Dissect - S6E10 - Freedom by Beyoncé

Episode Date: June 23, 2020

We continue our serialized analysis of Beyoncé’s Lemonade by dissecting its tenth chapter “Hope,” which features the song “Freedom.” Beyoncé gathers her sisterhood at a former slave plantation to deliver an empowering message of hope and transcendence over oppressive forces. A visual guide for this episode can be found at dissectpodcast.com. Follow us on social media @dissectpodcast. S6 merch can be purchased at shop.dissectpodcast.com. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit podcastchoices.com/adchoices

From Spotify Studios, this is Dissect, long-form musical analysis broken into short digestible episodes. I'm Cole Kushna. And I'm Titi Shodia. Today we continue our serialized analysis of Lemonade by Beyonce. On our last episode, we dissected the chapter Resurrection, which included the song Forward. There we witnessed the mothers of the movement displaying the wounds they've endured from losing their sons to racial violence. Though their pain cannot be erased, they created a way out of no way. and resurrected their sons by using their life and memory as a catalyst for social change.

In the words of Eric Gardner's mother, Gwen Carr, they transformed their mourning into movement and pain into purpose. It's with this shared sense of purpose that Beyonce will gather her own community of women together in the album's next chapter, the subject of her episode today, Hope. The last image we saw in Lemonade's previous chapter was the Mardi Gras Indian circling an empty dining room table. She shakes a tambourine over the table to heal the space. We then cut to a black and white image of Beyonce and a group of black women inside a Jim Crow-era school bus. This is the same bus scene in Sari, and the women are painted in the same Yoraba-inspired body art.

They all look straight into the camera, straight into our eyes. It's at this moment we hear... Magic. The word magic heard over the image of the stoic black women is undoubtedly nodding to the idea of Black Girl Magic. Black Girl Magic was a phrase created by Kashon Thompson in 2013. There's no formal definition for Black Girl Magic, but Thompson says she's inspired by Black women that are able to persevere despite adversity. She uses the word magic deliberately because, quote, it's something that people don't always understand. Sometimes our accomplishments

might seem to come out of thin air, because a lot of times, the only people supporting us are other black women. Since then, hashtag Black Girl Magic has expanded to include black women embracing all of the attributes that make us who we are, individually and collectively. Every shade of black, every hair texture, every accent, every body type. From black women excelling in their respective fields like Michelle Obama, Felicia Rashad, Simone Biles, and Beyonce herself, to everyday black women starting new businesses, embracing their curves, taking leaps of faith, doing a big chop, healing after tragedies, or being unapologetically black. These are all showings of the magic of black girls and women. With the struggles, discrimination, and racism that we

in the generations before us have endured for hundreds of years, every step we take, every breath we breathe, every smile, every laugh, every tear. Our very existence is magic. Using this phrase has become the battle cry of a generation of black women that are creating space for themselves and other black women around them. We are no longer waiting for a seat at the table. We're taking it. And if there isn't a table, we build one. Black Girl Magic is a way for us to say, I see you shine and sis. It's a promise to ourselves that we'll never dim our light to be more digestible to society. We'll keep shining bright and let them go blind because excellence is a form of resistance. Directly, I'll after the word magic, we hear the opening moments of Hope's subject song, Freedom.

Freedom was written by Jonathan Coffer, Beyonce, Carla Williams, Arrow Benjamin, Kendrick Lamar, and Frank Tarado. It was produced by Johnny Coffer, Beyonce, and Jess Blaze. The song's foundation is built on a sample of an obscure Puerto Rican psych band named Collidoscope. Portions of this kaleidoscope track Let Me Try from 1969 are sampled and looped in Freedom. But perhaps the most interesting thing about Freedom's production is the inclusion of two samples from the field recordings of Alan Lomax. Lomax was an ethnomusicologist and folklorist who's best known for his field recordings of 20th century folk music.

This included early recordings of pioneering blues musicians like Leadbelly and everyday black Americans living under Jim Crow segregation in the Deep South. The first Lomax sample used in Freedom is a 1959 recording of Reverend R.C. Crenshaw, preaching to a black congregation in Memphis, Tennessee. You can hear modified clips of this recording throughout Freedom's Hook. The second Lomax sample used in Freedom is a recording of a so-called chain gang at the Mississippi State Penitentiary in 1947. The Mississippi State Penitentiary is a maximum security prison with a troubled history.

Built in 1903 by mostly black inmates, the prison was originally known as parchment farm, as it was built on the former parchment cotton plantation. By law, the prison was required to pay for itself and even make a profit for the state. Thanks to the 13th Amendment which abolished slavery and involuntary servitude except as a punishment for crime, the majority black inmates were forced to work the cotton fields. The penitentiary garnered a reputation of being one of the toughest, prisons in the United States, an inspired former inmate Book of White's Parkment Farm Blues. In the 1960s, the Mississippi State Penitentiary held hundreds of activists and freedom

writers in the civil rights movement. Even today, the prison continues its controversial reputation. As recent as January of 2020, eight prisoners died in non-natural circumstances in the span of just 22 days. Inmates also claim that staff shortages and rampant violence. violence have led to some prisoners to insert their own catheters, treat their own stab wounds, and suffer through seizures without medication. In February of 2020, JZ and rapper Yogadi filed a federal lawsuit on behalf of over 150 inmates of the prison. And it's from this controversial penitentiary that Alan Lomax recorded prisoner Benny Will Richardson leading a work chant, a tradition that can be traced back to West Africa. A looped portion of this recording can be heard in freedom's

verse. And that is, uh-huh, don't you wish you, a hug was there, word. And so before we even hear a word of lyrics, freedom has already established itself as steeped in America's history of racism and the black community's centuries-long fight for freedom and equality. When Beyonce begins singing over this complex musical fabric, she becomes the connecting piece that links this past with the present moment. She fights for her. She fights for her. own freedom and equality, but also for the Black mothers featured in Forward, the Black women that have accompanied her throughout Lemonade, and for all those in the Black community affected by the ongoing effects of America's history of slavery and racism.

This interconnectivity of past, present, and future, a theme established in the opening moments of Lemonade, really comes to the forefront here in the chapter Hope. With this in mind, return to the visuals that accompany these opening moments of freedom. Now in black and white, we enter the bedroom of a plantation big house. The camera pushes forward into the room as if we, the viewers, are walking into the room ourselves. As we approach the bed, we discover a black baby lying there sucking her thumb. The baby then looks directly into the camera, directly at us. This child is the stakes.

She is the future occupying a space of the past in the present moment. As Hope continues, the music of freedom becomes. muffled, and we cut to an exterior shot of Fort McComb, the Civil War relic and a symbol of the African slave castles first introduced in the opening moments of lemonade. The muffled music gives the effect that the sound is actually coming from inside Fort McComb, as if the key to her freedom is somehow symbolically found within its towering, decaying brick walls. Remember, when we first saw Fort McComb, Beyonce was timidly walking around the head-high weeds that surround it. Her hair was covered by a black hoodie, and she had saddened tears in her eyes.

She wasn't yet ready to confront her partner, confront history, confront the curse. Now here in Hope, Beyonce returns to Fort McComb, dressed in a colorful antebellum-style dress. Just like we entered the room with the baby in bed, we, the viewing audience, follow behind Beyonce as she enters Fort McComb. This is a pivotal moment of the film. She's quite literally confronting history, confronting the curse. It's another convergence of the past, present, and future, as we know Beyoncé's breaking the curse by confronting the past and the present moment has generational effects for her children, the future.

To drive this point home even further, we cut to another scene and the camera pushes forward in the same manner as the previous two scenes. This time, we enter a small slave cabin occupied by the same black women that have accompanied Beyonce throughout the film. Like Fort McComb, we saw the slave quarters set up. at the opening of the film. And like Beyonce, the women featured in that scene seemed despondent and paralyzed.

Now in Hope, the women occupy the tiny cabin with beauty, color, and feminine grace as they prepare freshly harvested fruit and vegetables together. This scene gives the impression of solidarity and a self-sustaining community as the women nourish themselves and care for each other. It's at this moment that the chapter title, Hope, is formally introduced on screen,

and Beyonce begins to recite the point. poem Nail Technician as Palm Reader by Worsonshire. The nail technician pushes my cuticles back, turns my hand over, stretches the skin on my palm, and says, I see your daughters and their daughters. That night in a dream. The poem's surrealist nature finds Beyoncé getting her palm read by a nail technician. She tells Beyonce, I see your daughters and their daughter. In essence, she sees Beyonce's future, and in that future, she sees bountiful and feminine fertility.

Knowing that the struggle of infertility has been a silent but looming presence throughout lemonade, this moment signifies that the curse of infertility has been broken. We recall what Beyonce said about her twin children born in 2017, quote, I come from a lineage of broken male-female relationships, abuse of power and mistrust. Only when I saw that clearly was I able to resolve those conflicts in my own relationship. I now believe it's why God blessed me with my twins. Male and female energy was able to coexist and grow in my blood for the first time. I pray that I am able to break the generational curses in my family

and that my children will have less complicated lives, unquote. Alongside this personal testimony, the visuals of black women we see during this poem add an additional layer to the idea of daughters. As a black female herself, Beyonce's daughters are also the generations of the black females that come after her. These young women look to Beyonce and others from their generation for guidance. And so in the same way that Beyonce hopes her blood children have less complicated lives as a result of her journey, we can assume the same can be said about the entire sisterhood we see highlighted throughout Lemonade. And their daughters.

That night in a dream, the first girl emerges from a slit in my stomach. The scar heals into a smile. The man I love pulls the stitches out with his fingernails. We leave black searches curling on the side of the bath. I wake as the second girl crawls head first up my throat. A flower out of the whole. The surrealist imagery continues as Beyonce dreams of giving birth from a slit in her stomach, referencing a cesarean or C-section birth.

She references the scar on her abdomen as the result of this birth, saying, The scar heals into a smile. Scars have symbolic value of the remnants of pain or sacrifice, and the C-section scar is a sacrifice that is wholly joyful for Beyonce, a permanent smile on her abdomen. Her struggles with, infertility and miscarriage, culminate with a symbol of pain from the past and joy going forward. Beyoncé then continues saying,

The man I love pulls the stitches out with his fingernails. We leave black sutures curling on the side of the bath. Beyonce's husband here is an essential part of her healing process. The black sutures, evidence of the raw pain of the past, specifically black pain, is discarded and left behind. The past remains the past, and all that is left today, is the smiling scar, the hardened tissue, like the relationship, now stronger than the skin that came before it. At the end of the poem, it's revealed that Beyonce is in fact giving birth to twins.

She says, I wake as the second girl crawls head first at my throat, a flower blossoming out of the hole in my face. Symbolic of hope and beauty, flowers emerge from dirt, from mud. Like the smiling scar, the hope and beauty of her daughters, of black sisterhood, prevail with delicacy and grace despite the harsh conditions that birth them. Throughout the majority of this poem, we see on screen Beyonce searching the interior spaces of Fort McComb. During the line about her cesarean scar, Beyonce finds inside Fort McComb a shirtless black woman with a bald head. This is Paulette Leaphart, a breast cancer survivor. Paulette lives in New Orleans and had both of her breasts removed in a double mastectomy.

She then said God instructed her to walk up. a thousand miles shirtless to bring awareness to the exorbitant cost of cancer treatment. Paulette's presence in lemonade seems to be a symbol of survival. A woman who is quite literally scarred, but lives on stronger because of her hardship, someone who attempts to transform her scars from something to be hidden to something that can be celebrated, bruised and beautiful. Lemonade from lemons. As Beyonce describes birthing the second child, we follow behind her as she continues to walk through the dark,

interior of Fort McComb. When she says the line, blossoming from a hole in my face, she looks up to a rectangular opening in the fort's ceiling. Hope in the form of light pours in from the hole. There is a way out. There is a light at the end of the tunnel. There is an escape from the curse and freedom to be found. Having confronted history and the curse thereof, we leave Fort McComb and find ourselves back at the Destrehan Sugar Plantation in Louisiana. We see See a small outdoor theater stage and the black women we've seen throughout the film are seated in front of the stage, waiting for a performance. Dressed in a simple white gown, Beyonce takes the stage. Why has Beyonce gathered these women here and what is the message she will sing for them?

That's right after the break. Welcome back to dissect. Before the break, we followed Beyonce as she symbolically entered Fort McComb and confronted the curse. She found hope of escape through a hole in the ceiling, an image that parallels the spoken poetry's description of birth. Thus, Beyonce herself becomes the flower emerging from out Fort McComb, emerging from the stranglehold of the curse and toward life, hope, and freedom. It's with this message in mind that we turn to the outdoor theater stage setting on the grounds of the sugar plantation in Louisiana. The black women who we've seen most recently preparing food sit on chairs in front of the stage. Among this group are the black mothers we saw in Ford holding portraits of their murdered sons.

With the gravity of the moment palpable, Beyonce takes the stage and begins to sing. Trying to rain, trying to rain on the thunder, tell the storm I'm new. I'm a walk, I'm a march on the regular painting white, flags blue. Love, forgive me, I've been running, running blinding truth. I'm a rain, I'm a rain on this bit of love Tell the sweet I'm new Ooh I'm telling these tears go and fall away

Oh May the last one burn into flames In the same way Beyonce confronted Fort McComb Freedom begins with Beyonce confronting a storm She sings Trying to rain on the thunder Tell the storm I'm new This continues the water theme that runs throughout Lemonade.

We've seen and heard water represent destruction, such as the floods of anger, and be a source of life and renewal, such as the baptismal waters of Reformation. Here in Freedom, we assume the storm and rain Beyoncé confronts, represents the cloud or the curse that loomed over her life and the lives of the black women she performs for. She compares herself to thunder, a sound or voice so loud, it booms and echoes despite the harsh conditions, that surround it. Now restored, Beyonce is no longer willing to sit passive on the sidelines. She is here to lead, here to fight. She continues singing, I'm a walk, I'm a march on the regular, painting white flags blue. Both walking and marching conjure images of protest marches, be it the

women's march of 2017, or the various marches of the civil rights movement. It's in this spirit that Beyonce refuses to surrender. Instead of waving a white flag of resignation, she paints them blue, which is traditionally symbolic of trust, peace, order, and loyalty. Beyonce continues, Lord, forgive me, I've been running blind and truth. We think first of Lemonade's opening chapter intuition, where Beyonce was willing to hide from the truth about her marriage and about her place in white patriarchal society. After her emotional journey and confrontation of the curse, she can no longer run blind in truth. Her eyes are open now. and she will no longer be silenced.

Beyoncé then returns to another water metaphor, singing, I'm a rain on this bitter love, tell the sweet I'm new. There's a play here on bitter sweet, as Beyonce plans to harness the cleansing power of water to wash away the bitterness from her marriage, leaving only the sweetness.

We also recognize that the verse began with Beyonce confronting a storm, and now here by the verse's end, she is the storm. This is reminiscent of her transformation and denial, where she began submerged under water, drowning, but ultimately emerged as the goddess of water, Oshun, and wielded water as a show of her strength. The arc of this verse also encapsulates her journey throughout lemonade more generally, as she's moved from a reactive, submissive position

to a proactive, authoritative position. The song's brief pre-chorus finds Beyonce singing, I'm telling these tears, go and fall away, may the last one burn into flames. Beyonce allows her tears to fall, allows herself to feel and express pain. This was something she was unwilling to do in both anger and apathy. Beyonce's masculine stoicism is replaced with emotion and authenticity. She has come to understand that while not deserve nor ideal, pain can be confronted and transformed into flames. It can spark a movement. It can become a powerful catalyst for action and change.

And it's this message of transformation that gives way to the song's hook. May the last one burn into flames. Freedom, freedom I can't move. Freedom caught me loose. I'm going to keep running because a winner don't quit on themselves. In the film version of Lemonade, Beyonce's Acapella performance gives way to the fully produced album version. The obvious cinematic move here would be to transition from Beyonce singing alone, on the small outdoor stage to something with more action and scale,

something that matches the song's sudden shift in dynamics. But that's not what happens. Instead, the shot doesn't change. It remains Beyonce alone on stage performing for the black women at the plantation. The juxtaposition this creates is incredibly impactful. Beyonce alone is wielding this power. While she may be just one woman, her voice, her will, her message is movement all in its own. She can, as she says on the hook, break chains all by herself, and fight for the freedom she deserves.

And this applies not only to Beyonce, but to all those seated watching her perform and all those like them around the world. Despite whatever pain or mistreatment we may have experienced, inside each of us is magic, a voice so loud that it can echo and resound louder than any noise around us. And this seems to be the message Beyonce wishes to convey to the women. she's gathered here at the plantation. It's a rally cry for empowerment and solidarity. It's an offering of hope for those in dark times.

Whatever curses you may have inherited, they can be broken. You can be freed. During this post-course instrumental, another woman takes the outdoor plantation stage and performs a ballet dance for the women gathered there. This is Michaela de Prince. who we actually saw included in the montage of black women holding portraits of family members and forward.

The significance of Michaela taking the stage after Beyonce is only fully appreciated when we know Michaela's story. Michaela de Prince was born Mabinti Bangorua in Sierra Leone in 1995. At this time, Sierra Leone was in the midst of a brutal civil war that lasted 11 years and left over 50,000 people dead. Among those killed were both of Michaela's parents. Her father was murdered by rebels, and her mother died of illness and starvation. Before their deaths, Michaela's parents knew she was different. Michaela was born with Vidaligo, a skin condition that causes spotting due to pigmentation loss in the skin. In Sierra Leone, having this skin condition was deemed a curse from the devil.

To ensure a prosperous life for their cursed daughter, Michaela's parents made sure that she was on a path focused on education. After their deaths, Michaela was under the supervision of her uncle. He knew that because of her skin condition, this curse, that he would not be able to get a significant bride price. A bride price is gifts and money given by a groom based on a bride's perceived worth. Knowing that Michaela's bride price would be low, her uncle took her to an orphanage. All 27 children at the orphanage were ranked in order, from most favorite to least. The child in the number one position received the most food, the first choice of clothes, and was treated the best. Child number 27 was given little to no food and clothes and was treated the worst.

Michaela was number 27, starved, without clothes, neglected, and referred to as the devil child because of her skin. She was told often that she would never be adopted. Cursed. One day, a 1979 issue of Dance Magazine found its way to the orphanage and changed Michaela's life. And one day, the big wind threw a magazine right onto the gate at the orphanage. I reached out and I grabbed it. This amazing creature, this person I've never seen before, she was on her tippy toes and in this beautiful pink costume. But what really struck me the most was the fact that she looked so happy and been happy in a long time. So I thought to myself, you know, if she's happy because this is what she's doing, then maybe I could be happy to

someday. I had to be this person I just had to be in order to become something. From this moment, Michaela's passion and desire to become a ballerina was born. Despite the odds, number 27 was adopted by an American family. After moving to America, Michaela dove head first into her dream, and by age 10, she was practicing ballet five days a week. By age 17, Michaela was performing at the dance theater of Harlem in New York City and was the youngest in the company. The following year, she was hired by the Dutch National Ballet in Amsterdam and was at the time the only dancer of African origin. Michaela is also a Goodwill Ambassador for War Child, an organization that works to improve the well-being of children living with violence and armed conflict.

Michaela was quite literally considered a curse, but due to her strength, determination, talent, and perseverance, she was able to defy the odds and break the curse she inherited. This beautifully mirrors Beyonce's thesis of Lemonade, that the generational effects of slavery, our curse, can not only be broken, but made into something revered because of the journey. There can be beauty in the struggle, or rather beauty, because of it. The outdoor plantation stage Michaela now dances on in Lemonade is thus transformed into a theater of triumph, a place to celebrate freedom from bondage, and a showcase of the art, beauty, talent, and grace of black girl magic.

Verse 2 mirrors the first verse in both structure and theme. Beyonce begins, I'm a wade, I'm a wave through the waters, tell the tide don't move. Given the song's subject matter and samples, it's very likely this line is meant to evoke the spiritual, Wade in the Water. Wade in the water is what's known as an African-American spiritual.

These spirituals were composed and sung by enslaved Africans, passed down orally from generation to generation. Their lyrics typically centered on the hardships of slavery while imparting Christian values. According to African American hymnologist Melva Costin, quote, African American spirituals are considered the first distinctive music genre of African people in the American diaspora, unquote. On its surface, Wade in the Water is based on the biblical story of Moses and the Israelites escaping slavery in Egypt. The spirituals refrain, Wade in the Water, God's going to trouble the water. speaks about the healing power of water and seems inspired by the biblical passage John 5.4,

quote, For an angel went down at a certain season into the pool and troubled the water. Whosoever then first after troubling of the water stepped in, was made whole of whatsoever disease he had, unquote. But Wade in the Water is one of the better known spirituals, not because of its biblical references, but more so because of its association with the Underground Railroad. The Underground Railroad was a network of secret roots and safe houses used by enslaved Africans to escape into free states and Canada. It was during this time that the enslaved used spirituals encoded with secret messages to discreetly communicate information, directions, or travel tips. It's said that Harriet Tubman, whose nickname was Moses, frequently sung, weighed in the water, as a way to communicate using bodies of water to throw off bloodhounds hunting escapees using their scent.

It was also understood that the Jordan River, referenced in Wade in the Water, was code for the Ohio River, which served as a natural border between free and slave states. And so these waters quite literally were healing waters, as reaching the river meant you were on your way to freedom. The healing power of water, the resilience of the enslaved, the ingenuity of the Underground Railroad, Harriet Tubman as a black female symbol of freedom, all of these things fit perfectly into the thematic framework of freedom, and lemonade more generally. Wade in the water also provides us with another layer of significance in Beyonce performing freedom, acapella in the film. She is evoking the oral tradition of spirituals, which were sung alone or with a group, but never with instrumental accompaniment. Beyonce carries this spirit of the past into the present as she evokes the oral traditions of her ancestors. And through her song, she gives this sisterhood gathered at the plantation

valuable information about how to overcome their pain and move forward into freedom. During the second verse, we see a few visuals of significance. The first is of Winnie Harlow, a Jamaican-Canadian model. Like Michaela de Prince, Winnie was born with Vidaligo. Her face and body contain large patches of light skin, which sharply contrast her dark skin. Winnie appears in freedom wearing a long white gown

and a gold crown of thorns on her head. She appears in this gown and crown precisely when we hear the line, blind in truth. Given her costuming in this line, it seems that Winnie is supposed to evoke the Statue of Liberty. Additionally, the Crown of Thorns also alludes to Jesus Christ, who was forced to wear a crown of thorns as a way to mock and torment him. Symbolically, it said the Crown of Thorns represent the suffering Jesus endured for all our sake. When we consider these possibilities, we might speculate Winnie's. Harlow, a black female model who defies beauty norms, is a beacon of hope for future generations of black women burdened with the legacy of colorism and Eurocentric beauty standards in America.

Like Michaela the Prince, Harlow is yet another example of how inherited curses can be transformed. The second recurring image we see during the second verse is a depiction of a large dinner feast. Still on the outside grounds of the Destrahan Sugar Plantation, the same black women watching Beyonce perform are now seated at an extremely long table together. The table is covered with the food we saw the women prepare inside the slave quarters at the beginning of the chapter. Again, these women are a self-sustaining community. They care and nourish each other. They laugh, they talk, they sing. They men wounds and heal together. They are a collective spirit gathered here, in a place of the past, to honor their ancestors and to celebrate the freedom from the curse,

as they move into the future. After a repetition of the song's hook, Kendrick Lamar enters Freedom as one of the few prominent features on Lemonade. If you have listened to Season 1 or Season 5 of this podcast, which cover Lamar's albums to Pimp a Butterfly and Dam, respectively, you're well aware of why he's a perfect feature here on Freedom. Specifically in 2016, at the time of Lemonade's release,

Kendrick was about a year removed from the release of Topipa Butterfly, a socially conscious album that finds Kenner, Patrick speaking directly to his community in places like Compton, California. He offers a blueprint for escaping unjust circumstances and finding personal freedom despite living in a harsh environment. The refrain from this song All Right became the adopted anthem of Black Lives Matter and could be heard chanted by protesters across America. Much like freedom, All right expresses both hope and defiance and celebrates their

resilience of the black spirit in the face of the perpetual injustice they endure. And it's in this spirit that Kendrick delivers a powerful verse on freedom. Ten hell marries, I meditate for practice. Chat on our news tell me I'm moving back with you. Eight blacks left, deaf is around the corner. Seven misleaders statements by my persona. Six headlights waving in my direction. Five-o-axing me.

What's at my possession? The beginning of Kendrick's verse is structured around a ten to one countdown. He begins, Ten Hail Mary's, I meditate for practice. This seems to reference the Catholic tradition of the rosary, a recitation of a set of specific verses. The prayers that compose the rosary are arranged in sets of Ten Hail Marys, called Decades. Hence Kendrick's line, Ten Hail Marys. The overall objective of the rosary is to meditate on the life of Jesus Christ, hence Kendrick's line, I meditate for practice.

given that the remainder of the verse focuses on systemic injustice, it would appear that Kendrick's faith grounds him as he prepares to face these external conflicts. But we also recognize Kendrick here specifically cites a ritual that emphasizes the feminine mother Mary, perhaps an allusion to Beyonce herself and an acknowledgement of the feminine participation in the divine. Kendrick continues, Channel 9 News Tell Me I'm Moving Backwards. This line targets the conservative TV station Fox News. Specifically, it likely references Fox News host Haraldo Rivera, who publicly criticized Lamar's performance of All Right at the 2015 BET Awards. Harald, not helpful with those song lyrics. To say the least, not helpful at all.

This is why I say that hip-hop has done more damage to young African-Americans than racism in recent years. This is exactly the wrong message. And then to conflate what happened in the church in Charleston, South Carolina with these tragic incidents involving excessive force of use of force by cops, is to equate that racist killer with these cops, it is so wrong, it is so counterproductive, it gives exactly the wrong message. It doesn't recognize. Knowing this context, Kendrick's saying, moving backwards, cites Rivera's belief that his social efforts are damaging to African Americans. but we also recognize moving backwards as a sly acknowledgement of the backwards countdown structure of the current verse. This countdown continues, eight blocks left, death is around the corner.

The specific reference to eight blocks evokes section eight low-income housing projects. Thus, the full line seems to be painting a portrait of life in the streets of communities like Compton, where both gang and police violence had Kendrick perpetually fearing for his life at a young age. Given Kendrick's strong spiritual connection to rapper Tupac Shakur, the line, Death is Around the Corner, is likely a nod to Tupac's song, Death Around the Corner. In this song, Tupac speaks on the dangers of street life,

the adaptation that's required to survive, and finding freedom from anxiety through vices like drugs and sex. Kendrick continues his countdown verse, seven misleading statements about my persona, an elaboration on the Fox News commentary, and likely a general statement about the media's slanderous perception of black people. Kendrick then refers to the six strobing blue and red lights of police vehicles saying, six headlights waving in my direction.

He then plays on the slang phrase for police, 5-0, rapping, 5-0 asking me what's in my possession. This evokes racial profiling and the stereotype that all black men are criminals, further painting a portrait of life for modern black Americans. Now, after this line, we notice, that Kendrick doesn't continue the countdown lyrical structure he began the verse with. Knowing in my direction Knowing that counten

Knowing that count downs typically end at zero And that Kendrick is a rapper known for his attention to detail We're left wondering why he would choose to stop his countdown after reaching five As far as I can tell, there's two possibilities. The first is contained in the line we just read, 5O asking what's in my possession. 5-0 could be read as 5-0, where the dash to zero indicates the completion of the countdown.

Given that the line depicts a confrontation between a black male and a police officer, we might wonder if this 5 to 0 comments on how young black males can have their lives, their countdown, so to speak, cut short during a random, racially charged police stop. It calls the mind the deaths of Michael Brown and others who were top of mind during Black Lives Matter. However, there is a second possibility, which is that Kendrick doesn't actually stop his countdown. Rather, he just slyly shifts it to a syllabic countdown. Recall that each number in the count started each line in the verse,

10 Hell Marys, Channel 9, 8 blocks left, 7 misleading statements, 6 headlights, and 5-0. Now we look at the next line in the verse, I Keep Running, which is four syllables, I keep running. The next line starts with the phrase, fire hydrants, which is also four syllables. The next phrase, and hazardous, also four syllables. Even the next line breaks down into two four-syllable phrases. Smoke alarms on, four syllables, the back of us, four syllables. Next we shift to a slew of phrases with the same basic three-syllable structure. Ride for me, try for me, live for me, breathe for me, sing for me, and so on. When Kendrick finally moves away from this three-syllable phrase structure,

he begins each line with a two-syllable word, open, open correctional gates in higher desert, open our minds as we cast away oppression, open the streets and watch our beliefs. Finally, the very last line, I pray it for, forever reads, begins with the one syllable word, I, thus completing the countdown from 10 to 1. The first five in the count state the number outright, while the final five use a syllabic countdown instead. And there's actually one last thing I can't help but to point out, though I'll let you decide if it's reaching or not. In Kendrick's final line, I pray it forever reads. He actually doesn't finish the sentence. Instead, it's intended to transition directly

into the song's hook, whereby Beyonce singing Freedom completes his thought, as in, when they carve my name inside the concrete, I pray it forever reads Freedom. We could interpret Kendrick not actually saying the final word as the number zero, making it a true 10 to 1 countdown. Now, having a better understanding of the verse's structure, let's go ahead and dissect its content. Kendrick for me, ride for me, drive for me, live for me, breathe for me, honestly got in me, I can be more than I got to be stowed from me, nation hypocrisy code on me, driving me wicked, my spirit inspired me like, yeah.

Kendrick wraps, I keep running, jump in the aqueducts. Given the evocations to Compton throughout the verse, this likely alludes to the Los Angeles aqueducts in Southern California. Much like freedom being found in the Ohio River, Kendrick mentions running from the police, or perhaps from racial oppression more generally, and finding freedom through the city's water canals, a kind of modern-day Ohio River. Kendrick then creates an impressionistic image of protests,

rapping, fire hydrants and hazardous, smoke alarms on the back of us. This calls to mind the various photographs and archival videos of the civil rights era, where black protesters were sprayed with water hoses and smoke bombs were used as a means to disperse crowds. Next, Kendrick raps, but Mama don't cry for it.

for me, ride for me. Like the tears, Beyonce turns into flames of action, Kendrick does not want your pity. He wants allies, an army of men and women who use the oppression they face as motivation to make change and fight for freedom. ...in spite me like, yeah, open correctional gates in high desert. Open our minds we cast away oppression. Open the streets and watch our beliefs and when they carved my name inside the concrete, I pray it for every. Freedom, freedom. Later, Kendrick makes specific calls. calls for freedom saying, open correctional gates in higher desert. This might specifically reference the high desert state prison in California or to the fact that prisons are often built in deserted

areas. Either way, it appears that Kendrick is exposing the disproportionate incarceration rate of black Americans and calling for the release of those in prison unjustly. Kendrick then calls people to open their minds as they cast away oppression. This could apply to both the oppressors and the oppressed. For the oppressors, specifically those with racial motivations, opening their minds to the thoughts and feelings of people who don't look like them seems key in casting away their oppression. For the oppressed, finding personal freedom requires them to open their mind to new solutions or ways of life outside of what they currently know. This was one of the central messages into Pimp a Butterfly, as Kendrick pushed for change on both the societal and individual level.

Finally, Kendrick ends the verse with a call to action. He leads his people into the streets in the name of freedom, rapping, open the streets and watch our beliefs. And when they carve my name inside the concrete, I pray it forever reads, freedom. The mention of prayer here in the final line brings the verse full circle, back to the opening lines reference to the recitation of prayer in the Catholic rosary. We also recognize that Kendrick wishes that his legacy is best known for leading himself and others to freedom through his message and music.

This is precisely what Beyonce is currently doing on Lemonade as she sings an empowering song to a gathering of black women on a former slave plantation. In the film version of Lemonade, we actually don't hear Kendrick's verse at all. Rather, it cuts to the final iteration of Freedom's hook and its outro. The visuals during this outro are among the most powerful in the entire Lemonade film,

Still on the outside grounds of the plantation, some of the women we've seen throughout the chapter now sit on the large branches of an enormous live oak tree covered in Spanish moss. The chapter's final shot begins as a close-up on Beyonce sitting on such a branch. The camera then moves backwards to reveal that Beyonce is joined by the entire group of black women we've seen throughout the chapter. Some are also sitting on branches, while the rest stand in formation in front of the tree. The black women are young, middle-aged, and old, and they sit and stand amongst a plantation tree that holds the historical weight of slavery. Writer Jesmond Ward said that the imagery of these women eating and standing among these trees, quote,

recalls the black southern experience of the past without explicitly referencing its more brutal aspects. The other, more brutal, paths seeds under the skin of the video. It is never explicitly acknowledged in the imagery, but we know it. We know that these women struggled to live and love in dark times, times when they were likened to livestock and owned. Later in the piece, Ward asserts, quote, This is the dark heart of American history. It nullified romantic love through generations of people of African descent. It ripped families apart generation after generation.

It wrote tragedy after tragedy. It pulses through the veins of all of our institutions still, unquote. The oak tree the women occupy at the end of freedom is thus a living, silent observer of this history. The women stand in the very place their ancestors were enslaved and abused for generations. Their presence here acknowledges this past and is a testament to not only their survival, but their ability to transform curses into blessing. Again, to quote Ward, the women of the past and Beyonce's lemonade attempt to rewrite the tragic stories they've inherited through art.

They dance, they sing, they cook. This is how we worry over our past, acknowledge it in our present, and attempt to make it a new in our future. This is how we try to birth beauty through pain. Conclusions. After restoring her personal agency, renewing her relationship,

and breaking the curse that plagued her family, Beyoncé is able to use her story as a blueprint for others like her in search of the same freedom. She stands on a slave plantation stage, to share an empowering message of hope and to celebrate the magic of black women, both the women who stand among her at the plantation, and their ancestors who are enslaved at the very site they are gathered in.

Beyonce sings for them all. It's because of their strength, endurance, and magic that she exists today. They are the alchemists. They provided the recipe. And now it's Beyonce's responsibility to pass down that recipe to the next generation. Take one pint of water, add half pound of sugar, the juice of eight lemons, the zest of half lemon, pour the water from one jug thin into the other several times. This is Lemonade's next chapter, redemption.

A chapter will examine note by note, scene by scene, next time on Dysect. Dysect is a production of Spotify Studios. Remember, you can find visual guides for each episode on dissectpodcast.com, which also includes links to any articles cited on today's episode. While you're there, be sure to check out our limited season six merchandise and be sure to follow us on social media at Dissect Podcast. Today's episode was written by T.T. Shodea and me. Additional analysis by Maggie Lacey and Michael Bundalo. Audio editing by Eric Bass and me. Song Recreations by Andrew Atwood.

Theme music by Bureaucratic. Okay, thanks everyone. Talk to you next week.