all eyes on you and choosing carefully how to handle that spotlight is a form of politics, a negotiation between the self and the world that all black people must make?

I want to build on Belton's idea by expanding on just how significant it is that this 'transformative nymph' chose to make this video. For it is not only Beyoncé asserting her identity (i.e., her formation) that is key, but particularly that she did so without shying away from the core tenets of today's civil rights.

Prior to 'Formation,' I would argue, Beyoncé was a pop star first, and all other identities second--with this moniker comes certain constraints, particularly for female artists. Acting in a sexually provocative way is virtually mandated; perhaps it is for this reason that many of these women tackle the issue of gay rights, as they are subject to critiques for performing their gender in such a public way, a tradition that extends back to at least Madonna and continues to Lady Gaga and Miley Cyrus today. Yet on other issues, female pop stars wield virtually no power. One prominent example is Britney Spears, whose mental health problems were little more than fodder for the paparazzi surrounding her. Female pop stars are expected to sing and act their parts, but otherwise to remain silent.

Even more so in the realm of hip hop, where the lack of women's voices is a critique often leveled against it. This lacuna becomes even more apparent when considering many of the songs that espouse the values of this new civil rights movement. Take, for instance, the opening to Spike Lee's Do the Right Thing, when Rosie Perez violently dances to Public Enemy's 'Fight the Power.' She may be the one fighting, but there is no indication that this is her fight; instead, she is silence as we hear the lyrics of Chuck D. (in the song's video, women are notably underrepresented).

Beyoncé's music has always resided comfortably in the realm of pop, although she is not wholly disengaged with hip hop, particularly since her husband is Jay-Z. Indeed, the vast majority of her songs would fail whatever the pop song equivalent is of the Bechdel Test, in that men are integral to their narratives. She may be crazy in love, she may be drunk in love, he may be a baby boy, he may have left and is now realizing she is irreplaceable, but there was always a he. Even when he is absent, she is singing to her single ladies about the man who should have put a ring on it. Occasionally, Beyoncé also brings in a girl power song, a pop trope that goes back to at least the Spice Girls' Zig-Ah-Zig-Ahs, but without too much power and far more emphasis on girl. Indeed, the terms found in Beyoncé's career are youthful: child of destiny, girls running the world.

In an age where Disney stars frequently need to throw off the shackles of their childhood careers, we are used to the idea of Lady Pop Stars Growing Up In The Public Eye, a move that can be signaled by a song (Miley's 'Party in the USA' turns into a 'Wrecking Ball') or, in the case of Brit Brit, a song about the ambivalence of growing old ('I'm Not A Girl, Not Yet A Woman'), combined with a movie (Crossroads), and one extremely notorious VMA Award kiss from Madonna. Just as their provocations must be sexual, their coming of age is as well--there is nothing particularly controversial about 'Wrecking Ball' as a song, but there certainly is about the video. In terms of age, Beyoncé is fully grown, but it is with 'Formation' that she finally matures in terms of her music. Rather than court sexual provocation, she has focused her energy instead toward the more crucial issues of our day: on black identity and why black identity is in peril. In this, she is unique (so far) among her contemporaries (the vast majority of whom are white).

Beyoncé slays at Superbowl 50

Not only this, but she unveiled this new image at the most public venue imaginable: during the halftime show of the most watched television program of the year. That this song and its subject courted controversy is not surprising; after all, as Bey herself states, 'You know you that bitch when you cause all this conversation.' But unlike the female pop stars before her, this is the look of power, not the look of provocation. Welcome to Queen Bey and her Formation.