I Saw Beyoncé. She’s Not Performing for Me

In August, I paid $400 to see Beyoncé and realize I’m not her audience.

I’ll admit it: I vacillated about attending the Renaissance World Tour. The tickets were expensive. The start time was after my bedtime.

Crowds? Not me.

Lines? It’s a no for me.

But then I saw Blue Ivy claiming her fame, and I really, really wanted to see her and join the #IvyLeague, so I bit a four-hundred bullet (a silver one, in fact) and joined the horde.

As people filed into the stadium, I watched metallic, glitter, and fishnet fill the room. I saw folks who took off judgment and put on jewelry. People who discarded damnation in favor of diamonds. People who refused criticism and donned crystals.

People who found their safe space and reveled.

When I overheard a young male beauty supply store employee talk about how he was going to see Beyoncé, I wondered how he would be able to afford it. The concert was expensive, and that’s before transportation and parking. Plus, the OUTFIT. Whew, our poor pockets.

What I didn’t realize then was that the cost didn’t matter. It was an expense worth his life. He would be in a space where he felt free, felt joy, felt community.

See, there are too many spaces in our country that aren’t safe. Too many places where people are targeted and singled out and pointed out. Too many places where people can’t be free. Too many places where people have to hide.

But not in the world of Renaissance.

Not in Beyonce’s Hive.

And I’m grateful I contributed $400 to help make space for someone who desperately needs it, for Uncle Johnny’s children. And for making this, Beyoncé made a hive out of me.

So, yes, I paid $400 to see Beyoncé and realize I’m not her audience.

But please believe I will do it again.