Black girls have always been unique. This uniqueness has led to us being cozy in our skin only for it to be ripped away by white supremacy which only wants humility and lowliness from Black girls. For many of us, this is our church experience. For many of us, Beyoncé’s ‘Church Girl’ reminded us of our freedom to be who we are in this world, moving beyond the limitations placed on us at an early age.

Two years have passed since the release of Beyoncé’s liberatory 7th studio album, ‘Renaissance’ on July 29, 2022. In that time, ‘Church Girl’ a song on the album continues the fight for freedom from Western Christianity which harms many Black girls turned Black women because of puritanical roots that do not hold Black girls’ complexity and multi-faceted being. 

The liberation anthem invites Black girls to feel again in a society filled with systems that cater to white supremacy and constantly take Black girls out of their bodies.

Beyoncé’s ‘Church Girl’ starts with a snippet from The Clark Sisters' ‘Center of Thy Will.’ The altered track begins with the words “Lord, place me. Lord, place me. I want to be centered, I wanted to be centered, in thy will.” The phrase “will” is then looped into a New Orleans-bounce beat, created by the iconic bounce music pioneer, DJ Mimi, and played throughout the song as Beyoncé sings from what Black girls know is a personal place. A place where Black girls' freedom and the church are often oil and water. We know what it means to be pushed to mesh with what is deemed “respectable” and “honorable” unto God. And, often, these things are rooted in white supremacy that thrives on this or that, black or white thinking. 

Beyoncé’s ‘Church Girl’ is a freedom anthem for the Black girls who grew up in church being ostracized for who they were when they could not be bullied into conformity. For the little Black girls who eventually became Black women who knew who they were, lost themselves in public opinion, and found themselves again.

This isn’t the first time Beyoncé, who grew up in a Methodist church, has been scrutinized for having spiritual or Christian elements in her music. Others in Christian music have sometimes been ostracized for working with her, including her time in Destiny’s Child. 

Destiny’s Child was one of the groups that brought Black girls everywhere together. It was a meeting place between me and my friends who no longer went to church. It was a time for singing songs unrelated to our elementary and middle school lives. A space for dance routines where we would alter between Beyoncé, Kelly, and Michelle. A liberatory body of work after the other reminding Black girls that they have choices and are allowed boundaries.

One Sunday morning, I sat next to my mom as I finished getting ready for church watching the news because she told me that Destiny’s Child was on screen. Beyoncé, Kelly, and Michelle blended in a beautiful symphony singing, ‘Amen’–– a hymn known across Black churches in America. Later that morning, we attended our weekly church service in Compton, a nice drive from our home in South Central Los Angeles, to hear the praise team leader claim she could sing “Amen” better than Destiny’s Child on the news.

She began to sing. The other praise team members joined in. The church followed her lead. And while the Spirit was in that place as we sang, despite her obvious intentions to tear down, I always wondered why we limited the work of God. What made her a “real Christian” as she so boldly proclaimed? Why do we see people, who have the same church roots as we do, in such a judgmental way when they don’t cramp themselves into the boxes we’ve built for them?

For far too long the institution of Western Christianity has perpetuated violence against Black girls who don’t fit into the boxes pre-made for them.

This is far too often the reality of church girls who don’t fit the mold. The mold where we are suppressed in who we are, our personality reflecting that which makes everyone else around us comfortable as we lose who we are created to be. These church girls are often left to find community outside of the church they grew up in, at times the church as a whole, because they’re faced with “not like that” in a culture that beckons “come as you are.” 

It never stopped. In 2000, when Destiny’s Child sang ‘I Know I’ve Been Changed’, there was more criticism for the Black church girls. These Black church girls were on a stage in front of thousands singing with conviction. In that same year, Destiny’s Child collaborated with gospel group Mary Mary on their song “Good To Me”, track 10 on their first album. The criticism from the church followed as the group offered a different style to Christian music, and more to come because of the collaboration with rappers and Destiny’s Child. To them, rap and r’n b had no reason to be on a gospel album despite their Christian backgrounds and roots.

It’s now 2024, and ‘Church Girl’ has played a major role in liberating Black girls. A quick search on TikTok will prove it. The song itself has led women across the globe, specifically Black women, to feel free of the hurt that the church has caused us. For many, church hurt is still a distant understanding. Many have normalized what happens in the institution of the church, of Western Christianity because they do not know otherwise. Some have accepted it because those in power have more sway than those harmed. It is not normal to undergo teachings that suppress who you are weekly. 

For Beyoncé, I’m sure ‘Renaissance’ was an album that stirred in her Spirit for quite some time. I believe that she wrestled with it, cried, and sat with it because while the contents spilled onto marginalized groups, she grappled with the ways she’s been marginalized. How she’s been judged, looked down on, even left out. 

For us, for Black girls, it was liberatory to hear a Black woman with the attention on her that she has, tell us to be free. It was a song for the Black girls who had been called fast, who had been told they were too much or too little. Those who were told they were asking for too much. Those who were looked at with “Who do YOU think you are?” and “What makes YOU think YOU could do that?”

The sting comes at times. Healing is a journey we’ve subjected ourselves to because we know that we deserve what’s on the other side of our tears. For 3 minutes and 44 seconds, we have a chance to reset every time the darkness starts to creep in again under the disguise of care and true Christianity.

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Writer Bio:

Shonette Reed is the editor of Resolute Magazine.

Photo by Ante on pexels.com

Read this essay and more like it in Resolute Magazine’s Issue 4: Worthy