An Open Letter to Beyoncé at the 2017 Grammys: How Fucking DARE YOU?!

“Beyoooooooooooncé!!!!!!” *hysterical sobbing* Y’all I’m still trying to recover from the WORSHIP Beyoncé took an undeserving Grammys’ audience to Sunday night. She gave us Mortal Kombat finishing move braid realness on the Formation tour. She did a better Phoenix saga than Bryan Singer could ever hope to at the BET Awards. She brought the ultimate shade to the MAGA Music Awards, I mean the COUNTRY Music Awards with a jeweled white ballgown, propped up titties, body jewelry, transcendent vocals, a full-ass country orchestra, and the damn Dixie Chicks! Hell, she kicked off Black History Month by announcing she’s bringing two more carefree Black babies into this world. Then Sunday. Sunday. Sunday, February 12th in the year of our Lord 2017, in the middle of the 59th annual GRAMMY Awards, Beyoncé SHUT THAT SHIT DOWN! Her pregnant ass, cooking up two whole fucking human beings, stepped up on that stage and told e’rybody else to just go the hell home. It was a wrap. A damn WRAP. Whew! WHEW!

*sets timer* *DEEP INHALE*Beyoncé ouchea looking like the patron saint of the holy trinity of #BlackGirlMagic, #BlackExcellence, & the best of Black Twitter. Looking like the statue of Mary in the Blackest of AME churches. Looking like she bout to greet you at the pearly gates. Looking like she shoulda stepped outta the doors at the end of Dogma and killed Ben Affleck. Looking like a custom Kehinde Wiley commission. Looking like going to Popeye’s on a Friday after work when you had to ski…