Grown Woman, or How I Learned To Stop Worrying and Love Beyoncé
By: Tyler Francischine
Tags: Beyoncé, Reflections, Beyonce, Beyoncé Knowles, Personal Essay

After popping the CD into my boombox and cranking the volume, I’d lie on my back in my little twin bed, eyes wide open but mind drifting far, far away into fantasy.

With each song on 1999’s “The Writing’s On The Wall,” Beyoncé, Kelly and the other two ladies of Destiny’s Child laid the groundwork for what I imagined love would be like when I finally got a man. First, I’d have to give him shit for not paying his share of the expenses. Next, I’d have to give him shit for bothering me all the time. At some point, I’d contemplate leaving his ass and starting fresh with a new man. After meeting some ballers with full-grown pockets at the club, I’d convince him to stay with me by finally sleeping with him. As a sixth grader with her first real crush on a classmate, I considered this to be a crash course in what my future held.

Vying for that silver medal in Destiny’s Child

Though the education was questionable at best, one aspect of the experience was undeniable: when Beyoncé sang, I listened. Her voice inspired deep emotion in me, and I found myself lost in the recesses of my mind whenever I heard her music.

Absent during my high school and college years when I took a deep dive into white boy indie rock, my obsession with Beyoncé regained its hold over my psyche in my early and mid-twenties. This was the first time in my life that I put effort toward my health and fitness, finally gaining confidence in my physical appearance. I would jog around the neighborhood blasting anthems from 4, holding my shoulders down and back and experimenting with feeling like a woman. “Who run this mother? Girls!” I felt empowered; I was part of a special tribe. I began exclusively wearing dresses, no longer hiding my figure behind band T-shirts and saggy jeans. I felt fierce, just as my queen intended.

When her self-titled album dropped in 2013, my fixation on her music and the strong, sexy entity that is Yonce (or Peaches if you nasty) reached new highs. My love was cemented for the rest of my life, though, when she released Lemonade. I remember watching the HBO premiere of the visual album in my living room surrounded by girlfriends, each of us glancing around at each other and feeling like we were witnessing a piece of art that would stick with us, inexorably changing how we saw ourselves and relationships, forever.

While Beyoncé worked through the different emotions that arose from experiencing betrayal by the person closest to her, I committed to going on that journey with her each time I listened to Lemonade. I would go sit on a rooftop with a notebook and my iPod and cry my eyes out while occasionally jotting down thoughts about the issues: Does being in a relationship mean sacrificing individual needs and desires? How does trust rebuild itself after it’s shattered? How on god’s green earth could anyone cheat on Beyoncé?

Slay, Beychella 2018.

These days, her live double album Homecoming is my go-to playlist to feel in turns pumped up, shivery with goosebumps and just plain emotional. On days when I’m already bleary eyed, even her husky banter in between songs (“I see you,” “Let’s go get ‘em”) is enough to make me burst into tears in an expression of reverence and gratitude for her strength, resilience and pure talent.

It’s these deeply rooted feelings that inspired me to plan an annual celebration for her birthday in my town, Gainesville, Florida. For the past four Septembers, BEY DAY has banded together hundreds of people of various ages and backgrounds to dance to all Beyoncé all night long. During the second iteration of the event, I started the tradition of kicking the night off with a lip sync contest to give the audience a chance to take the stage and shine.

Advising the DJ to turn it down?! Unusual behavior. BEY DAY 2017. Photo by Ian Clontz.

The hard lessons I’ve learned while planning and executing these four events — from a DJ attempting to steal the event from me to simply realizing how much money I was wasting on interior decorating a dimly lit room — have convinced me of the passion I have for event curation. No matter the challenges that present themselves, my love for the work keeps me driven and inspired. I’ve planned a handful of live shows, too, but none have created the same level of community as BEY DAY, a sense that everyone is packed into the room for the same exact reason. I imagine attending a worship service might produce a similar feeling. Praise Beysus.

I’ve decided to retire BEY DAY after this year’s iteration on September 7 at The Atlantic. After all, Beyoncé wouldn’t approve of doing the same show too many times in a row. Paying homage to her favorite number 4 seemed appropriate as well. It’s bittersweet to close a chapter of life that produced so many joyful memories and impactful life lessons, but I’m sure that no matter where I am on September 4 in years to come, I’ll take some time to dance it out to “Shining” or “Before I Let Go” or maybe belt out “So Good,” which I’ve made a habit of doing since the year 2000. Some things never change.