A moment from Beyoncé's Homecoming: The baton girl turns the Party

I, as have many others, have watched Beyoncé's Homecoming. I've watched that shit three times now. But there's one moment from the history making set that I keep going back to and watching over and over. It's a moment that doesn't even feature Beyoncé. And it's this moment right here.

The baton girl. Who the hell is she? Because I'mma need details to send her a court order for reparations following the loss of my wig. She was amazing. And that arrangement and rendition of "Party" was ex-fucking-ceptional. "Party" was one of my favourite songs on Beyoncé's 4 album. But after this Homecoming version, I can't even fuck with it anymore. Only this version now.

Part of what makes Homecoming such a great show is that it's bigger than Beyoncé and she knows it. Homecoming was much more than just a vehicle for her. It was a moment of representation and truth, and her using her position in Pop to put forth a moment that not many others could.

There are so many moments in Homecoming much like the Baton girl's wig genocide, where the theme steals the show, the dancers steal the show, the re-arrangements of her songs steal the show, the energy on the stage steals the show, the crowd soaking up every moment steals the show. Beyoncé is of course the star and the nucleus of everything we're seeing and experiencing, but there's a level of relinquishment about Homecoming where she willingly steps back. There is no ego here. Homecoming is more than just a celebration of Beyoncé. It's a celebration of womanhood. It's also a celebration of manhood. It's a celebration of black excellence. It's a celebration of unity. It's a celebration of perseverance. And Beyoncé just happens to embody all of these things and allows herself to be the vessel that allows for those around her to feel that they're all of these things to or that they can be.

Homecoming is inspirational and makes you feel like that could be you up on that stage playing a drum, clashing a cymbal, playing a trumpet, poppin' your pussy in a hoody and fringed boots or Kappa Alpha Psi stomping in an overall. Now excuse me whilst I go order me an iridescent body suit from ASOS and book myself into baton practice.