I can’t lie, when I first caught wind of the now CNN-worthy melee involving the Knowles-Carter trio, I couldn’t keep my cursor away from the replay button. The shock value of Solange “allegedly” hurling her limber limbs at a cornered Jay Z unravelled the fabric of everyone’s work day (I can still hear the animated oohs and ahhs of co-workers watching the Worldstar-esque moment).
Sure, the baffling scenario—which occurred on the evening of the annual Met Ball—spawned a helping of jokes that could dethrone Drake, the Meme King, himself, but the takeaway talking point of the fiasco intrigued me. It wasn’t the fact that Solange was showing her trill side that the public has never been privy to. Beyonce’s unfortunate middleman position and nearly undetectable presence in the elevator was what became the fodder of anyone with access to an LCD screen.
When Streetfighter-like punches whizzed past her primped and perfected face in the direction of her husband of six years, what we saw was the loudest non-reaction imaginable. Not a flinch came from the Queen Bey. Not a rotation, not a shield, no nothing. For once, Beyonce did little to cause any buzz, and it’s what caused the internet to explode anyway. “Here goes Beyonce being a robot.” “What kind of wife is she? A horrible one.” “How could you not defend your man??” A whole lot of white noise from self-appointed pop culture commentators.
I find it irritating that the most pressing issue at hand for people was her dropping domestic duties as someone else’s partner. What about the sister (or even the sister-like friend) that came first? Why is it an acceptable concept for a woman to instantly side with her man at the first sign of a squabble before figuring out what upset her sister? Is the sister bond that disposable to people nowadays?