I’m a mess. A complete and utter, incomprehensible mess. A swirling mass of emotion that’s desperately trying not to burn London to the ground while listening to Lemonade on repeat. I don’t really want to see the city in flames, but there’s a fire inside me, and a recognition of my power as a woman that’s bursting to come out.
It’s desperately trying to claw its way to the surface because it’s been supressed for so long, and that’s exactly what Beyoncé’s new album has just done. It’s unplugged the stifling dam of oppression and the floodgates are finally open and running free.
Her album is layered and complex, with messages hidden at every turn, but mostly, and most importantly, it’s about being a woman. It’s an hour-long visual history of womanhood, the struggle of becoming a woman, and the power we women have. The raw, incredibly courageous, female power…
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