This past weekend, I stood in a crowd of nearly 100,000 people in a desert two hours southeast of Los Angeles and witnessed Beyoncé claim her throne as the greatest entertainer of our generation in a two-hour long performance that will certainly be looked back on as a historic moment for American culture.
It was the annual Coachella Valley Music and Art Festival, a three-night, two-weekend revelry that showcases the best, as well as emerging talents in electronic, hip-hop and indie rock music. Since its official inception back in 1999, Coachella has cemented its impact and legacy as one of the most significant musical events in the world when it became the first reoccurring festival to gross more than $100 million. It is the second-most in-demand concert ticket in the entire world, trailing only Belgium’s Tomorrowland festival. In recent years, Coachella has soared even further in popularity thanks, in part, to young Hollywood’s invasion of the festival. So, it seemed fitting when one of the biggest festivals in the world announced that one of the biggest acts of all time, Queen B, would be headlining their 2017 shows. However, nature took its course and Beyoncé was forced to pull out, only months before, because of her pregnancy with twins, Rumi and Sir.
With all the time that had passed and the amount of anticipation that had been built up, I think we all knew that Beyoncé was going to make the wait worth our while by putting on a dazzling performance equipped with angelic vocals and choreography that we’d all be trying to emulate the next day. But what I had failed to prepare for was her boldness, her own sense of greatness. She took the stage of a gritty festival in the middle of a Southern California desert and turned it into a platform to be unapologetically Black.
Her show was slated to begin on the main stage at 11 p.m., so by 10 p.m. people had already begun packing into the surrounding area. At exactly 11:11 p.m. the lights dimmed and an announcement welcoming us to Beyoncé Homecoming 2018 was made. Then, almost immediately, we heard the pattering beat of a drumstick on a snare drum. At first it started slowly, but then, as the camera revealed the drummer was female, the beats gradually moved faster and faster as the camera got closer and closer to her face. She’s mean mugging the camera, exuding the same amount of energy through her pursed lips and eyes as she is with her hands—which are creating the only sound we can hear. She finishes out her cadence before picking up her whistle and giving a command call for the (surprise) full-size marching band to join in. The other instruments’ sounds fall in line as marching band flags reveal Black female dancers, all dressed in sphinx-printed unitards and leather berets, hitting every single note before moving aside to reveal the queen herself.
It is at this moment that I realize this performance is not going to be what I, or anyone else for that matter, had counted on seeing on any Coachella stage—ever. For when she finally reveals herself, Beyoncé is outfitted as royalty—a true queen. But not just any queen, she’s undeniably an African queen. Making a statement to the audience before she even picks up a microphone. Dripping in a gold and diamond cape and donning a headdress worthy of Nefertiti herself, Beyoncé struts her famous curves down the runway to that familiar sound of an HBCU marching band while the crowd literally goes insane, eating up every moment of her presence. In this moment she is reminding festivalgoers this icon that they all love and worship is a Black woman.
She sneaks off stage to make the first of many outfit changes, while the dancers from earlier entertain the crowd with majorette-style moves. When Beyoncé returns to the stage she’s in a more relaxed outfit: cutoff shorts, rhinestone-fringe boots and a yellow hoodie with a fictional college crest plastered across it. She assumes her position, takes in the crowd, allows for the marching band to slow down, and then begins similar majorette-style choreography to the beats of the band. It’s not long before trumpets take the lead and the recognizable tune of “Crazy in Love,” her first single as a solo artist, begins.
For the next two hours, the mother of three treated festivalgoers —most of whom were white upper-class kids that have hardly been to the South, let alone an HBCU— to some of the greatest and most entertaining traditions in Black culture. She interwove her most popular chart toppers and one-liners with the traditional chanting style used by sororities and fraternities. They were given a taste of what energy at events such as probates, step shows, battle of the bands or HBCU classics feels like through a few comical skits and a lot of music.
Although the amount of vigor needed to perform at that level for that long is impressive enough, what I most respected from Beyoncé’s performance (and the reason I think this performance truly will be considered historic) was her boldness. She was given the opportunity to become the first Black female to headline this event, and so she forcefully accentuated her Blackness. Although most would have tried to tone down their Blackness to be accepted more by the audience that they were being paid to entertain, Beyoncé toned hers all the way up.
Even her mother worried that Coachella might not be the stage to reveal such a culturally influenced show. Tina Knowles-Lawson revealed on Instagram that once she expressed her concerns to her daughter, Beyoncé replied, “I have worked very hard to get to the point where I have a true voice, and at this point in my life and my career, I have a responsibility to do what’s best for the world and not what is most popular.” It’s that kind of boldness that Black culture needs. The kind of boldness that is never afraid to showcase our gifts, no matter who or how many may be watching.
Megan Pinckney (@shadesofpinck) is a retired beauty queen turned lifestyle blogger who loves exploring the world and writing about it.