BUT WHAT IF SHE FLIES? How Beyonce & Jay-Z Helped Me Become a Better Parent

By Arika Parr

I have an 8-year-old daughter. Last year, when she was in first grade, unbeknownst to me, she signed up to be Wendy in her class production of Peter Pan and won the part. When she told me she would be one of the main characters in the play, I had to gather myself. I had so many feelings. I was excited, proud, and maybe a little anxious. Even nervous. Look, I’m an older mom with helicopter tendencies and a hint of perfectionism. Oh, drama!

I was happy about her getting the part, but I was also worried. I didn’t want her to get in front of an audience and forget a line, fumble her footwork, or freeze at the number of eyes staring back at her. I dreaded the thought of having to console her if it didn’t go well. Her tears. Her disappointment. Her failure. How would I comfort her? How could mommy fix that?

I felt the spirit of Jonetta Patton seep into my bones. Joe Jackson, is that you? Matthew & Tina Knowles, y’all got me? Mom-a-ger mode was activated. I felt like I needed to help my daughter with this journey, like the aforementioned parents, had helped their celebrity kids. They all used different tactics and took different paths, but if we measure success by their famous children…. their management skills helped launch their kids into decorated careers and seemingly amazing lives.

I found a random yardstick lying in my disheveled office amongst my work-from-home papers, candles, books, and my daughter’s crafts. The yardstick, somewhat of a found treasure, became a key tool in this part of our story. I told my daughter that I was creating the Mademoiselle Mommy School of Acting to help us…I mean her get ready for the play. (Mind you, I’ve never acted a day in my life). 

I used found yardstick to tap on our hardwood floor to get my daughter’s attention while we ran her lines. I waved the yardstick in the air when I wanted her to move her body more and tapped the floor again and again if she made a mistake. (I was very much giving Debbie Allen in her FAME era). I reminded my daughter to speak loudly, clearly, and slowly. I even spoke in a horrible French accent to drive home the mademoiselle part. I kept it fun and cute, but I was also serious about my daughter doing well. When she grew tired, I reminded her that she had to get it right, she had to do it with excellence. I told her that she had to do it so she would be proud of herself.

And it all paid off. She did so well. And I’m not just saying it because I’m her mom. Other parents and their families said she was dynamic. She sang every song, remembered all her lines, and spoke loudly, clearly, and slowly. She was perfect. It was all good, until months later I found myself being triggered by the most unsuspecting, unassuming circumstance or shall I say, person:

Blue Ivy Carter.

Beyonce’s Renaissance World Tour began in Summer 2023. The silver, the glitter, the tap, tap, tap on hardwood floors. Fans reveled in the era of The Pure/Honey Church Girl who won’t Break My Soul because I’m Cozy during this Summer Renaissance. Yasssss! Instagram reels and the RWT hashtag filled my timeline with Beyonce’s vocals, costumes, and a feature of Blue Ivy dancing during My Power. The song title says it all. Beyonce belts out lyrics that focus on protecting herself, and her family, celebrating her legacy, and her willingness to fight for it all. Blue Ivy came in at the perfect point, just as Beyonce sings:

this that bloodline

on the front line

ready for war

Blue was in position, poised to hit her choreography as the beat dropped right in sync with her mom dancing next to her. For me, watching another mom share the stage with her baby girl - dancing to that song, with those lyrics, during a time in my life when I was laser-focused on being a good mom and helping guide and develop my own daughter - was a beautiful moment, like an emotional crescendo. It was a gift to witness.

When the videos first started circulating around social media of Blue Ivy’s performance, some of the reviews were not nice. Adult men and women harshly criticized the 11-year-old’s performance. I saw video rants and read insulting comments ranging from “Who’s paying all that money to see some stiff little girl dancing?” saying Blue was “untalented” with “no rhythm” and dances like a “robot”.

And yet Blue persisted. Show after show. City after city. In front of hundreds of thousands of people with high expectations, and a Ticketmaster receipt to prove it. Blue Ivy came back out each time and danced. And with each video recap, she got better and better. Her growth and confidence were palpable. She started feeling herself and added her own little pre-teen, Blue Ivy twist to her performances. She smiled with pride. She stood in her own pre-pubescent power. She even garnered her own fans. I think they call themselves the Ivy League. The audience cheered for her, some even crying as they watched their internet niece and social media cousin rock out.

I watched Blue progress and pondered about her parents’ thought process. Did Blue have to convince Jay to let her perform? Was Beyonce ever concerned that she just wasn’t ready, yet? What about the critics? These are the same people who spewed vitriol against Blue Ivy when she was just a toddler because her hair wasn’t styled the way they thought it should be. How did Jay and Beyonce plan to protect her from them? Did Mama Knowles advise against it? And was it worse to protect Blue from criticism or hold her back from the opportunity to at least try??

Her parents gave her the chance to fail or succeed. They allowed her chance after chance to fail forward while she tried this new thing out. Videos caught glimpses of Jay-Z in the audience, wearing Renaissance concert merch and supporting his family. I witnessed Beyonce on stage being the consummate performer, but also the ever-present mama. Her gaze was glued to Blue Ivy. She gave space for the audience aunties to cheer for Blue. She beamed with love and pride every time Blue performed.

Watching the videos of Blue’s progress is similar to watching a time-lapse video of a sunrise. Every frame gets brighter and brighter until there is just pure light from the darkness. It gave me more meaning to “trust the process”.

The way Blue’s parents trusted the process to allow her to try out this new thing in front of the world was inspiring to me as a parent. The freedom of a little Black girl expressing herself in a way that wasn’t polished or up to a standard, except her own, was a lesson for me. As Black people, it’s long been said and proven, that there’s a weight of expectation placed on us, that we’ve always had to be more, do more, be better, and do better just to be in the running with our White counterparts. And to add to that, I remind you that I identify as a recovering perfectionist, so my own expectations can be paralyzing.

But THIS was none of THAT. Blue was gifted the opportunity to just be. Jay and Bey provided an insulated space for Blue, albeit dead smack in front of everyone to witness and criticize. So, if Blue needed to fall, she would fall softly, short of any bruises, and always surrounded by love. She was given freedom. I thought of how Jay and Bey let Blue go in those moments and the courage it took for them to do so. 

That made me question myself as a parent. Was I really allowing my daughter to be free? I was excited for my daughter to be lead in her school play, but I’d be lying if I wasn’t afraid for her, too. And if I am being honest, the Mademoiselle Mommy School of Acting was for me as much as it was for her. I was the one who was scared she might mess up. What if she tried hard, but….it wasn’t good enough? How would I be? How would I feel? Would she need consoling, or would I? 

Of course, I know that as a fan of Jay-Z, Beyonce, and Blue, this is a parasocial relationship. I know them, they do not know me. But even in this one-sided relationship, I have been enlightened and encouraged as a parent. I can’t protect my daughter from everything or everyone. I can’t protect her from failure. I even know failure is necessary for growth. But, I damn sure don’t want her to feel like I “protected” her out of her opportunities to try, to shine, to rise, to fly. 

There is freedom waiting for you, on the breezes of the sky, and you ask, “What if I fall?” Ob, but my darling, What if you fly? — Erin Hanson