I watched you perform last night from the warmth of a friend’s home. From the moment your silhouette slowly, seductively made its way up on to the well-lit stage, two words came to mind: uh… oh.
Uh-oh because of the world I find myself in that is quick to to come down hard on a woman who doesn’t live up to their conditions. Uh-oh because I knew of all the criticisms to come, the worst flowing from the mouths of your own kind: women.
I don’t understand women who don’t support other women. We have to. – Martina McBride
Criticisms like “God help her”, “That’s no way a woman should dress”, “I had to turn my TV off”, “This is what’s wrong with our country today”.
But truthfully, Beyonce, this isn’t even about you… this is about all women: my sister, my mom, my friend, you… me.
This is about every woman who worked hard to buy a window outfit that spoke to her, only to have someone call her “slutty” or “inappropriate” or “trashy” when she found a night to wear it.
This is about that mentee with the mentally unstable mother, who bought a cute shirt at the second-hand store after earning the money at a real job, but it could never meet the quality of her peers (and I watched it happen).
This is about me being so damn tired of women not supporting one another.
This is to women with young daughters, who hear every tsk tsk and “We need more role models, not scantily dressed women on stage!” you utter. Because you are the main role model, and at this very moment, you are teaching them how to treat other women.
And because I don’t want to ever again see that look on a young girl’s face when she learns her outfit and body have enemies she didn’t expect, and she finds she can’t trust a women’s voice again.
Thanks for listening.