As she is wont to do, surprised the world overnight with a new song, "Black Parade." Released in the final hours of Juneteenth — the holiday observing the June 19, 1865 date which marked the end of slavery in the United States — the song sounds like an outright celebration. The Juneteenth release date is especially deliberate, coming from µþ±ð²â´Ç²Ô³¦Ã©, a proud Texas artist: The commemoration itself is tied directly to the day the enslaved in Texas were finally informed of their freedom, two-and-a-half years after the Emancipation Proclamation.
So when µþ±ð²â´Ç²Ô³¦Ã© sings, "I'm goin' back to the South," at the opening of the song, it's a substantive statement declaring and reclaiming her roots. Co-produced by µþ±ð²â´Ç²Ô³¦Ã© and her long-time collaborator Derek Dixie, and penned by a small army of writers (Blu June, Brittany Coney, Worldwide Fresh, Derek Dixie, Kaydence, Caso, JAY-Z, and µþ±ð²â´Ç²Ô³¦Ã© herself), "Black Parade" is the ever-evolving artist's offering of musical empowerment as a stand-in for the Juneteenth parades that can't take place this year due to Covid-19.
"Yeah, yeah, I'm for us, all Black," she boasts on the track. "All chrome, Black-owned." According to µþ±ð²â´Ç²Ô³¦Ã©'s , proceeds from "Black Parade" will support Black-owned small businesses in need, through the singer's BeyGOOD initiative. Additionally, the site lists a directory of Black-owned businesses — the "Black Parade Route" — curated by Zerina Akers, founder of Black Owned Everything, and "wardrobe curator" for celebrities like µþ±ð²â´Ç²Ô³¦Ã© and Parkwood Entertainment artists Chloe x Halle.
"Being Black is your activism," the post tied to the song's release states. Music is µþ±ð²â´Ç²Ô³¦Ã©'s form of protest. Outside of the studio, her commitments to Black liberation remain palatable and polite; in an Instagram video discussing George Floyd's death in May, she calmly calls for petitions and prayer. But on wax, she's vocal and vexed: "Need peace and reparation for my people," she sings at one point in the song. "F*** these laid edges, I'ma let it shrivel up / F*** this fade and waves, I'ma let it dread all up." With these lines, Bey is defenestrating respectability politics, especially those that come with policing Black self-expression.
In addition to addressing the Black American experience, µþ±ð²â´Ç²Ô³¦Ã© uses "Black Parade" to draw attention to Africa: "Motherland drip on me, motherland, motherland drip on me," she borderline chants. Throughout the song, µþ±ð²â´Ç²Ô³¦Ã© casually weaves those references into one another, shouting out the Egyptian Ankh symbol, and name-dropping Osun, a goddess of the Yoruba religion based in Nigeria. She takes it a step further and expands to include diasporic traditions and routines we've seldom heard her speak about, like charging crystals in a full moon, and encouraging the ghosts of her ancestors to chat amongst themselves in her home.
As I in 2018, µþ±ð²â´Ç²Ô³¦Ã© has methodically transitioned from using her music as a vehicle for pop domination to using it as a means to position her support of Black pride, front and center, in all of its iterations. "Black Parade," a call to action and a salve for a wounded nation, is the latest extension of that.
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