I have just returned from Coachella. These are words I never imagined would dance upon my lips. But, life is funny like that, isn’t it? Things change. You change. Everything is changing.
I never once thought I would live in Los Angeles, either. Yet— here I am. I was always under the impression LA was full to the brim of soulless, shirtless narcissistic toolbags. This notion was based merely on a hunch, having never actually spent much time there.
Since moving to LA, I can now confirm this rumor as truth. Though, there is, in fact, a lot of particularly cool shit here capable of elevating your dream life to the next level.
And to be quite honest, the same goes for Coachella. Trust me, I know what you’re thinking. “Ew. What a basic fecking betch!” But I’ll be the first to admit that the infinite sea of poor sweatshop fashion choices tickled my gag reflexes.
I watched a woman eat a bag of chips with a fork. I nearly had an aneurysm from the infinite selfie captures. The monstrosity of litter left behind actually made me weep.
People were entitled as fuck. Someone eloquently told my girlfriend they were “gonna fuck [her] up” if she didn’t “get the fuck out of the way.” Stay classy, Coachella!
This is the type of shit one would expect from attending such an event, perhaps the greatest gathering of trust funds the world has ever seen. Yet, despite the next level of fuckery, no ‘bos were thrown.
What did fuck me up in the best of ways, was the overwhelming amount of women and people of color speaking their truth like absolute royalty. It was a strange and beautiful thing to see such diversity in what seemingly was the epicenter of white privilege.
In these bizarre times, it seems the empire has fallen. Basic bitches were de-throned. Those once forced to the back of the bus are now forerunners of a movement of empowerment, making and changing history right before our eyes.
Leading this crusade is no other than the Queen Bee herself, Beyonce. Yes, I said it. Judge me, hipsters. But- if you saw what I saw that spectacular Saturday night, you wouldn’t dare.
The drumline, the twirling, the twerking… the stank faces! Few things excite me more than a beautiful woman unafraid to look ugly. My southern belle-self was transported back to Mardi Gras and football season and I have never been so proud to be from Louisiana. Who dat?! Bee dat!
In addition to being utterly mesmerized, an unsolved mystery was decoded this night. I now know the source of Hurricane Katrina to be undoubtedly rooted in Beyonce’s wild and whirling luscious locks. I have never seen anything like it! I was blown away, literally!
But more importantly, the testament to black magic and power was of a caliber I have also never had the privilege to bear witness to. The most creative and talented people, all born with less privilege than I, simply because of the color of their skin, were on the biggest stage with an astronomical audience, owning their power more than most… more than any.
One would likely not expect this from a stereotypical event such as Coachella. But the thing about stereotypes is they begin to lose their power when the world is found to be more complex than the stereotype would suggest. And that simply is the joy of life. Everything is a paradox. Even Coachella.
Remember that, the next time you choose to spew hate towards something you may not understand. Because rarely are things exactly as we may think. Tap into your inner queen and ask, what would Beyonce do?
As the Queendom rises and tears drip from my cheeks, I am ecstatic to be a woman amongst these potent times. It is our duty as women, as people, to share our truth and empower ourselves and others. In moments of self-doubt and negative talk, look yourself in the mirror and repeat, “I am the dragon breathing fire. Beautiful mane I’m the lion.” Now go, and release your roar! Don’t be afraid to get dirty, because “a little sweat ain’t never hurt nobody.”