As a forewarning, I would just like to say this is not an album review or critique. I am not well versed enough in the language of musicology, art history or hip-hop to even attempt to throw my hand in that pool. I am also a little terrified of hip-hop heads who seem all to willing to attack any who even dare have an opinion contra to their own, but I digress. This is a musing.

If you know me, and I mean, know me know me, you'll know that I stan for Beyoncé Giselle Knowles-Carter. Though I hate that term, it's true. I mean, I f*cks with her the long ways and the short ways. I own almost every single one of her albums - DC5 days included - and as I've grown, I've learned to appreciate the manner in which she and all who surround her maintain an air tight level of controlled privacy.

There have been no untoward scandals with her name attached that have not gone either purposely ignored or tersely explained in a well crafted PR message. And though she eschews interviews today (because, duh, she's Beyoncé and the girls are nosy), the media trained maven still finds a way to placate her more...enthusiastic fans with small snippets of her day to day life as a wife, mother, sister, friend and daughter.

Then came "Lemonade" the album and "4:44" the song.

I've always been a little wary about the manner in which I approach celebrity. Obviously, all celebrities are humans first - they eat, sleep, breathe, poop, experience heartbreak etc. in the exact same manner as Ray Ray from down the block. 

But then there's the other side, wherein the circumstances surrounding their chosen career path comes hand in hand with a level of celebration that objectifies and commodifies them - so much so you forget about their aforementioned humanity.

I think I forgot about Beyoncé and Jay-Z's humanity.

I was so busy praising them, their marriage, their family and their children - too preoccupied with placing them on pedestals boasting their grandeur and perceived perfection, I forgot that, much like everyone else, they too have their fair share of problems.

They're also ten times better at hiding it in the overshare era because their wealth does not come from selling themselves to me via some fake internet persona or brand.

To be completely honest, these musings came about after I had a very visceral reaction to the song "4:44". As the music played on and Jay-Z rapped about his infidelities and misgivings as a husband, father and man, I came to the realization that, no, Beyoncé and Jay-Z weren't speaking in general terms when they were rapping and singing about heartbreak, heartache, love and the destruction of trust in relationships - they were talking about themselves.

 

Despite the many hints and warnings, I had continued to deny any problems with this picture perfect couple because it was Beyoncé and Jay-Z: The Legendary Couple Who Never Had Any Problems Ever Because They Were Far Too Above Such Commonalities.

It is that same mentality, that same act of making monuments out of regular people that gets you in trouble when you one day wake up to realize your hero may actually be a villain.

Mind, they only become villains after the image you've forced upon them turns out to be untrue - and therein lies the problem.

Making monuments out of regular ass people will get your feelings hurt.

And yes, they fed and will continue to feed into the image we have all placed upon them, but wouldn't you?

Presenting only 25 percent of your true self while living under the scathing eyes of a quick-to-judge public seems like a smart way to keep some semblance of normality. Especially considering there are many analyzing your every move in the hopes of catching you deviating from what they consider normal, socially acceptable behavior.

I know my weirdly intrusive feelings of hurt will one day (maybe) subside. I'm not an active participant in their relationship, and they've obviously grown stronger as a couple, as a family and as private, human individuals.

However, it's a crazy place to be, feeling as though someone I look up to has let me down in the worst way, all the while remembering I do not know these people or anything about their private lives - like, at all, actually.

I'm hoping you understand the sentiment, though, and are empathetic to how this is a rather strange place to be mentally. I've been feeling as though my own trust has been betrayed, when, again I don't even know Jay-Z or Beyoncé outside of what they've been generous enough to offer.

I've been kept out for so long, feeding on photographs and clipped home videos - only to be let in and let down.

The mirror I've been forcing in front of them has shattered, and all that has been left behind are shards containing illusions and projections.

And that hurts, as silly as it sounds.

Never forget, in her 2013 documentary, Life Is But A Dream, Beyoncé iterated that all she owes the public is her music - that's what she signed up for when she decided to be an artist.

The entitlement to knowing every single aspect of her and her husband's private lives is really just fodder.

I admire the strength and vulnerability it takes for them to place their bleeding hearts out on silver platters for the world to dissect and greedily - sometimes even happily - consume.

That takes a lot of courage.

I'm not entirely sure where my point is headed, I just know that, for the moment, I'm mad at Jay-Z and maddeningly frustrated with and sad for Beyoncé at the moment.

I guess Jay-Z was right when he said in order to heal, you must reveal.

I just don't think I was prepared for it.