I was 9 years old when I told my Burundian parents that my dream was to dance for Beyoncé, and you should have seen their shocked faces.
I didn’t speak English back then, so it took moving to the U.S. at 17 and learning Bey’s native tongue to properly fall in love with her music.
She has shaped my entire life and validated my Black existence in ways I could never fit into one article. I want to make sure you all understand that what I am about to say is not about Beyoncé as a person or necessarily her art.
This is an ongoing conversation among decolonizing spaces and Pan-African theorists that no Black person has ever gained freedom by claiming to be king.
Read more on essence.com