Beyonce Knowles / “Why Don’t You Love Me" by Melina Matsoukas
LA PRISON DE MA MÉRE.
The clock had not even struck noon and mother was exhausted. She continued her seemingly never ending ritual in her boudoir. She pulled, plucked, and prodded. She painted, covered, and embellished her already perfect appearance. The most beautiful woman in her hamlet, and arguably the world, was haunted by the thought of projecting anything less than the idealized image of perfection she toiled so mightily to conjure. At times, in earnest and hard fought exasperation, she would reluctantly admit defeat as she buckled under the pressure of confronting a world outside of her safe abode. She would acquiesce to her self-appointed imprisonment with her perfectly coiffed hair and her impeccably manicured nails while retreating behind a veil of cascading mascara. The earth turned and was once more robbed of her presence. Tomorrow would be another opportunity. Mother needed to see a bright spot of perfection in the mirror before she left. Something intangible or a combination thereof, had to catch her eye in order for her to be an acceptable offering before this plane she inhabited. Perfectly situated bangs, a piece of jewelry that accented her DKNY blouse just so, a jacket that embodied and represented the image she conjured of herself. All elements combined formed an idea of who she was; and with that, she was ready.