Flawless Feminism? Beyoncé, Capitalism, and the Politics of Female Representation

This paper was written in 2022

The contentious discussion of political works disseminated through capitalist modes of consumption is primarily concerned with the productivity and authenticity of these efforts. Nancy Fraser’s work in ‘Capitalism, Feminism and the Cunning of History’ remains an influential contribution to this debate, as she firmly rejects the notion that capitalist systems can incite liberation. Fraser’s analysis of second-wave feminism reveals that the ‘the dream of women’s emancipation is harnessed to the engine of capitalist accumulation.’[1] This is equally applicable to the efforts of popular feminism, a movement best understood by Mako Fitts Ward ‘as a set of lifestyle choices rooted in consumption practices.’[2] Although this conflation of political activism with capitalism does not strive to ‘dismantle state institutions’ but rather ‘infuse the latter with feminist values’[3] this essay will attempt to equally measure the productivities and limitations of popular feminism as seen in Beyoncé’s Lemonade (2016). The artist’s commitment to unifying empowerment and commodification throughout the album illustrates a promising sentiment clouded by the oppressive nature of capitalist modes of production.

In her introduction to popular feminism, Sarah Banet-Weiser investigates the integral role of economics, as seen through the volume of girl empowerment organizations insisting that attaining gender equality lies in ‘smarter economics’, which ‘women need to “lean into” to be economically successful.’[4] Although this strategy recognizes the existence of gender inequality (e.g. the wage gap), this idealism overlooks the socioeconomic structures that maintain this disparity and instead positions female CEOs and entrepreneurs as the face of gender equality. COO of Facebook Sheryl Sandberg promotes the same narrative in her book Lean In, which was criticised by Catherine Rottenberg, who is widely known for her criticisms of neoliberal feminism. She writes, ‘incessantly inciting women to accept full responsibility for their own well-being and self-care, neoliberal feminism ultimately directs its address to the middle and upper-middle classes, effectively erasing the vast majority of women from view. And since, it is informed by a market calculus, it is uninterested in social justice of mass mobilization.’[5] The dismissal of dismantling oppressive systemic structures in favour of celebrating isolated cases of defiance alienates individuals who are significantly constrained by racism, classism and ableism (all of which are enforced by capitalism). Banet-Weiser’s observation that the popularity and success of popular feminism demands a neoliberal capitalist context[6] is therefore substantiated as neoliberalism’s emphasis on the individual evades the possibility of implementing tangible change. In many ways this approach is culturally palatable and economically cooperative, which is why within the context of popular feminism, ‘to be “empowered” is to be, as Angela McRobbie (2007) has pointed out, a better economic subject, not necessarily a better feminist subject.’[7]

The relationship between political activism and capitalism is maintained significantly, according to Sara Banet-Weiser, by economies of visibility. By providing platforms for empowerment, confidence, capacity and competence[8], these economies allow popular feminism to ‘exist along a continuum, where spectacular, media-friendly expressions such as celebrity feminism and corporate feminism achieve more visibility, and expressions that critique patriarchal structures and systems of racism are more obscured.’[9] A notable example of this performativity is the upsurge of feminist merchandise made by underpaid garment workers in the Global South worn by Western celebrities and politicians who insist ‘This is what a feminist looks like’. The campaign referred to here was established by The Fawcett Society in 2014 and endorsed by notable politicians including Ed Miliband and Nick Clegg, whose participation granted the feminist movement a degree of solidarity, whilst actively obscuring the labour involved in producing this politicized piece of merchandise. The inhumane working conditions of the Mauritian sweatshop factory tasked with producing the merchandise forced 16 women to sleep in one room, working for £0.62 per hour, starkly contrasting the T-shirt’s retail price of £45.[10] This exposes the hypocrisy of popular feminism, which empowers wealthy Western women at the expense of impoverished women of colour, thereby reinforcing capitalism’s hierarchical structure.

The result of this is a fabrication of empowerment rooted solely in the aforementioned economy of visibility, whereby “trending”, i.e. widespread popularity dictates the cultural and political productivity of these efforts. The intrinsic unification of trending and capitalism is confirmed by Eunsong Kim, who writes that ‘trending is visibility granted by a closed private corporation and their propriety algorithms.’[11] Being as this visibility is dictated by capitalist organizations, the efforts respond directly to ‘corporate logics and desires’[12] thereby economizing supposed political subjects, exposing them to further commodification and in turn surveillance. Although this exposes an additional difficulty of popular feminism, platforms such as digital media have ‘afforded spaces and places for popular feminists to create media, voice their opinions, and launch businesses.’[13] However, operating within these states of visibility reinforce straight, cis-gendered, able-bodied, white and wealthy subjects who conform to social discipline, thereby limiting the potential for those distanced from this collective to secure political agency. Put simply, even the circumstances wherein marginalized groups are able to enter the spotlight, they often fail to succeed beyond a surface level, as Banet-Weiser puts, ‘when the borders and boundaries of visibility are economized, “inclusion” is about widening an already established set of norms.’[14] Because of this, the economy of visibility deems the mere display of marginalized bodies as political, without attempting to deconstruct concepts of race, gender, sexuality or ability.

Contrasting this convention of popular feminism, Roxanne Gay stresses ‘the power of good storytelling’, for its capacity to provide a space in which ‘we react, we feel… seen and understood. ’[15] Gay insists Beyoncé’s aptitude for storytelling achieves exactly that, thereby surpassing the outlined limitations of inclusion through her artistic endeavours. Although the artist has dedicated much of her career to empowering minority groups through her philanthropic endeavours, as demonstrated through her countless donations to rehabilitation centres, disaster relief funds and homeless shelters, the artist’s resonance lies primarily in her artistry. Mako Fitts Ward substantiates this by stating that ‘as Black female success came under fire, Beyoncé imagined stunning renderings of personal agency in her music and videos that resonated across diverse audiences.’[16] Following the dismissal of her father and manager Mathew Knowles in 2011, Beyoncé’s discography and videography transitioned from conformist and uncontroversial to explosive and overtly political with insistent reminders of her allegiance to feminism. Artistic works such as ‘Run the World (Girls), released the same year led to public praise from Michelle Obama, Lady Gaga and Barbra Streisand, all of whom commended the artist’s triumph in liberating young women across the world. Solidifying this commitment, Beyoncé’s performance at the MTV Video Music Video Awards in 2014 included the singer posing before a screen displaying the word ‘feminist’ as a voiceover by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie, author of We Should All Be Feminists proclaimed “Feminist. The person who believes in the social, political, economic equality of the sexes.”[17] By affiliating herself with a movement as contentious as feminism, Beyoncé solidified the fact that she no longer cared to remain palatable. This moment led the way for Beyoncé’s activism develop further, subsequently taking the shape of Black feminism, which decentres the conventional archetypes within economies of visibility (straight, cis-gendered, able-bodied and white subjects). The conflation of Black excellence and feminism became a focal point of Beyoncé’s work throughout the 2010s, namely the albums 4 (2011), Beyoncé (2013) and Lemonade (2016), all of which sought to empower the intersections of society.

These efforts remain commendable yet often fail to adequately deconstruct the systematic structures of gender equality, to which Beyoncé personally contributes. As established, a significant limitation of feminist efforts is the centralization of economic liberation, which the artist continuously imposes upon her work. In her paper ‘Soundtrack Self: FKA Twigs, Music Video and Celebrity Feminism’, Kirsty Fairclough assesses the relationship between feminism and celebrity culture with references to the effective and restrictive tendencies of Beyoncé’s contributions. Despite introducing Black feminism to the mainstream, Fairclough writes, ‘Beyoncé’s political message is also squarely a capitalist one. Her videos are meticulously constructed in order to cater to an eager fan base…The fans are essentially buying into Beyoncé: the business, and her newfound activism, becomes a perfectly timed extension of her seemingly limitless brand.’[18] No work is more emblematic of this than Lemonade, Beyoncé’s most personal and political album. Written in response to her husband’s infidelity, the album seeks to empower its audience by tackling this issue as well as generational trauma within a racial context. This is captured most daringly in ‘Formation’, the tenth song on the album with a music video that sought to ‘show the historical impact of slavery on Black love, and what it has done to the Black family and Black men and women – how we’re almost socialized to not be together.’ [19] The video’s bold political position is maintained through insistent references to ‘the Black Lives Matter movement, the governmental response to Hurricane Katrina, the politics of Black women’s hair, family history, and [Beyoncé’s] own fractured relationship with the American South.’[20]

However, as hypothesized by Fairclough, the execution remains intrinsically tied to capitalist modes of production, which becomes evident during the video’s earliest shots as Beyoncé squats on top of a sinking police car. Symbolising the rampant police brutality throughout New Orleans and lack of government intervention during the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina, this moment seeks to portray the poverty and injustice within Louisiana’s Black community. This moment is indicative of Beyoncé’s support of the Black Lives Matter movement, which she proves to spectators through ‘a clear effort to appeal emotionally to her audience for the purpose of fostering public solidarity for the movement.’[21] Seemingly a productive use of economies of visibility, Beyoncé inadvertently opposes this political message by dressing in Gucci whilst atop the police car, which reminds audiences of her ties to Black commodity fetishism. This simply cannot be regarded as a singular oversight as this affiliation has derailed the artist’s previous endeavours in feminist empowerment, including ‘Run the World (Girls)’. Despite the praise received by popular figures of women’s liberation, many overlook the armies of women led by Beyoncé, who are adorned in high-end clothing designed by Alexander McQueen, Lavin, Chanel, Givenchy and Jean Paul Gautier.[22] Although seemingly an effort to remind women of their potential to rise through the ranks of the class system, this ‘reflects a disingenuous connection with the politics of Black radicalism’[23] that remains more relevant than ever in ‘Formation’. The artist’s evident disconnect from these issues reminds audiences that ‘she is not a marginal struggling artist, operating on the peripheries of mass culture’[24] but rather a well-oiled machine, well-versed in performative activism. This performativity is continued by the lyrics, which proclaim, “I’m so reckless when I rock my Givenchy dress” and “Always stay gracious, best revenge is your paper”, thereby heightening the artist’s reliance on economic liberation in her political message. Ward’s criticisms insist that ‘when she suggests that getting “your paper” is the ultimate form of justice, she’s deploying a vision of power feminism invested in individualism and economic self-advancement.’[25] Furthermore, the acquisition of wealth is not only foundational to Beyoncé’s feminist narrative but also central to the ways in which ethnic minorities perceive survival and success. This is supported by Nany Leong’s investigation on Racial Capitalism, in which she writes, ‘throughout American history, whiteness has provided social and economic value to those who possess it’[26], therefore it could be argued that the efforts of non-white Americans, which are rooted in securing financial stability could subsequently provide social stability as well. Beyoncé exploits this fact, by encouraging individuals to contort themselves into productive workers in order to benefit from the capitalist system without acknowledging the inherent racialized, gendered and classist biases that disallow this. In other words, Beyoncé proclaims the value of economic independence under the guise of a ‘revolutionary elevation of Blackness and Black womanhood’ when in actuality she engages with ‘the typical commodification of it in service to one woman’s wealth building.’[27] Similarly to ‘Lean In’ politics, this conflation of economics and political activism leads to ‘an ethic of individualism that runs counter to the communal uplift necessary to enact radical systemic change.’[28] This manifestation of capitalism therefore hinders the capacity for true empowerment, thus exposing Beyoncé’s shortcomings as a feminist.

Despite the underlying reliance on capitalist ideologies, the video is still credited as being ‘unapologetically Black’[29] for its celebration of the culture and community of New Orleans, a nucleus of Black culture and resistance to systemic racism within the American South.[30] This is established when the video samples the voice of Messy Mya, a Black YouTube star from New Orleans who was murdered in 2010. A significant figure of the New Orleans community, Mya’s voice echoes, “What happened at the New Orleans… Bitch, I’m back by popular demand” with a tone of voice that ‘harkens a sonic queerness that echoes throughout the tune.’[31] Not only does this attempt to contest the displacement of the Black community in Louisiana, but it simultaneously reminds audiences of the community’s open defiance. The implication is clear: no matter what happened in New Orleans, they will always persist with vibrance and vigour. However, Beyoncé’s capitalist political message cannot be forgotten, as it has been argued that the artist failed to facilitate this message of resistance throughout the production of her music video. Instead the artist glamourised the aesthetics of political protest (of which she also profited), which is substantiated by Mya’s estate suing the artist on the basis that Beyoncé ‘took the deceased artist’s phrase without permission and went on to make millions from the track.’[32] Similar to Banet-Weiser’s previously mentioned hypothesis of inclusion, this sample simply expands the established norms instead of dismantling an evidently arbitrary system. In other words, Beyoncé’s use of Mya is tokenistic and does not attempt to legitimize their existence through fair pay and compensation to the estate. In similar fashion to the disregard imposed upon workers in the Global South, whose work is obscured and often misplaced in the hands of Western women, this spectacular display of feminism ‘eclipses a feminist critique of structure, as well as obscures the labour involved in producing oneself according to the parameters of popular feminism.[33] Although a significant contribution to the discourse of popular feminism, Banet-Weiser’s introduction ceases to address the erasure and appropriation of trans queer bodies, particularly LGBTQ+ people of colour within mainstream feminism. Therefore, during Beyoncé’s repeated insistence of ‘I slay’, a colloquial piece of jargon that references Big Freedia, a Black queer rapper whose voice also features in the music video, exclaiming “I didn’t come to play with you hoes, I came to slay, bitch!” one cannot help but once again feel the appropriation of queer aesthetics. The ‘Formation’ music video therefore ‘represents the undergirding of queer representation during movements of Black radical tradition; however it also represents the recursive history of eradication in the narratives of African American activism and liberation.[34] Although this treatment may not seem entirely pertinent to feminist issues, it directly appropriates the aesthetics of a significant intersectional community within the feminist movement, thus reaffirming Beyoncé’s struggle to authentically liberate her audience.

Despite this, readers must equally be reminded of the ways in which Beyoncé partially opposes the traditions embedded within economies of visibility. Unlike the conventional white bodies synonymous with female empowerment, which erase women of colour and perpetuate racist ideals, Beyoncé redefines what it means to be a Black woman in America simply by performing confidently in her own skin. This sense of self-assurance has remained fundamental to the artist’s brand image, as evidenced by her third studio album entitled, I Am… Sasha Fierce, which welcomed her on-stage persona of the same name. According to the artist, ‘Sasha Fierce is the fun, more sensual, more aggressive, more outspoken side and more glamorous side that comes out when [she’s] working and when [she’s] on stage.’[35] This sentiment continues throughout Lemonade, particularly in ‘Formation’, as the artist assertively engages in elaborate dance routines with intense focus on every aspect of her body. Although the artist’s powerful persona both in front of and behind the camera appears to dictate the camera’s gaze, critics such as bell hooks persistently contest the productivity of this. The artist does seeks to cater to her Black female audience, thus departing from the white male gaze, however hooks remains insistent that ‘commodities, irrespective of their subject matter, are made, produced and marketed to entice any and all consumers.’[36] Therefore the artist’s tendency to commodify herself manifests further, since the economies of visibility that Beyoncé is operating within construct a sense of empowerment that is ‘often achieved through a focus on the visible body – precisely one of the aspects of patriarchy feminism has been fighting for centuries.’[37] However this concern overlooks the ways in which choosing how to present one’s body can contribute towards liberating oneself, which one critic addresses in response to hooks, ‘If the claim can be made that hooks somehow uses her body more honourably or more worthily than Beyoncé, though both are engaged in the same “business of capitalist moneymaking” hooks called out at the beginning of her piece, then that brand of feminism is no more than the other side of the patriarchal coin.’[38] The video further contradicts patriarchal ideology by featuring all Black dance ensembles, in which women of various skin tones adorn their natural coily hair, thereby opposing the history of Eurocentric beauty standards that have ceaselessly defined societal standards and movements of female empowerment. Readers must be reminded that although Beyoncé’s artistry ‘reflect[s] her Southern upbringing and loving relationship with Black America, many critics cite the ‘overly’ sexual nature of her performances’ and ‘complimentary lightskin privilege’ both of which ‘intersect with racism and sexism to construct exclusionary notions of Blackness.’[39] This is present within ‘Formation’ as Beyoncé’s appearance greatly contrasts that of her female counterparts, most strikingly during the parking lot dance routine in which Beyoncé’s blonde hair stands out amongst the sea of dark hair. It should be noted that the scrutinization of hair colour, although seemingly pedantic, belongs within a longstanding tradition of Beyoncé minimizing her Black features, which categorizes her as a ‘post-racial pop star [who] embraces white standards of beauty and rejects her African-American heritage.’[40] This leads me to return to hooks’ discussion of the artist, which acknowledges the attempt to redefine the perception of Black women’s bodies in the mainstream media, but remains insistent that ‘her vision of feminism does not call for an ends to patriarchal domination. It’s all about insisting on equal rights for men and women.’[41] The artist does not therefore empower her audience as she does not encourage the dismantling of patriarchal standards, as we have been led to believe.

Popular feminism and its reliance on capitalist modes of production evidently prompts several complexities that restrict the productivity of its efforts. My analysis of Beyoncé’s feminist works demonstrates a reliance on capitalist modes of production, which generates the same outcome. Of all artistic works, Lemonade remains the most complex and interesting, in regards to the ways in which the artist attempts to exceed her previous efforts, and ‘Formation’ is perhaps a paragon of this. The centrality of race in her political message, although culturally innovative, remains adherent to oppressive Western structures, as noted by Judicaelle Irakoze; ‘Black capitalism, Black imperialism, Black monarchies were never our freedom. Any they won’t be even if we add Black faces to these systems. They will still oppress the Black community since they are rooted in anti-Blackness.’[42] The inclination to persistently promote capitalist modes of production exists primarily as a method of proving one’s productivity and value in society. Irakoze continues by outlining its presence within the Black community, she writes, ‘this has been our struggle as Black people, living under the blinding effects of the white gaze, by continuously proving that we are worthy and even more harshly by participating in structures that uphold whiteness such as capitalism and imperialism, under the guise of Black power.’[43] These comments provide a definitive answer to the proposed question by reminding readers of the inherent biases and injustices of capitalism, which leads Irakoze to only envisage a solution that rejects this system. In her words, Beyoncé rendering of Black feminism should not ‘have to participate in capitalism and imperialism to be granted humanity.’[44] Therefore I conclude by insisting that feminist works are only truly political when distanced from oppressive systems such as capitalism that exploits more than it empowers. 

[1] Fraser, Nancy. "Feminism, Capitalism and the Cunning of History." New Left Review no. 56 (2009): 110-1

[2] Ward, Mako Fitts. "Queen Bey and the New N***erati: Ethics of Individualism in the Appropriation of Black Radicalism." Black Camera 9, no. 1 (2017): 155

[3] (Fraser 2009, 105)

[4] (Banet-Weiser 2018, 8)

[5] Rottenberg, Catherine. ‘How neoliberalism colonised feminism – and what you can do about it.’ The Conversation. 23/05/2018. https://theconversation.com/how-neoliberalism-colonised-feminism-and-what-you-can-do-about-it-94856

[6] (Banet-Weiser 2018, 18)

[7] (Banet-Weiser 2018, 21)

[8] Banet-Weiser, Sarah. Empowered: Popular Feminism and Popular Misogyny Duke University Press, 2018: 4

[9] (Banet-Weiser 2018, 4)

[10] Press Association. ‘Feminist T-shirts worn by politicians allegedly made in sweatshop conditions.’ The Guardian. 02/11/2014. https://www.theguardian.com/world/2014/nov/02/fawcett-society-feminist-t-shirts-allegedly-sweatshop-conditions

[11] Kim, Eunsong. "The Politics of Visibility." In Disrupting the Digital Humanities, edited by Kim, Dorothy and Jesse Stommel, Punctum Books, 2018: 329

[12] (Banet-Weiser 2018, 25)

[13] (Banet-Weiser 2018, 18)

[14] (Banet-Weiser 2018, 26)

[15] Gay, Roxanne. ‘2016 PEN World Voices The Arthur Miller Freedom to Write Lecture’ PEN America. 11/05/2016, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dl63ivu0kAw

[16] (Ward 2017, 147)

[17] Chimamanda Ngozi Adiche. ‘Beyoncé 2014 FULL performance’ GG. 16/09/2021 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=A0VYHRLDpic

[18] Fairclough, Kirsty. "Soundtrack Self: FKA Twigs, Music Video and Celebrity Feminism." Music/Video: History, Aesthetics, Media (2017): 127-8

[19] Okeowo, Alexis. "The Provocateur Behind Beyoncé, Rihanna, and Issa Rae." The New Yorker 27, (2017). https://www.newyorker.com/magazine/2017/03/06/the-provocateur-behind-beyonce-rihanna-and-issa-rae

[20] Syfret, Wendy. ‘the story of messy mya, the tragic voice on beyoncé’s new track’ i-D (2016). https://i-d.vice.com/en_uk/article/a3gq9g/the-story-of-messy-mya-the-tragic-voice-on-beyoncs-new-track

[21] Pratt, Kira Marie. "Why We Need To Get In 'Formation': The Rhetoric of Beyoncé." Young Scholars in Writing 14, (2017): 75

[22] (Ward 2017, 156)

[23] (Ward 2017, 156)

[24] (Ward 2017, 154)

[25] (Ward 2017, 155)

[26] Koepke, Deanna Jacobsen. "Race, Class, Poverty, and Capitalism." Race, Gender & Class 14, no. 3 (2007): 2156

[27] Harris, Tamara Winfrey. "Interlude F: “Formation” and the Black-ass truth about Beyoncé and capitalism." The Lemonade Reader. Routledge (2019): 155

[28] (Ward 2017, 152)

[29] Johnson, Corey. ‘When Activism Meets Capitalism: Beyoncé and “Formation”’ Out of Bounds, February 22 2016. https://ooboundsblog.com/2016/02/22/when-activism-meets-capitalism-beyonce-and-formation/

[30] The city’s resistance to white supremacy within the American political system is epitomized through a shootout that took place between the Black Panther Party and branches of law enforcement during a standoff on 15 September 1970. The effort demanded that ‘African Americans should no longer be lynched or beaten or attacked and have their rights taken away without any form of resistance’ (cited from Arend, Orissa, Charles E. Jones, and Curtis J. Austin. Showdown in Desire: The Black Panthers Take a Stand in New Orleans University of Arkansas Press, 2010.)

[31] Kinsey, J. Michael. ‘Part II: Music and Visual Arts as Activism’ African American Arts: Activism, Aesthetics, and Futurity Rutgers University Press, 2019: 176

[32] O’Connor, Roisin. ‘Beyoncé’ sued over Messy Mya sample in Formation.’ The Independent 8 (2017). https://www.independent.co.uk/arts-entertainment/films/news/beyonce-messy-mya-formation-lawsuit-latest-music-video-youtube-jay-z-sony-a7568376.html

[33] (Banet-Weiser 2018, 4)

[34] (Kinsey 2019, 176)

[35] MacInnes, Paul. "Beyoncé? we Think You Mean Sasha Fierce." The Guardian. (2008) https://www.theguardian.com/music/2008/oct/24/beyonce-sasha-fierce

[36] hooks, bell. ‘Beyoncé’s Lemonade is capitalist money-making at its best.’ The Guardian. 2016. https://www.theguardian.com/music/2016/may/11/capitalism-of-beyonce-lemonade-album

[37] (Banet-Weiser 2018, 25)

[38] La Sha. ‘bell hooks vs Beyoncé: What this feminist scholarly critique gets wrong about “Lemonade” and liberation. Salon (2016) https://www.salon.com/2016/05/17/bell_hooks_vs_beyonce_what_the_feminist_scholarly_critique_gets_wrong_about_lemonade_and_liberation/

[39] Davis, Cienna. "2. from Colorism to Conjurings Tracing the Dust in Beyoncé’s Lemonade." (2017): 8

[40] (Davis 2017, 16)

[41] (hooks 2016)

[42] Irakoze, J. 2020. 'Why We Must Be Careful When Watching Beyoncé’s ‘Black Is King’', Essence. https://www.essence.com/entertainment/only-essence/beyonces-black-is-king-criticism/

[43] (Irakoze 2020)

[44] (Irakoze 2020)

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