May 2018 a cultural rhetorics publishing space Beyoncé’s …

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May 2018

constellations
a cultural rhetorics publishing space

Beyoncé’s Performance of Identification as a
Diamond: Reclaiming Bodies and Voices in
“Formation”

Mari E. Ramler

“A voice means this: there is a living person, throat, chest, feelings, who sends into
the air this voice, different from all other voices.”
Italo Calvino, “A King Listens”

“Bitch, I’m back.”
Messy Mya, “Booking the Hoes From New Wildin”

“FORMATION”—APPROPRIATION OR IDENTIFICATION?

Following the success of her 2016 Grammy Award-winning video “Formation,”
Beyoncé was accused of commodifying, appropriating, and outright stealing the
voice of New Orleans’ post-Katrina trauma. “Formation” set off an Internet dialogue
in which feminists and women of color expressed conflicting thoughts and
emotions over just what they thought they were seeing. In an open-letter article
“Dear Beyoncé, Katrina Is Not Your Story,” Maris Jones cites her own post-Katrina
trauma as a measure of critique for the pop star’s insensitivity to Katrina’s enduring
damage and victims: “Our trauma is not an accessory to put on when you decide to
openly claim your Louisiana heritage.” Jones, like many critics, locates Beyoncé as
an outsider, who “wasn’t there” to experience the devastation yet seems to be
capitalizing on it now. Jones’ position is clearly understood; Beyoncé atop a sinking
squad car in submerged New Orleans can easily be read as commodification, a
performance of victimhood for the sake of making money and expanding her brand.

Beyoncé’s Performance of Identification as a Diamond

constellations
a cultural rhetorics publishing space

Fig. 1
Popular New Orleans rapper Messy Mya

Shantrelle Lewis goes even further in her Slate article “‘Formation’ Exploits

New Orleans’ Trauma: Beyoncé’s blockbuster video isn’t advocacy. It’s
appropriation.” Specifically, Lewis finds troubling how Beyoncé’s samples the voice
of Messy Mya, a New Orleans YouTube celebrity and bounce rapper who was
murdered before “Formation” was produced. Commenting on the Messy Mya
samples, Lewis fumes: “This is not giving people voice. It is stealing.” With this
claim, Lewis is arguing in favor of a yet-unresolved $20 million lawsuit filed by the
estate of the late Anthony Barre, aka Messy Mya, against Beyoncé for
inappropriately sampling the murdered rapper’s voice (Andrews). However, before
these lawsuits and claims of theft can be resolved, we must ask what is the line
between sampling and commodification? What does Beyoncé sampling Messy Mya
mean within this context—did Beyoncé steal New Orleans’ symbolic and embodied
voice?

Regina N. Bradley offers an answer; she interprets Beyoncé’s “Formation” not
as commodification but as a “conjuring.” In her blog post, “Getting in Line: Working
Through Beyoncé’s ‘Formation,’” she asserts:

‘Formation’ is Texas style fatback and biscuits with country gravy, a dizzying
spell that pulls from multiple places and modes of the black southern
experience. Beyoncé took a familiar cultural marker of black southernness–
trauma–and flipped that bih (sic) into a working ideology to engage what it
means to be southern and black now.

In other words, Beyoncé creates a new unity using many different narratives,
bodies, and voices—which makes sense given how, among scenes of the church,
half-drowned buildings, and the weave shop, Beyoncé includes a plantation scene
with herself in a black dress standing front and center on the front porch. “Do you
know the significance of black folks and the front porch?” Bradley demands, “It’s a
communal space and a space of reclamation.” If Bradley’s assertion is correct, if the

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Beyoncé’s Performance of Identification as a Diamond

constellations
a cultural rhetorics publishing space

front porch is a “space of reclamation,” then we must also pose Bradley’s larger
question: “Who is Bey trying to reclaim?” Obvious answers include her cheating
husband Jay Z, her heritage as a Louisiana Creole, and the Black Southern
experience in divergent historical contexts. However, this expanding scope, moving
from the personal to the familial to the cultural, is not enough. I believe “Formation”
is even more inclusive than Beyoncé’s marital relationship, her familial heritage, and
her racial identity; it performs the work of reclaiming the dignity inherent in every
human body.

Although it might be obvious that Beyoncé’s “Formation” is a call to action

with contemporary activist themes and tropes, how this call functions is more
controversial. Some critics claim her sampling in “Formation” is appropriation, an
act of othering. What critics overlook though is the role that identification—not
appropriation—plays in the song’s and the music video’s argument. Indeed, in a blog
post entitled “The Fine Line Between ‘Identity’ and ‘Identification’: Debating
Appropriation in the Case of Dolezal,” Rob Peach writes, “[I]n contradistinction to
the act of appropriation as a form of ‘othering’ is that of ‘appropriation as
identification’ with the object of ‘othering’ (Sharma, 237).” Peach summarizes
Sharma’s differentiation when he writes, “appropriation signals solidarity with the
cultural practices of the other.” Thus, if we consider the role identification plays in
Beyoncé’s “Formation,” of her song and of herself, first, we see the flexibility
inherent in appropriation as identification. While talk of identification in Western
discourse might assume the metaphor of a flat mirror, precisely how Beyoncé’s
“Formation” enacts appropriation as identification is better understood through
another metaphor of identification—a multifaceted diamond that reflects and
refracts the light that passes through it. Fittingly, this metaphor is itself
appropriated from the Eastern religion known as non-dual Saivism, which both
affirms the reality of the world of difference (i.e., not monism) and also recognizes
the non-difference between Siva and Sakti and the corresponding non-difference
between them and creation (i.e., not dualism) (Roberts xxxiv-xxxv). By juxtaposing
the disenfranchised and disembodied voice of Messy Mya with numerous images of
her own body, her dancers’ bodies, and the bodies of two children, the diamond
metaphor illuminates how Beyoncé reclaims and (re)presents Messy Mya’s
irrepressible spirit, his earthly identity as a social justice-minded black man as well
as the eternal and universal expression of his humanity.

This article explores how Beyoncé’s “Formation” juxtaposes a lost voice with
images of female bodies to address the dilemma surrounding who gets to speak the
narrative of trauma. I maintain that the text presents two types of authentic
speakers. The first type speaks from a place of experiential pain, having occupied
the same historical period and geographical place where the trauma occurred. The
second type speaks from a place of existential pain—an ethical reach that re-
imagines what the trauma might have felt like. My goal then in this article is to
disrupt the binary of appropriation versus identification by applying Nitasha
Sharma’s concept of “appropriation as identification.” By applying Sharma’s term to
“Formation” and approaching the music video through a diamond metaphor, I

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Beyoncé’s Performance of Identification as a Diamond

constellations
a cultural rhetorics publishing space

illuminate Beyoncé’s body as redemption, her dancers’ bodies as reclamation, and
Blue’s Ivy’s dance as inheritance—artistic and ethical consequences of the video that
other critics have overlooked. Without the new perspective that this article
presents, Beyonce’s work appears to be nothing more—and to achieve nothing
more—than artistic larceny.

IDENTIFICATION AS APPROPRIATION

Rob Peach extends Nitasha Sharma’s research on identification as appropriationi in
his blog post (previously mentioned):

[A]ppropriation does not have to be a bad thing. It depends on how one
positions oneself in relation to those cultural formations with which one is
associating his or herself. There are ways to engage in the act of
appropriation constructively and with dignity, honor, knowledge, and
respect for the cultural other that is informed by an awareness of the
histories that have shaped the culture of the so-called other (Sharma, 271).
Appropriation as identification signals solidarity with the Other, which we see in
the way Beyoncé samples Messy Mya’s voice in “Formation.” While it might be hard
to witness her elaborate costumes and opulent substitutions, Beyoncé identifies
with Messy Mya (and New Orleans) in several significant ways. She samples three
Messy Mya direct quotes in “Formation”: “What happened at the New Orleans?”;
“Bitch, I’m back by popular demand”; and “Ooh yeah, baby, oh yeah I, oooh, oh, yes I
like that.” These samples prime us to see her identification with him in her racial
identity, her desire to share her side of the story, and her appeal to self as
authority. If we only hear Messy Mya’s biological voice, Beyoncé’s sampling is
appropriation. But if we can hear his embodied and transcendent voices, the
samples demonstrate appropriation as identification.

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Beyoncé’s Performance of Identification as a Diamond

constellations
a cultural rhetorics publishing space

Fig. 2
Video of “Formation” samples of Messy Mya’s voice

The video linked above features three examples of “Formation” footage with

Messy Mya voiceovers and then reveals the original footage of Messy Mya’s video
“Booking The Hoes From New Wildin.” Beyoncé retains his voice, but substitutes
other bodies to tell a similar story. In this viral YouTube video, published August 20,
2010, Messy Mya talks trash about two women in his hometown. His videographer,
Messy Roley, giggles as she captures Mya’s tirade about these “bitches”: he relates
his side of the story by detailing a public altercation he had with the two women he
describes as “bald” and “pick your hair, poodle.” He calls this story “what happened
at the New Wildins.” He rants, “Bitch. There’s always two sides to a story, and this is
my side. And bitch, I’m like six on your side. The hoes gonna believe Messy Mya
before they believe you. Follow me, camera.” In defending his reputation and
appealing to his celebrity and financial success as evidence of his superiority,
Messy Mya makes it easy for Beyoncé to identify with him. Indeed, she expresses a
similar defense and appeal when she resolves “Formation” with the lyric “Always
stay gracious; your revenge is your papers” (Beyoncé).

Messy Mya, and by extension New Orleans, speaks for Beyoncé. We can

understand Beyoncé’s identification with Messy Mya’s feelings of being publicly
misunderstood and wanting to share his side of the conflict with the “nappy haired
bitches” if we remember that two voices are always present when a person speaks.
There is the embodied voice, the physical sound that the vocal chords produce and
project out into the world. These vibrations register on a biological level. But there
is also the disembodied, transcendent voice, an emotional expression that the self
produces and projects out into the world. This second voice, the disembodied but
transcendent expression of self, is what Beyoncé identifies with and builds upon in

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Beyoncé’s Performance of Identification as a Diamond

constellations
a cultural rhetorics publishing space

forming her own side of the story “What happened at the New Orleans?” If we
understand Messy Mya’s voice to be only biological, then we must say that Beyoncé
appropriated it. But if we hear Messy Mya’s embodied and transcendent voices,
then it becomes clear that Beyoncé’s appropriation is identification. She identifies
with his desire to tell his side of the story on a personal level, and she identifies
with New Orleans’ side of the story on a historical level. Furthermore, when we talk
about appropriation as identification, we would do well to expand our Western
metaphor for reflection as a mirror to a multifaceted diamond.

IDENTIFICATION AS A DIAMOND

The American South in the time of Black Lives Matter and Donald Trump’s bid for
the US presidency was Michelle Voss Roberts’ reason for writing Body Parts: A
Theological Anthropology that “propose[s] alternative ways of thinking about—and a
spiritual practice of attending to—the multiplicity of ways of being human in the
image of God” (xix). Roberts provides a more inclusive understanding of the human
condition by introducing the non-dual Saiva model of the human in the Hindi
tradition as a new conversation partner to interrogate the Christian teaching of
imago Dei, a theological phrase that had, for centuries, privileged a male, rational,
and estranged-body definition. By placing imago Dei in conversation with non-dual
Saivism, Roberts expands the former’s meaning to include its inherent female,
irrational, and embodied connotations.

Non-dual Saivism uses the metaphor of a diamond to symbolize the divine in

humanity in five sets of categories: the conscious body, the limited body, the
subjective body, the engaged body, and the elemental body. Roberts’s comparative
project of including non-dual Saivism as a way to widen and open Christianity’s
teaching of imago Dei “expands the imago Dei from the single flat surface of a
mirror into a brilliant jewel, reflecting light from many facets” (xxxv-xxxvi). This
single light reflected from many facets symbolizes a central teaching of non-dual
Saivism: one consciousness in many forms. This diamond metaphor and one-in-
many model can be instructive as we similarly watch Beyoncé widen and open the
narrative of what it means to be a black body in the American South. Indeed, one
consciousness in many forms is exactly how Beyoncé reclaims Messy Mya’s voice.

SAMPLE ONE
“WHAT HAPPENED AT THE NEW ORLEANS?”: BEYONCÉ’S BODY AS PAST

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Beyoncé’s Performance of Identification as a Diamond

constellations
a cultural rhetorics publishing space

Fig. 3
Beyoncé squats on a police car in “Formation.”

Beyoncé’s music video “Formation” sparkles in its multifaceted historical
reimagining. The video opens with Messy Mya asking “What happened at the New
Orleans?,” his voice playing over the parental warning for explicit lyrics. Beyoncé
samples only his voice. We do not see his body. Instead, the first visible body in
“Formation” is Beyoncé, in a red dress, squatting on a half-submerged squad car.
The next scene jumps to a red and blue flashing grille and then red and blue truck
lights. We see a dancing male body, the back of a police jacket, and an empty street.
We never see footage of Messy Mya, aka Anthony Barre, who, at twenty-two years
old, was fatally shot Nov. 14, 2010, near the corner of St. Anthony and North
Rocheblave streets as he left a baby shower for the son he and his girlfriend were
expecting (McCarthy). I, however, see Beyoncé’s beautiful body in a red dress atop
the blue-striped police car as I hear Messy Mya’s voice, and I have to wonder about
this artistic choice. Messy Mya, gunned down after his unborn child’s shower, was
discovered in a pool of his own blood. A crowd had gathered, and the image of him
surrounded by arms and with a smart phone near his body was the way most
people discovered his death online (McCarthy).

In her NPR article “In Beyoncé’s ‘Formation,’ A Glorification Of ‘Bama’
Blackness,” Jesmyn Ward reads Beyoncé’s “Formation” as a song for the South: “She
sings to those of us who grew up black in the American South, who swam through
Hurricane Katrina, who watched the world sink, who starved for two weeks after
the eye passed, who left our dead floating in our houses.” Like Bradley, Ward
interprets Beyoncé’s vision as a reclamation of the South and in particular the
Southern black woman’s South. Ward’s analysis takes us through the music video’s

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Beyoncé’s Performance of Identification as a Diamond

constellations
a cultural rhetorics publishing space

scenes from plantation dresses and black hats to those with Blue Ivy, Beyoncé’s
young daughter, in a white sundress, dancing. If my previous claim is true that
Beyoncé reclaims Messy Mya’s blood with her symbolic red dress, if she substitutes
her body for his, then we can better understand what she will later intend with the
two children dancing in the music video.

For some critics, this substitution of bodies is unacceptable. In her article

“On ‘Jackson Five Nostrils,’ Creole vs. ‘Negro’ and Beefing Over Beyoncé’s
‘Formation,’” Yaba Blay explores the fallout within the Black community. She writes,
“Having grown up black-Black (read: dark-skinned) in colorstruck New Awlins,
hearing someone, particularly a woman, make a distinction between Creole and
‘Negro’ is deeply triggering.” She acknowledges her own personal issues with the
song based on her experiences as a Black woman growing up in the South and
encourages other critics of Beyoncé and “Formation” to recognize their own
experiential lenses:

A work as racially and emotionally charged as ‘Formation’ is bound to cause
tension. And because Beyoncé so often evokes something very personal, we
need to approach one another with more care and caution. After all, it is very
possible to enjoy the ‘Formation’ song and video and take issue with it at the
same damn time. Because we’re human. (Blay)

Again, the beauty of the diamond metaphor allows us to take a both…and position as
opposed to an either…or. A diamond, in its multiple planes, can reflect them all.

Bradley, on the other hand, sees Beyoncé in this watery place not as a
substitution but a catalyst. “Trauma,” she argues, “is the springboard of southern
blackness. But its foundation is resilience and creativity.” She interprets the visual
of Beyoncé sinking as a baptism, a rebirth. Regarding the singer herself, Bradley
identifies Beyoncé as the southern black woman pleasure principle, “a vulgar female
spirit that loves hot pepper and embodies both sex and death.” Bradley understands
conjuring blackness as “physical, conceptual, and spiritual. All three are necessary
to make protest and resurrection possible.” If Bradley’s vision of “Formation” is
plausible, then we must ask what happens to each critic’s story of New Orleans if
they are all equally as true as Beyoncé’s conjured one? Is there a way to both see
and not-see? Can Beyoncé teach us not only that a multitude of New Orleans
narratives are true, but also that each can exist together? Our diamond metaphor is
particularly productive, again. In this case, appropriation is not only a springboard,
but also identification itself. By using Messy Mya’s voice to introduce her first
appearance in the music video, Beyoncé offers a form—her own—to his still-
resonant voice. If we hear Messy Mya’s voice as a consciousness that emerges in
many divergent and embodied forms, then we can view Beyoncé’s body as one
plane of a multi-faceted diamond. We see Beyoncé’s body, but hear Messy Mya’s
spirit.

SAMPLE TWO
“BITCH, I’M BACK BY POPULAR DEMAND”: DANCERS’ BODIES AS PRESENT

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