This weekend I saw The Queen (Beyonce) and it was glorious.
If you follow me on Insta you saw some videos. I had a pretty good seat, especially for what they call “Bey Stage.” I’ve never felt more encouraged to get in shape, install some large mirrors and practice dance moves. Her body is delicious looking.
I attended the concert with some girls. I planned on being out of town and the concert sold out quickly. So, I didn’t think I’d get to go but I found my single ticket on Craigslist for less than face. I told myself that I travel and do things alone frequently so this was no big deal. However, I did feel insecure.
First, I almost hit Martina McBride. I could not find my section (turns out it was the only one without a sign) and was frustrated. So, I raised my hand and turned at the same time. I came close to whacking a woman in the ear as I turned. I began to apologize and she walked off. I thought “That’s weird. I didn’t mean to. Ooooh wait. That was Martina McBride.”
Second, I was smack in the middle of several large groups and couples that were not ashamed of PDA. So, I felt left out or skeezey – depending on who I was glancing at.
Then, I found out about the Trayvon Martin case. I got the text and began to cry. This made me the girl who was all alone and crying. (aka: The Freak) Nobody said anything to me and I quickly got my shit together. I exchanged texts with a couple friends.
I loved the concert and tried to live in it but also wanted to talk to The Mister and go hug some people. Bey (we’re close friends now) did have a moment of silence, sang “I Will Always Love You” and followed it by “Halo.” I talked with The Mister till early morning hours about the case. Then, went to bed and prayed for Beyonce’s feet (they had to be sore) and Trayvone’s family.
Unfortunately, this is especially true if you’re a young black man in a hoodie.