Imani Davis, Head Writer
In case y’all forgot, we’ve been blessed. Beyoncé, our only President, gifted us with the news of her pregnancy on the first day of Black History Month. Although undeniably positive, this moment gives us a chance to reflect on the politics of Black motherhood and the many ways in which love can exist. What does it mean for a Black woman who holds so much social currency to take control of the narrative of her pregnancy, and to simply bask in her own glo?
There have been a variety of different reactions to America learning of its new First Children, going from purely celebratory to hypercritical. This is to be expected. This isn’t new. Since the US’s violent genesis, a magnifying glass has been placed on the reproductive practices of Black women and childbearing folks. They were, and remain, essential to maintaining US institutions and social norms. In this way, it’s American tradition to offer critique of a Black woman trying to build life into the world. So when articles and other commentary surface with the intent to draw attention away from her, it’s actually a removal of power.
Look, Beyoncé has told us how she’d like to be considered in the public imagination. We don’t see her when she doesn’t want to be seen. Even her worst critique (i.e, “Boycott Beyoncé”) she somehow turned into her advantage, selling apparel with the phrase at her sold-out concert venues. On this rare occasion, she’s chosen to let us step into her personal world to celebrate her motherhood, as risky as that may be. We know the danger and bravery that Black parents must confront in order to raise children in a world that would prefer them gone. So for this moment, this small joy, we can afford to put everything down and affirm her womanhood and motherhood alone. All there’s really left to do is praise her, tbh.