culture / Maddy McLean

BOW DOWN BITCHES

beyonce-donates-mad-money-to-homeless

My friends and I got the cops called on us the other night. Noise violation. We were watching Beyoncé’s visual album again. Whoops.

Before this month, I never would have considered myself a Beyoncé fan. At all. I knew there were cult-like Beyoncé lovers cropping up all around me, I didn’t get it. That is, until this fucking pinnacle of an album came out.
 
I mean HO-LY SHIT.
 
I cannot even describe how obsessed I am. Like oh my god. I think I have a problem.
 
Beyoncé is a genius. As a Public Relations major, I am amazed and intrigued and in awe and extremely jealous about how brilliant her promotional campaign was.
 
BECAUSE THERE WASN’T ONE.
 
Who would have guessed that the best PR, advertising, and marketing campaign would be to not have a PR, advertising, and marketing campaign?
 
 (Hint: it’s Beyoncé, she guessed it)
 
Just three days after dropping her top-secret album, it broke the U.S. iTunes Store’s record for the largest sales week for any album – ever. And it wasn’t until after the initial 617,000 album downloads that word began to spread.
 
Her self-named album features 14 tracks, all of which are accompanied with magnetically compelling videos. In these videos, Beyoncé moves her body in ways formally thought to be impossible. Even if you only watch two minutes of the album, you too will know she has the best ass in the industry. Heck, the WORLD.
 
Girls: If Beyoncé hasn’t made you question your sexuality at least once, you’re doing it wrong. Boys: Yes, we know. Beyoncé is the all living, all dancing crap of the world. We secretly want to have sex with her just as much as you do. Goddam, goddam.
 
I know, I know, objectifying Beyoncé is wrong. But as previously stated, she’s more than just a sexual gift from God – she’s a genius. A musical genius. I mean have you listened to the lyrics? Pure. Musical. Genius. I don’t care how debatable her feminist credentials may be; this album is all about girl power and body politics.
 
Don’t believe me? Look at the first song, Pretty Hurts. The chorus literally says, “we shine the light on whatever’s worst, we try to fix something but you can’t fix what you can’t see, it’s the soul that needs the surgery.”
 
I’ll spell out what she’s saying: our society is fucked. The accompanying video, filled with bulimia and girls swallowing cotton balls in substitute of dinner, is enough to send just about anyone over the edge. Do we really still live in a world where girls starve themselves just to be the thinnest person in the room?
 
The answer is yes. Perfection truly is a disease of a nation.
 
The rest of the mid-tempo album is filled with just as many controversial issues – beauty pageants, living to work versus working to live, giving blow jobs, experiencing a miscarriage, having a child – Beyoncé basically covers it all.
 

So thank you, Beyoncé. Thank you for reaching out to me with your masterfully crafted album and pulling me head first into your cult-like fan club. Thank you for being a musical genius. Thank you for sharing your ass with the world. Thank you for making us girls feel flawless, even when we’re not. I even thank you for the noise violation, which, by the way, we got out of because, like the rest of us, the cops worship you.  

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