A very biased review of BiK: off the top of my head
Not just a speck in the universe
Not just some words in a bible verse
You are the living word
Ah, you’re part of something way bigger
Bigger than you‚ bigger than we
Bigger than the picture they framed us to see
But now we see it
And it ain’t no secret‚ no
‘Black is King means black is regal and rich, in history, in purpose and in lineage’ — Beyonce Knowles C****r
Between the pandemic and a sense of global political restlessness, watching this movie felt like a much-needed suspension of reality. It nourished me in ways that I didn’t expect and made me really excited to see how Bey’s career would unfold going forward. As a loud and proud ant-Beyhiver, it took me a while to reach a place where I could openly acknowledge Beyonce’s influence on my life, yet remain critical of some of the ideas she chooses to propel. I hope in this piece I can speak into the elements of the visual work that spoke to me, while with compassion, love, and careful scrutiny, gently outline my areas of concern. I hope I can do this in a way that probes deeper into the broader context that birthed this work and ground it in my eternal disdain for capital and empire.
- Access: Coming to terms with Bey’s capitalistic ways
When I first heard that the movie would air on m-net I thought ‘Aaah shit, who do I need to scam to get those log in details’. I was already drafting my ‘Beyonce is a capitalist and hates the continentals’ think piece by then until I had to call myself to my own red table talk for falling prey to twitter’s (profitable) reactionary ways.
It was almost as though I had entirely forgotten that this project is under the banner of the Lion King, a Disney owned production; and that the inaccessibility of the movie in this sense was on a global scale given that it was released on paid streaming sites only. So at first, my critique was misdirected, targeting Beyonce for being a bloodthirsty black capitalist and thus failed to consider the coming about of this work more broadly; and secondly, it sought to exceptionalize the issue of access as specifically African/South African. Considering the global scale of Disney’s influence as a corporate entity, I felt it unfair that Beyonce’s brand had to carry the full weight of this critique, and felt that the label ‘black capitalist’ under-considered Disney’s role in all of this.
2019 saw the corporate empire purchase 21 Century Fox in preparation for the launch of its streaming site, Disney pus. This purchase meant that Disney would own shows like Modern Family and This is Us. Disney had already owned a major share in the streaming platform Hulu by then. My point is that Disney yields an enormous amount of power in the entertainment world, and they clearly plan on expanding. Now I am not saying Beyonce is without fault in this, she had long been clear about her black nationalist, capitalist-friendly political orientation. In 2016 she reminded us that your best revenge is your paper and was lauded for encouraging this kind of wealth aspiration in her fanbase and the black community at large. It is for this reason that it is unsurprising that Beyonce would embark on a project that saw her align her brand with that of a scary huge corporate power. She did this with Netflix and HBO already. This speaks into a longstanding critique of Beyonce’s brand and is not groundbreaking in any way.
BiK does not do much to engage in a deliberate anti-capitalist reimagining of Africa simply because Beyonce has yet to come forward to pledge solidarity to the class struggle, beyond the scope of BLM.
Do I think this is okay? My personal anti-capitalist convictions would lead me to say no. But by her own standards, Beyonce is doing great work.
In as much as I would love for Beyonce to use her brand to spread communist propaganda, that is simply not who she is. When we tender critiques of artistic works I feel it important that we couch them in the relevant context. In this case that would be one of Beyonce’s brand and ambitions of a dynasty, the monopoly that is Disney, and most importantly that of the American Entertainment Industry at large.
The work is inaccessible in the same way capital renders everything it’s proximate to inaccessible. So when people harp on about access I always wonder, what it is about that particular moment that calls for access. And perhaps, in this case, the ‘revolutionary’ subject matter of the work may have called for better measures at improving access. But at the end of the day when you consider the institutional context this movie sprouts from, curing the access question would not make it any less tainted.
2. Hollywood shmollywood: Another kind of Empire
As a kid, I remember how I would watch TV and aspire to live my own Hollywood dream someday. By then I had already considered that the famous people (even the fictional ones) that I would encounter in my daily watching did not even think about the speck of dust that is South Africa. I was well aware of our insignificance within the global entertainment landscape, with the Mandela brand being our biggest contribution to the American entertainment imagination. This is the power of cultural imperialism, and institutions like Hollywood rely on this kind of reasoning to re-assert their claim at being the best (or whatever). BiK can not be considered outside of the cultural imperialist entertainment industry it is now thriving in.
As a black person from the developing world, my social middle-class experience was defined by how intricately I knew American movies and music. It took a lot to undo the work of aspiring towards an American dream and to stop exceptionalizing even the black american celebrities and entertainers that I loved. This was in recognition of how this conditioning altered my perception of continental Africans, including myself. This interrogation of my American leaning cultural sensibilities inspires my deep suspicion when engaging with anything to do with that place. Black American entertainers, such as Kendrick for example, have long been suspicious of white America, and have publicly called out white America’s pattern of pimping black entertainers and artists. And this was the essence of some of the allegations towards Beyonce, that she was commodifying African looks and sounds.
But ironically enough, this was the aspect of the project that black Americans I saw on my TL chose to dwell on in their criticisms. Concerns, ranging from Beyonce being light-skinned, to her work being capitalism draped in an African aesthetic were raised. Now I won’t look too deeply into the merits of these kinds of critiques, but they reveal something unfortunate about how black Americans perceive us. We are seen as a monolith, a homo of sorts, and most sorely, profoundly different from them. That the idea of black light-skinned people and creole communities existing in Africa is unfathomable in the imagination of black AFRICAN-American people is deeply sad, and an iteration of the notorious ‘divide and conquer’ strategy. Empire always socially engineers itself towards its interests, and sowing divisions in the underclass is one way of organizing against its threats. And by threats, I mean us — black people here there and everywhere. And so when I look at the negative, and sometimes ill-informed critiques of this project, I also underscore it with this knowledge.
As much as Noname’s tweet annoyed me, it would be unfair to not consider the role played by huge black industry powers within this above-mentioned imperial framework. Beyonce is Beyonce is Beyonce. Regardless of how many African artists she put on, she is part of an industry that will either deem the works of these artists as exceptional or unworthy. Exceptional in the sense that working with Beyonce may lead many in the west to see Beyonce’s BiK collaborators as the only viable forms of African representation. Noting that tokenism is a common response to perceived threats, a good pacifier. Also, this would be no fault of the artists, shit is lit out here — God I wish my brand was tied to Bey even though I hate her (Okay I am lying). At an individual level, this is good for the artists involved, but it must not be conflated to producing the meaningful structural change to the entertainment industries in the continent. Because the kind of structural changes needed can not exist alongside predatory corporate entities such as Disney.
3. Chile — Now let me conclude.
By showing the shortcomings of Beyonce’s brand and then tying it back to the two themes of capital and empire, I hope to show an appreciation of the structural and interpersonal nature of power. Beyonce as a brand is powerful, capable of intervening at various points in the interest of black people. This we have seen in how she was able to pull off this MASSIVE feat. However, it must be acknowledged that the structural forces that determine the ebb and flow of Hollywood do not serve the interests of black people. And that where we interact with work that is embedded in this kind of context, we are bound to feel dissatisfied in some way or the other, and that our suspicion is warranted. Capital has this really rude way of reminding you that it’s there, all the time and it is deeply frustrating. But with this acknowledged I wish to conclude by reflecting on what Beyonce got right — televangelism.
When I heard Bigger as BiK started, my heart did that weird funny thing. You know that thing… it feels kind of nice but also uncomfortable and at the same time spectacularly beautiful. It felt like I was telepathically connected to black people — and when I say black I mean victims of conquest.
This idea of ‘something bigger’ the quoted song speaks of, is one that drew my attention. It captures so beautifully what Beyonce does in this visual story, adding a much needed temporal and spiritual dimension to our conception of black. Dedicated to her son Rumi, this story sees Beyonce move through space and time as an ancestral figure, intervening in human affairs as we are introduced to the visuals of each track. And by taking us with, we experience what I can only understand to be a collective retracing of self.
Noting that BiK is a retelling of the Lion King, Bey’s treatment of the concept of lineage is particularly beautiful. By dedicating this to her son, we see how high the stakes are for her too. That she is raising black children, a black son, in a world where black people are predetermined targets for state violence is important to consider. By immersing herself in an array of continental traditions and style, she also takes us along on what is perhaps a personal journey of retracing her ancestral ties to the continent. When she sings about being a part of something bigger I imagine this is what she means.
And perhaps to close on a point about my absolute favorite thing about BiK. Not only does she show us how high the stakes are, she chooses to forge cross-national solidarity birthed in art and family. When I saw the scene where Beyonce was Nala’s (played by Nandi Madida) ancestor I was like YES! Beyonce was telling us that we are family, or at least in community. And much like Mufasa, this project positions Beyonce as someone with vested interests in the future livelihoods of not only her children but the black community at large. In effect, this work is exactly what the lyrics above describe, a visual experience in recognition that we are a part of something way bigger. And by saying this Beyonce attempts to mend the severed relationship between the continent and those in the diaspora. And I can appreciate Beyonce’s ability to understand that race is wafer-thin in its capacity to hold the fullness of our experience; and that we are tied by something deeper, something not found in the hue of our skin, not in how tight our coils are, not in our license to say nigga. But perhaps in our almost divine and cosmic adherence to a similar beat of life, and my god have you seen us dance?
**this was another stream of consciousness type piece, hope you enjoyed it