Meeting the Goddess in Beyoncé's Lemonade
The following article is from a paper I wrote in 2016 focused on the individuation journey in Jungian psychology. It is an example of how artistic, cultural material expresses psyche. It also references the art of a pop culture icon, Beyoncé, to illustrate an archetypal psychological process.
Introduction: Race and Physicality of Feminine Individuation
In February 2016, Beyoncé released her new single, “Formation,” which quickly received praise, criticism, and incited fear from some as evidenced by a Saturday Night Live skit entitled, “The Day Beyoncé Turned Black” (Anderson, 2016). In April 2016, Beyoncé followed up with the release of her visual album entitled, Lemonade, which evokes themes of the Middle Passage, the African Diaspora, slavery and “Black Woman Magic” (Thompson, 2016; Vernallis, 2016). Lemonade is more than a music video (it is almost an hour long), and the use of evocative imagery, poetry, and the sheer number of collaborators speaks to this (18 producers, 7 directors). Lemonade is markedly about the intersectionality of Black Feminism (Thompson, 2016) and, as a result, some viewers argue that commentary by white people should be curbed since it is not “for us”… as Scoble (2016) says, “It’s not for you, Becky” (para.1) (Becky being a reference to a white woman).
Thus, with an attempt to not whitewash or ignore the “Blackness” of the powerful visual experience that is Lemonade, I will attempt to explore this visual album through a Jungian lens as a representation of the feminine individuation process, as an encounter with shadow, and as an expression of an emerging chthonic, feminine god image.
Jung (1963/1989) discussed his exploration of alchemy in connection to the individuation process and found that the vessel, or krater, of transformation is specifically feminine; and he explained, “The krater is a feminine principle which could find no place in Freud’s patriarchal world” (p. 201). And the footnote by Jaffé in Jung (1989) was even more descriptive,
The krater was a vessel filled with spirit, which the Creator-god sent down to earth so that those who strove for higher consciousness might be baptized in it. It was a kind of uterus of spiritual renewal and rebirth. The parallel to this in Jung’s psychology is the inner transformation process known as individuation (p. 201).
In essence, feminine individuation occurs not in a spiritual dimension detached from the body, but within the body as vessel. I do not believe we can discuss feminine individuation without consideration of the bodily experiences of women (and people across the gender spectrum) and, so, considering a Black woman’s journey is going to be inherently different from that of a white woman’s, based on how she is able and unable to move through the world and her experience of her own physicality—this is why being colorblind is naïve and dangerous. With these considerations in mind, I hope to honor our diversity of experience and the inevitability of mistake making in this process.
Lemonade and Feminine Individuation
Like anything rich, Lemonade gets more complex with every viewing. On one level, Lemonade is a story of a woman who suspects her husband is cheating on her and is coming to terms with her intuition, rage, and love. At the end, the couple reconciles and they move into a new relationship together. Yet, based on the number of collaborators, the specifically almost all-Black-women cast, and use of references to the tragedy of being Black in America (police brutality, slavery, Hurricane Katrina, for example) —we have a sense that we are not simply viewing Beyoncé’s personal inner psychological process of heartbreak. Rather, viewers are receiving a glimpse of an archetypal process, a collective experience of feminine individuation, and a divination of the Black woman reminiscent of Jung’s reading of Job (Jung, 1973).
Lemonade is a journey that leads us through the chapters entitled “Intuition,” “Denial,” “Anger,” “Apathy,” “Emptiness,” “Loss,” “Accountability,” “Reformation,” “Forgiveness,” “Resurrection,” “Hope,” and ends with “Redemption.” These chapters mimic the mythic descent of the initiate, Inanna, as she descends to the underworld to meet Ereshkigal. In her description of Inanna’s journey to the underworld, Perera (1981) described the process of individuation in mythological terms,
The implication for the modern woman is that only after the full, even demonic, range of affects and objectivity of the dark feminine is felt and can a true, soul-met, passionate and individual comradeship be possible between woman and man as equals. Inanna is joined to a separated from her dark ancestress-sister, the repressed feminine. And that, with Ninshubur’s and Enki’s and Dumuzi’s help, brings forth Geshtinanna—a model of one who can take her stand, hold her own value, and be lovingly related to the masculine as well as directly to her own depths; a model of one who is willing to suffer humanly, personally, the full spectrum that is the goddess (p. 94).
This description could be an outline for Lemonade’s storyline—the descent of a modern woman into the “demonic” realm of sensation, knowing, and unknowing, which transforms the initiate and allows her to emerge as even more human and even more divine than before her descent. This journey leads to a confrontation with shadow, engagement with the unconscious, and a reckoning with the physicality of the feminine individuation process through the visual album.
Commencement of Individuation Journey
Lemonade opens with images of decaying buildings and shifts to Beyoncé on stage then standing in a field wearing a black hoodie (an allusion to the shooting of an unarmed Black teen, Trayvon Martin, by police in 2012). As the album begins, we hear Beyoncé singing about her suspicions that her lover has cheated on her in the song, “Pray You Catch Me.” It becomes clear through the symbolic visuals—hoodie, hair wrap, and landscape of twisting trees in swampy Louisiana, Gothic dress—that we are seeing a story that transcends the trope of the betrayed woman.
The images and voiced-over poetry are powerful, evocative, and mysterious. We have a sense that Lemonade is not at all what we thought it would be, much like the sensation when our unconscious begins to merge into consciousness; nothing is what it seems, and we are entering an archetypal process Von Franz (1964) explained, “The actual process of individuation—the conscious coming-to-terms with one’s own inner center (psychic nucleus) or Self—generally begins with a wounding of the personality and the suffering that accompanies it” (p. 169). This “call” of intuition in the video leads next to a scene in which Beyoncé is standing on a ledge of a tall building; she edges forward, and falls, releasing herself, arms outstretched, into the darkness as a form of self-sacrifice to her own unconscious. Whitmont (1969) explained the importance of this self-initiated crucifixion,
But that which supports life also crucifies us; salvation and the fullness of life may also come through loss or renunciation of what had appeared to be the only life—the life under the ego’s conscious will, devoted to the satisfaction of its demands (p. 88).
We have entered a paradox of individuation—death and life are linked and give existence to each other. This scene of suicide is potent in that to surrender one’s conscious life to that of the unconscious is necessary to prevent spiritual death.
Descent to the Unconscious
After her self-sacrifice, the next chapter, “Denial,” opens with Beyoncé underwater, floating in a bedroom. She sees herself, sleeping. Following the fall from conscious “awakeness” in the previous scene, we encounter the unconscious through dreamtime. As Beyoncé watches herself sleep, we hear the poetry of Somali-British poet, Warshan Shire, describing the attempts made to silence the Self, the force that guides the process of individuation, “I tried to change. Closed my mouth more, tried to be softer, prettier, less awake” (Carter, et al. & Carter, et al. 2016). We then see Beyoncé writhing in the water as though possessed as we hear the ritualized attempts of a woman in patriarchy to prevent the emergence of this knowing,
I whipped my own back and asked for dominion at your feet. I threw myself into a volcano. I drank the blood and drank the wine. I sat alone and begged and bent at the waist for God. I crossed myself and thought I saw the devil. I grew thickened skin on my feet, I bathed in bleach, and plugged my menses with pages from the holy book, but still inside me, coiled deep, was the need to know ... Are you cheating on me? (Carter, et al. & Carter, et al. 2016)
In this scene of “Denial,” we hear the attempts of the psyche to stay above water, to not slip into the depths of the unconscious through specifically the taming of the physical body. “Plugging menses” and “bathing in bleach” speak to the repression of the Black feminine body, and this denial of the body, desire, and sexuality is a long-held tool to prevent the emergence of the feminine psyche into wholeness. Von Franz (1964) seemed to speak directly to this scene: “One sometimes feels that the unconscious is leading the way in accordance with a secret design. It is as if something is looking at me, something that I do not see but that sees me ” (p. 164). We hear, that despite the attempts at restriction and silence, the Self is working, guiding, refusing to allow the initiate to thwart her descent.
This scene abruptly changes as we burst through the canal of denial with a rush of water, as Beyoncé bursts through a columned building into the streets of New Orleans in a mermaid-esque, yellow dress, embodying the wild water goddess herself, Oshun, an African Orisha (Roberts & Downs, 2016). In this scene, we hear Beyoncé questioning the impossibility of femininity in the lyrics of “Hold Up,” “What’s worse, lookin’ jealous or crazy, jealous or crazy?” (Carter, et al. & Carter, et al. 2016) all while smashing cars, store windows, and fire hydrants with a devilish smile and dancing. This is the paradox of the feminine: the “crazy,” destructive force encased in beauty, grace, and sensuality. It is this paradox that, as a woman (and perhaps more so as a Black woman), seems to be impossible in a patriarchal world, yet is articulated in this scene of goddess unleashed. This is when the divination of the human starts to unfold.
Underworld: Meeting the Dark Goddess
The next chapter, “Anger,” opens by leading us down a dark stairwell, with Shire’s poetry accompanying us, saying:
If it's what you truly want,
I can wear her skin over mine.
Her hair over mine,
Her hands as gloves,
Her teeth as confetti,
Her scalp, a cap.
Her sternum—my bedazzled cane,
We can pose for a photograph, all three of us,
Immortalized.
You and your perfect girl (Carter, et al. & Carter, et al. 2016).
There is a sense that we are about to see what is underneath the external construction, the carefully organized persona that holds within it something far darker and less picture-ready—the personal and collective shadow of the feminine.
A dark corridor leads down into a basement, where we see Black women in white moving together in a ritualized fashion. We eventually see two versions of Beyoncé. One is her wearing a necklace in the shape of an ankh, the Egyptian symbol of life, moving around a large SUV, confronting the camera (and viewer) as her lover. The other version is Beyoncé in a red dress—red being the color of sacrifice—with her hair down, sitting in a ring of fire. This is not a human Beyoncé. We are encountering the personal shadow of a woman betrayed while we are witnessing the collective feminine shadow of a deity relegated to the basement of collective consciousness.
Referring to Ereshkigal, Perera (1981) explained a similar entity that we see Lemonade in this basement garage,
She is the energy banishing itself into the underworld, too awesome to behold—like primal childhood experiences and the darkness of the moon…And she holds the wisdom of that isolation and bitterness. She is receiver of all, yet adversary and death-dealing inevitable victor (p. 23).
We feel Ereshkigal in this scene as we see the suffering of a human woman facing her pain, which is a specifically feminine rite of passage: “She [Ereshkigal] reminds us that many of the great goddesses suffer…They do not avoid suffering, but face into it, and express its reality” (Perera, 1981, p. 36). The “Anger” chapter of Lemonade depicts a rite of passage through suffering of the human and divine aspects that women know with their first encounter with physical pain in menstruation, then childbirth or miscarriage or termination.
Right after a screen flashes the words “GOD IS GOD AND I AM NOT” we hear Beyoncé sing, “Uh, this is your final warning/ You know I give you life/ If you try this shit again/ You’re going to lose your wife” (Carter, et al. & Carter, et al. 2016). In his book on the human shadow, Bly (1988) explained that the repression of the “Yin” side of life leads to a spiritual death (p. 11). We are being warned that this fierce and wild aspect of the psyche has the power to destroy. The story moves to the next chapter, “Apathy,” starting with a poem referencing the death of the singer from heartbreak, “Now what are you going to say at my funeral now that you’ve killed me?” This is indicative of the no-promises stance of initiation and a pattern of trauma. No one is promised life after an experience of touching the goddess or after a trauma, yet spiritual death is certain without this engagement with the feminine, the life-giving and taking, Ereshkigal.
The Objective Feminine
As the story continues to unfold in “Apathy,” we see Beyoncé on a bus, with a row of young women in body paint and simultaneously reclined in a plantation-like home with Serena Williams dancing beside her. The song that characterizes this chapter is “Sorry” and describes the singer’s apathetic attitude in leaving her lover—she is exceptionally “not sorry.” Beyoncé is moving from engagement with the rage of Ereshkigal to the “Eyes of Death” stare that Inanna encounters when she is face-to-face with the goddess in the underworld (Perera, 1981, p. 30). Perera quoted Jung, explaining,
There is an ‘aspect of hatred…[which] one would describe in Western philosophical terms as an urge or instinct toward individuation,’ for its function is to destroy participation mystique by separating and setting apart an individual who had previously merged, identical with loved ones (p. 31).
Once again we see Beyoncé embody the cold objectivity of the goddess that is largely “unfeminine” in Western consciousness—that a woman could be cold, unrelated and uncaring is a confrontation with the coolness of the “Eyes of Death” of Ereshkigal. This encounter with her own “apathy” or uncaring is vital in the emergence into wholeness despite how countercultural it is. This chapter reveals yet another aspect of this emerging feminine god image that is more multivariate than a kind, complacent, and generous patriarchal virgin-mother goddess.
In this chapter of Lemonade we are visually reminded of Egyptian queen Nefertiti, as Beyoncé draws reference through her tall crown-like stacked hair as she sits armless and barely moving, confronting the camera warning of her impending departure singing, “He better call Becky with the good hair” (Carter, et al. & Carter, et al. 2016). “Becky” being a cultural reference to a white woman, the ending of the chapter leaves us with a sense that the “good girl,” the “White girl” with the “good hair” is not to be found here. This is not the tame aspect of the feminine that conforms to social norms and expectations regardless of the many centuries of exploitation, oppression, and repression she has faced.
Sacrificial Pain as Power
As the chapter turns from “Apathy” to “Emptiness,” we see a group of black women walking naked, hair piled high, through a field with a quality of purpose and ceremony—we are being taken to worship, or, perhaps, to be sacrificed. The video then leads us back to the goddess in the dark basement, sitting in a ring of fire, dressed in red, wearing an ornate facial jewelry and headdress. In the myth of Inanna, this is the moment when Ereshkigal impales Inanna by a phallus-like stake. Perera (1981) explained the importance of this moment of suffering as “a primal way” in the underworld,
It is a sacrifice of activity which can lead even to rebirth and illumination when it is accepted as a way to let be. It suggests presence at its darkest level…Such raw, impersonal, though potentially initiating miseries are Ereshkigal’s domain (p. 36).
This moment of emptiness and loss is an initiating experience that, if heeded, can lead to an embrace of feminine power. However, there are risks for the human woman, as Perera (1981) cautioned, to try to fill this void with a human man, with a literal phallus, instead of turning to the dark goddess and cultivating her own wholeness, “She can lose her own soul in the bliss of melting into her lover” (p. 39). As we re-encounter this dark red goddess in the video, we are reminded of blood, sexuality, and suffering as a primary means of feminine individuation through voiced-over poetry,
Tills the blood in and out of uterus.
God was in the room when he said to the woman,
‘I love you so much;
Wrap your legs around me,
Pull me in, pull me in, pull me in.’
Sometimes when he’d have her nipple in his mouth, she’d whisper,
‘Oh my god.’
That, too, is a form of worship (Carter, et al. & Carter, et al. 2016).
In this chapter we are merging with the dark goddess, herself, her own Yang potentiality through sexuality, suffering, and the enchantment of the body.
Lemonade continues into “Loss” and we are introduced to further layers of the demonic goddess. We hear, “Every fear, every nightmare anyone has ever had” (Carter, et al. & Carter, et al. 2016). We are in the red-tinted land of the dark feminine as Beyoncé sings “Six Inch Heels,” “Goddamn, she murdered everybody and I was her witness” (Carter, et al. & Carter, et al. 2016). We see the singer alternating between a shadowed car, dancing on stage, on a bed, and hauntingly, swinging a red light bulb in a dark room. The chapter ends with Beyoncé walking down a burning hallway and concludes with an image of her standing with a group of women, dressed in a suit, in front of a burning house. The implication is that the singer has embraced her dark feminine and has claimed her strength as Perera (1981) explained: “For until the demonic powers of the dark goddess are claimed, there is no strength in the woman to grow from daughter to an adult who can stand against the force of the patriarchy in its inhuman form” (p. 41). Perhaps this a “successful” initiation for this woman, having moved through suffering, loss, and embracing her own dark power.
Embrace of the Masculine: Depotentiating the Father
The tone of the video shifts quickly and drastically from the darkness of the underworld initiation in the next chapter, “Accountability,” as we see daylight, hear birds chirping, and see a young girl walking toward a house then jumping on a bed. This chapter blends generations, mother-daughter-father-husband. We see clips of “real people” and hear their voices. The poetry of this chapter asks questions about men and masculinity, “Did he bend your reflection? Did he make you forget your own name?” (Carter, et al. & Carter, et al. 2016). We are asked to reconcile a culturally constructed masculinity through examination of an idealized “father” in order to reclaim the animus—the masculine energy in a woman. This is one of few chapters that features men, and the song, “Daddy Lessons,” is a journey of looking at the ideals of Father and integrating masculinity in a culture that embodies an ill version of this energy. We hear this in the song, “When trouble comes to town/ And men like me come around/ Oh, my daddy says shoot”. Perera (1981) explained this moment of the feminine initiation, “When she can look behind the façade of the idealized father as model, a woman can begin to see the human fragility which it concealed, and she can then be free of the compelling magnetism of the ideal” (p. 52). This is the moment of depotentiating the father, and is a moment of grief as we see Beyoncé at the end of the chapter crying, curled on the Astroturf of the Superdome, now infamous for its refuge and trauma during Hurricane Katrina.
The animus, in this stage of the video, is in what Von Franz (1964) described as the final stage of manifestation of this masculine archetype within women,
The animus is the incarnation of meaning. On this highest level he becomes (like the anima) a mediator of the religious experience whereby life acquires new meaning. He gives the woman spiritual firmness, an invisible inner support that compensates for her outer softness (pp.206-207).
We see this depicted as Beyoncé and a group of women step into the water of a lake, raise their arms together, and engage in a baptism or ceremony. The scene is interspersed with flashes of witch references—women posed on chairs, a face-painted Beyoncé rotating across the screen, and then a burst of women encircling the singer as though in a moment of witchcraft. This is the return to a pagan, feminine spirituality that is communal, nature-bound, and embodied. This is also when we see more of the emergence of the feminine god-image—one who has been initiated by her own evil capacities and returns to nature and the human world and has a “spiritual firmness” to her.
Rebirth
In the next chapter, “Forgiveness,” the ceremony continues and we hear poetry: “Baptize me/ Now that reconciliation is possible/ If we’re going to heal, let it be glorious/ One thousand girls raise their arms/ Do you remember being born?” (Carter, et al. & Carter, et al. 2016) We see Beyoncé washed ashore, covered in netting, referencing the goddess of love and sex born from sea foam—Aphrodite. After the long, slow journey through individuation, rebirth is possible. She says, “Are you thankful/ For the hips that cracked/ For the deep velvet of your mother/ And her mother?/ There is a curse that will be broken” (Carter, et al. & Carter, et al. 2016). The song that begins is “Sandcastles” and speaks to the power of love and reconciliation. This is the psyche in a new manifestation and the feminine in a new experience of love. The following chapter, “Resurrection,” speaks directly to the power of love in raising the next generation, as we see a group of women gathering for a picture. The speaker asks, “How are we supposed to lead our children to the future? What do we do? How do we lead them? Love. L-O-V-E. Love”. These words are not the words of the uninitiated woman, of a woman who has not met her own evil, who has not descended to the depth of grief with Ereshkigal. This love has a taste of a woman initiated, standing in her wisdom and spiritual power.
Continuing “Resurrection,” we hear, “You are terrifying and strange and beautiful” and as the song “Forward” begins, we see images of Black women holding pictures of Black men who have been murdered. Trayvon Martin's mother, Sybrina Fulton; Eric Garner's mother, Gwen Carr; and Michael Brown's mother,Lezley McSpadden, among others, sit holding pictures of their sons (Zeichner, 2016). Moving forward will not mean denying, forgetting, or refusing history. Rather, it will be a resurrection, as the final spoken word of this chapter is, “Magic”: the alchemy of transformation, healing, and rebirth.
Dreaming Forward
The final two chapters are what I believe Jung meant when he wrote that we must “dream the myth on” (Perera, 1981, p. 93), in that we need a new mythology for this emerging feminine consciousness. As Perera suggested, the mythology of Innana and Ereshkigal go so far, as do the concepts of Jungian psychology, and then we must descend again, surrender again, and live a myth forward. “Hope” and “Redemption” tell the story of birth and continuation of life. We hear poetry referencing a dream of a birth, “I wake as the second girl crawls head-first up my throat, a flower blossoming out of the hole in my face” (Carter, et al. & Carter, et al. 2016). The songs “Freedom” and “All Night” tell the story of these chapters—that is one of uncompromised longing for freedom and one that is dependent on the alchemy of turning lemons into lemonade, of trauma into peace, wholeness, and wisdom. We hear a recitation of a recipe for lemonade,
Grandmother, the Alchemist,
You spun gold out of this hard life,
Conjured beauty from the things left behind,
Found healing where it did not live,
Discovered the antidote in your own kitchen,
Broke the curse with your own two hands (Carter, et al. & Carter, et al. 2016).
In this poem, we hear the process of individuation, the magic of the feminine growth into wholeness—the journey to wholeness is nothing short of alchemy—the process of turning pain into a reason to live.
Lemonade ends with the song “All Night” and shows Beyoncé walking at dusk as flashes of home videos play between clips as she sings, “Boy nothing real can be threatened/True love breathes salvation back into me/ With every tear came redemption/ And my torturer became my remedy” (Carter, et al. & Carter, et al. 2016). This final song speaks to the ascent-descent journey of feminine individuation, of the alternating of energies of yin-yang, as Perera (1981) described,
But as the goddess is also matter, there is no stasis and no eternity of form possible for material life. We must gain our eternity in another way, not by clinging to the embodied identities we call heroic ideals. We must go beyond Gilgamesh’s and the patriarchal ego’s denigration of the goddess as fickle and learn to serve her rather as inconstant. This is the primary psychological task to which our age is called (p.89).
So this was the power of Lemonade (Carter, et al. & Carter, et al. 2016) in my personal life—a visual portrayal of the dark feminine, the shadow, and the animus being met by a human woman who was, thus, transformed. We learn to embrace the pathologized cycles of femininity, confront the repressed objectivity of the dark goddess within, and learn how to harness the long-incubated pain, suffering, and rage within the feminine psyche in order to emerge as Woman. Whole. Powerful. What else could this world be asking for or need in a time of political, economic, and climatic uncertainty? Women engaged in their individuation journey are the antidote to a world that has forgotten that it, too, came from the Feminine, Nature, Mother, Mater, and Goddess.
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