Queen Bey is more than just a conventional pop star in Brazil, where — despite her class politics — she has attained the unique status of political diva. 

, the most prominent leftist congresswoman in the country, calls herself a Beyoncé fan. The well-known Black intellectual 

 for its political potential while acknowledging its commercial aims and considers Beyoncé a key public interlocutor on issues of identity and 

Even the leftist President Luiz Inácio Lula da Silva shared a 

 joking that Beyoncé’s 2023 visit to the country was because of his re-election. On that tour Beyoncé went to Salvador, the largest Black city outside of Africa, to celebrate a screening of her concert film 

. That event was co-organized by Afropunk’s local producers, including Val Benvindo, who has strong ties with Ilê Aiyê, a key political and cultural Black organization based in Salvador. Through her charitable organization BeyGood, Queen Bey supported the 2021 

 Tem Gente com Fome and a scholarship program for low-income students at the State University of Bahia, among other social initiatives.

Three young Afro-Brazilian intellectuals joined Hammer & Hope on Feb. 7 for a virtual discussion on Beyoncé’s influence in Brazil, the first in a series about Beyoncé’s impact on the global Black diaspora. Their conversation explores how Queen Bey became a political diva for a generation of young Afro-Brazilians, how the shifts in her aesthetics and career choices influenced that process, and whether her embrace of capitalism undermines her image as an engaged Black artist.

 Why does Beyoncé occupy this place of a politically engaged diva in Brazil?

Here in Brazil, we have a movement very focused on aesthetics. Why? Because in Brazil, the Black population is totally massacred. Percentage-wise, there are few Black people who live very well, who live with dignity. So what is the resource that is within the reach of any Black person? It’s their own body! The aesthetics of the body play a fundamental role. In this context, culture becomes essential.

In Brazil, the Black movement recognizes as the birthplace of its struggle 

 — that is Carnival, celebration. So it’s another way of conducting political struggle. Which is the best form? There’s no single option. Each configuration has its own conditions, potentialities, and impasses. Beyoncé is what she is in Brazil because, despite the challenging circumstances Black people face, there is in this country a set of affirmative policies that empower the Black youth from an economic, political, symbolic, and social point of view. It’s a generation after mine and Mônica’s that in some way already inherits political consciousness from our generation. My first-semester university students were already politically literate, knowing some basic things that took me six semesters to understand. This new generation has arrived at the university knowing a lot, racially affirming themselves, with natural hair.

Since Ilê Aiyê, culture has always been important; with the explosion of social networks, there was an expansion of these references. In Salvador, for example, there is a phenomenon called 

, which presents itself as a party and festival. The main theme is Afrofuturism, inspired by the legacy of Afropunk, but with its own characteristics. During the festival, various musical styles are presented, from pop divas to Bahian pagode. There’s always a huge line in Rio Vermelho [a bohemian neighborhood in Salvador] of Black people dressed elaborately for the event. In Brazil, there are many similar cultural manifestations; in Rio de Janeiro, for example, there’s the 

. Batekoo is one of those movements that incorporates North American references. It’s how Beyoncé’s popularity grows considerably in Brazil. Young fans in particular play an important role in this scenario.

Bruna, you were the women’s director of the National Union of Students during this period. You had contact with young women all over Brazil in a deeply political context. Why is Beyoncé an artistic and political reference for these young women, especially considering the country’s long tradition of politically engaged art and committed artists?

 My hypothesis is linked to the racial issue. You can’t talk about the insurgency of women in Brazil without considering this. At the time, I followed intense debates within the feminist movement, especially with white feminists who had a lot of resistance to Beyoncé. There were criticisms about her hyper-sexualization and expressions of liberal feminism in her work. We Black feminists, on the other hand, argued that despite Beyoncé being a mainstream artist with a large share of the market, her remarkable presence had an emancipatory effect. And when our girls appropriate this representation, there’s a political impact and an impact on the body. It was a complex debate; it wasn’t a matter of either this or that, but of both this and that. There was a component of racism in the criticisms from white feminists, but not everything they said was wrong. There were indeed elements of liberal feminism, and feminism ended up becoming a commodity, just as certain companies have built a market niche based on the commodification of Blackness.

 I’ll make a quick digression. I think Beyoncé always had a racial consciousness. Some elements of her work have always been in dialogue with Black American pop music, from Destiny’s Child to her solo career. This connection has always existed, even if it wasn’t explicit. Her aesthetics, the way she dealt with clothing brands that didn’t want to dress her, her own mother sewing clothes for the girls at the beginning of her career — all of this reflects the marks of racism. I think this awareness was inevitable, but for a period she used a “

,” which is not a criticism of her but a reality of Black existence in the diaspora, especially considering the place she occupies. Sometimes we’re pushed to use this mask, whether through language, hair, clothing, as a strategy to be accepted. This white mask is present in her first four albums, coinciding with the period when she was under the guidance of her father, who had artistic, creative, and business control over her. I think this patriarchal relationship shaped her art until she broke with him.

Among the three of us, I believe I was the only one who went to her show in 2010 here in Salvador. She had released the album 

, and the “Single Ladies” video had gone viral. In Salvador, however, the show was considered a flop, although the company that put it on claims 45,000 people attended. Here the consumption of international artists is lower. Beyoncé was prominent in the industry, but that didn’t guarantee the same level of sales as local artists, like 

, a mainstream Brazilian pop artist. In 2010, Salvador was trying to enter the international concert circuit, but shows like Beyoncé’s and the Black Eyed Peas’ were considered failures, which buried the idea that the city had the strength to host major international artists.

Today, Salvador is in a different geopolitics, seen as an interesting place for Afro-diasporic consumption. Beyoncé’s visit in 2023, organized by Afropunk, reflects this, but it also reflects a neoliberal logic, where business speaks to a Black community. I remember very well the criticisms of patriarchy that 

.” Feminism was being consumed, but on the same album there’s another song where Beyoncé sings, “Bow down, bitches.” In that same song, there’s a narrated scene of aggression against a woman. So it’s a strange, contradictory kind of feminism.

 Mônica, you mentioned earlier a critical reflection on Beyoncé’s work and how it fits into the racial complexity of Brazil. Could you elaborate more on that?

In this context, Batekoo, as Bruna well said, has characteristic elements of music produced in Black neighborhoods in Brazil. It’s an affirmative manifestation of the peripheries, with pride in being peripheral and Black, without limiting itself to being just modern or traditional music, like samba or samba-reggae music from the so-called Blocos Afro. Batekoo brought an aesthetic innovation that caused a significant impact. I remember well the first Batekoo parties and the emerging aesthetic of them. This movement began in 2014 and quickly consolidated itself in a powerful way. It’s all part of the spirit of a time. I think Beyoncé arrives for us within this spirit, along with a thirst for powerful Black women, affirming Black women in positions of power, an expression of achievements from a position of pleasure. Because that’s what Beyoncé will lead.

, where I bring together various images of Black women and blur them. I begin the work with the figure of the invisible Black servant. I bring her as a denunciation, making her visible. And then I present the act of drinking cleaning products as a metaphor for the act of wearing a white mask. From the moment this character I play drinks bleach, she retouches her makeup, using tones lighter than her skin, thins her nose, puts on a blond wig, she will be able to speak. I lip-sync Beyoncé, and from then on I begin speaking French — a very formal-sounding language, one that generates estrangement and discomfort relative to Brazilian Portuguese. I wanted to bring in Beyoncé at that moment. I created this work in 2015 absolutely affected by listening to Beyoncé’s music. But she has an aesthetic that we cannot deny: It’s a whitened aesthetic. I think we are free to do whatever we want. But the whitening is visible. There’s talk about whether she underwent skin-whitening procedures, nose procedures, etc. This white mask makes us more palatable, accessible. It’s what Fanon tells us. And we should not criticize a Black person for wearing a white mask in a world that is anti-Black. So I was interested in accessing that image, dismantling it along with other images that I present in the work: a Carnival dancer, the warrior, and other images. The figure of Beyoncé interests me, and that’s why I use the song “

.” She sings “Diva” as a new gangster, an incredible performance. But still through the use of this white mask, which is necessary to have a voice and notoriety.

 Jenifer, could you respond to Mônica’s critique of the whitening of Beyoncé’s image?

 I was talking about the aesthetic issue. And the first thing that came to my mind was her preference for straight blond hair for much of her career. It accompanies her to this day. I believe that this aesthetic was chosen precisely to be more accepted. And at the same time, here in Salvador it was very common for beauty salons to have Beyoncé’s photo displayed, showing her with straight brown hair, wearing red clothes. It could have been a white woman with straight hair. But it was Beyoncé. At various moments in her career, she really needed the white mask to be accepted, to be able to sell. And when she subverts, she begins to face criticism.

I believe that today she is more concerned with the commercial aspect of her career. She made a partnership with Tiffany & Co. She was proud to be the first Black woman to wear the Tiffany Diamond. But the necklace she wore wasn’t Tiffany’s. It had a stone that was stolen — I don’t know if it was from South Africa or another country. Tiffany of course will say they bought it from traders, but I believe it was really stolen. Why should she be proud of being a Black woman displaying this necklace? How far does this empowerment go? She partners with big brands, but who has the purchasing power to acquire these pieces? I’m not talking about the purchasing power of American fans, but the purchasing power of Brazilian fans, most of whom come from poor, majority-Black neighborhoods. Who is going to buy items from her Ivy Park brand, where a shirt is 400, 500 reais? What kind of empowerment is this? It’s made by a Black person who has a Black team. The models are of all colors. But who has this purchasing power to buy a piece from Ivy Park? These luxury partnerships she makes are still very much associated with whiteness. Let’s be empowered — but how? Is it just an individual matter? Is it just meritocracy? Am I just going to work hard because that’s what society expects of women? I believe that the rise of a poor Black person comes through collective struggles. If you don’t have public policies that help the Black population, the LGBT population, it will be a very difficult, very lengthy, almost impossible struggle to achieve.

 How do these contradictions affect your relationship with the artist? And how do you see the impact on the Beyhive community?

 I’m disappointed. How can a person who sings and affirms herself politically make a totally dubious partnership? She’s not an artist who needs to partner with a luxury company because she’s already at another level. It’s really a question of ego, the desire to flaunt that jewelry, to use a famous brand. Or perhaps it’s even the fallacy, reproduced here in Brazil, of Blacks at the top. But who makes up the base for her to be flaunting to? Anyway, I consider her work magnificent, but it’s a disappointment.

Dancers from the Unidos da Tijuca samba school dressed as Beyoncé perform during Carnival celebrations at the Sambadrome in Rio de Janeiro, Feb. 28, 2017. Photograph by Mauro Pimentel/AP.

 Do you think these contradictions have affected fans’ relationship with her in general? Do you see a negative reaction?

 I see it, but still very little. She has a legion of fans who are very loyal to her and sometimes very blind. So some people criticize, but say, 

Let’s give her a pass, because she’s the first Black woman doing this

. How many times did they think she’s going to give voice to them, but she doesn’t give voice to anyone?

 But is it giving a pass or sharing a worldview in which empowerment is more connected to money than to dignity, citizenship, community? This word “empowerment” is extremely complicated and problematic. But I’m also not a purist — I won’t say that money isn’t good, that comfort isn’t good.

I’ve been into rap music for a long time, and I’ve been moving away from this idea that the artist has to produce only engaged art. The artist does what they want. If Beyoncé wants to sing only in Japanese, make a J-drama, she can. Her political opinion about things is what really matters. However, it’s very difficult to formulate a position on her political stance precisely because she doesn’t talk much, doesn’t position herself much. One aspect is her role as a public citizen and the effect that has. Another is the effect of her work and her image. For example, I disagree that she has to whiten herself to be heard. Maybe it has happened before. Nowadays, no. It’s more Beyoncé’s option. It’s a choice. Nina Simone chose not to do this. In Brazil, 

 took a beating, recorded less, made less money, but maintained his voice. I wonder: If you have to whiten yourself to have a voice, is that voice really yours?

My experience in Europe — I spent six months in France and Sweden — revealed to me a much deeper dimension of the aesthetic question. Aesthetics, by the way, are extremely important, an aspect that our Brazilian political class often doesn’t understand. The way of carrying yourself in the street, the way of walking, carries immense meaning. When you move through territories where the Black presence is significant, but repressed — like Barroquinha or the São Joaquim fair in Salvador — you quickly notice the complexity of this spatial existence. You see a Black person who doesn’t have a penny, doesn’t have access to rights, but they manage to place themselves in the world. Their body is in the world in another way. This has an effect on that person’s life. They might even have access to rights in certain places but won’t feel comfortable speaking up — fearful because of their accent and tone of voice.

In other words, there are many dimensions that complicate Beyoncé’s contradictions. It seems that the community and fans share a bit of her worldview. But Beyoncé can’t have the same worldview that I have, or that Mônica has, or Jenifer. She became a pop artist very young. While I was doing politics and reading Abdias do Nascimento, she was closing contracts. She has that trajectory; we can’t expect much. Of course, we can dream. If she wanted to, she could. There are others who made different choices.

 Bruna brought up a very important question regarding Beyoncé’s agency in her whitening process. Mônica, what is your opinion?

Racism is aesthetic. It’s also philosophical, but the first layer of racism is aesthetic. It’s the layer of our appearance: our hair texture, the nose, the skin tone. The first dimension of racism occurs through the reading of our body, either by appearance or by meaning. We are talking about whitening in its multiple dimensions. The very fact that we speak a European language is already a dimension of whitening. This is inescapable. I can decide to learn Yoruba, speak Yoruba in Salvador or elsewhere in Brazil, but it won’t be enough. It’s an inescapable process for all of us who are in the diaspora and beyond at this moment. These procedures aren’t exclusive to a single artist. Even white women are pressured to look increasingly white. Artists like Beyoncé, the members of BTS, and African singers go through similar processes to be consumed from a Western perspective, whether in America or in other territories.

Bruna used the example of Nina Simone, but she was practically exiled and persecuted, and she became deeply ill. Which artists occupied prominent spaces without going through these layers of assimilation? These are questions we should ask, especially because we are women and these questions aren’t asked of Black men. Beyoncé is married to a Black man who is as much of a billionaire as she is. It’s also interesting to observe her sister, Solange, and their distinct appearances and aesthetic choices. But they don’t occupy the same place of consumption in the industry.

And I agree with Bruna — we give Beyoncé a pass. This celebratory discourse of the first Black women seems tiresome to me. I don’t understand how the invisibility of other Black female artists can be turned into a celebration. We continue looking for a first Black woman on the podium, when in fact it’s a historical defeat.

I perceive a neoliberal ideal that transcends racial boundaries, to the detriment of rights. We’re losing the notion of collectivity, replacing collective achievements with an individualistic discourse of consumption. The music of Beyoncé and Jay-Z and other rappers centers on the freedom to buy. This is highly American, but it’s placed on Black people from other countries as well. I remember a discussion years ago among Black female bloggers about working conditions in South Asia, where workers for Beyoncé’s Ivy Park brand received around $6 per day. [

] Meanwhile, she was singing “***Flawless.” In other words, Beyoncé sells feminism while semi-enslaved women [allegedly] worked for her — non-Black women, it’s true, but under exploitative conditions that have historically characterized the Black experience.

Does the class issue destabilize the discourse around Beyoncé?

 Because she is in a North American context, the class issue becomes more evident. She is in the American context, where being the pioneer is a source of pride. So she benefits from that. And Beyoncé’s class is the billionaire class. She will do everything to preserve her social status while producing her art and singing about feminism. She will continue singing, making her art, and projecting an unattainable goal to her fans. Because no matter how hard I try, chase after it, it will be impossible to be at half the place where she is financially.

 Here in Brazil, I don’t believe the class issue destabilizes Beyoncé’s discourse on social and racial issues. In Brazil, the promotion of a materially rich and ostentatious life prevails most in the poor neighborhoods of big cities. Unfortunately, we don’t have a very strong class identity in these areas. This has been diluted by the precariousness of life, the precariousness of work. People here in Brazil are still not offended by wealth; they aspire to wealth, they want wealth. My brother once told me, “I want to be rich.” I asked, “For what?” and he didn’t know how to answer. He just knows he wants to be rich. In the minds of our people, being rich is having dignity. But dignity is squeezed between misery and luxury, between misery and ostentation. Getting out of misery is being able to flaunt — it’s gold chains, it’s Nike sneakers, it’s a lot of money. And then, also agreeing with Mônica about the various signifiers around whitening, the class issue bears the mark of color, origin, and race. Because the rich of the world, in terms of income concentration, are white. I would say the class issue is not a blemish from the point of view of the audience. Because unfortunately, it’s an audience that still thinks that voting for the rich is better because the rich won’t steal.

 What is still attractive about Beyoncé’s work? How does Beyoncé still win audiences in Brazil?

 The fact that she is a woman and so in control of her own career is an inspiration for women artists in Brazil. The ability to reinvent herself is quite inspiring. She’s a Black woman in a position of power, and that has effects on the popular imagination. It’s true that these are limited effects, because we face the impossibility of reaching her social and financial status. I hope she continues to reinvent herself and that her human side appears more and more, which I think will captivate more people each day.

Beyoncé is attractive because she is an established leader. When she sets out to do something, it’s not simply a song; she shows herself to be very studious. Her work refers to Black culture, to racial and gender issues, even though her personal side is marked by contradictions. There is also the impact of the technical team behind her, which is made up mostly of Black people, such as her adviser Yvette Noel-Schure, who has been with her since the Destiny’s Child days, and Ivy McGregor, executive director of BeyGood. It’s her commitment to working with Black artists and producers, like Shaboozey and many others, who often begin to gain visibility through collaborations with her. By addressing gender and racial discrimination with an audience impacted by that reality, she makes her art more real, especially in an industry where many artists are managed by white people.

 From her 2013 album onward, she was breaking through. She associates herself with people who have quite disruptive thinking in the areas of communication, management, network strategies, and her own artistic and musical conception. The 

 album is an example. She establishes a dialogue with what is most avant-garde and makes it palatable to the public. I think this is a great achievement.

 show. The way the stage was designed, the celebration of diversity, and all the bodies of Black queer people dancing to “

, she’s not addressing us Afro-Brazilians. It’s definitely a bold album in which she not only works in country music — a genre that is forged in white supremacy — but also refers to figures such as 

, a Black artist who was made invisible in the ’60s and ’70s by the country music business, which did not tolerate a Black female singer. Several country radio stations that don’t play Black artists were forced to play her music. So I think there are aspects of Beyoncé’s work that are very powerful. But I do feel that today, especially here in Brazil, there is little space for a critical discussion on Beyoncé like we just had without being canceled.

Why Is Beyoncé a Political Symbol in Brazil?

It’s morning again in America. Federal agents snatch students off the streets. The White House boasts of banishing hundreds of people to a Salvadoran prison. Head Start and domestic violence shelters await the chopping block. The Trump administration is repurposing antiracism into a grenade and lobbing it at the remnants of the welfare state. But regular people are providing the varied, creative, noncooperative opposition to the neo-fascist administrative takeover that we need.

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Bruna Rocha

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