After "changing the world with that digital drop" by releasing her 5th LP BEYONCÈ out of nowhere in December 2013 and causing a frenzy, many wondered how pop priestess Beyoncè would follow up promotionally. The answer was simpler than imagined: put out a (presumed) 1st single and video spontaneously. On the eve of her Superbowl 50 appearance with Coldplay and Bruno Mars, came "Formation" (February 6). There is much to be praised and there's much to be disappointed by. "Formation" is delectably rich in black cultural symbols from the southern, New Orleans and LGBT communities, presenting them in an exalted space, as they should be. This is intertwined with references to some of the greatest post-2000 tragedies of the race, the Hurricane Katrina response and law enforcement violence. For example, voice-over audio from New Orleans social media figure Messy Mya (who was murdered in 2010) and bounce music originator Big Freedia is melded with images of a graffiti wall that reads "Stop Shooting Us," a black male child dancing in front of a cop-squad and Beyoncè laying atop a drowning police car. She proclaims "My daddy Alabama, mama Louisiana, you mix that Negro with that Creole-make[s] a Texas bamma, I like my baby['s] hair with baby hair and afros, I like my Negro nose with Jackson Five nostrils, earned all this money, but they never take the country out me; I got hot sauce in my bag, swag."
 
This "Say it out it loud, I'm black and I'm proud" (a James Brown anthem) moment is an important one, both at large and for Beyoncé. Something like this is rarely done in pop, an arena primarily focused on messages that can be absorbed by the general populous for the sake of commerciality; a populous that just so happens to be predominately white. Beyoncé could have initiated a charge for more of this in the genre and a creative shift for herself, as this is her most blatantly socio-political statement. In an atmosphere where racial tension and the challenging/questioning of blackness is back on front-page news, this kind of move to add to and further the discussion, and encourage pride in heritage is necessary and valued. That said, where "Formation" falls significantly short of its glory is in the most crucial place: the lyrics. Remove the aforementioned quote and all you have is overly-repetitious braggadocio that didn't require much brain-power to conceive and barely has anything to do with the point she was trying to convey. The song cannot stand on its own; the visuals did the heavy lifting. In music, visuals are meant to accentuate, not do all the speaking and work for you. If someone were to just read the lyrics or hear the track by itself (as some people I know did), the meaning could easily be lost in translation, defeating the entire purpose. Everyone knows that lyrics are the heartbeat of a piece; it's what stands no matter how or by whom a tune is delivered or performed. They're what's quoted and tattooed on bodies. Beyoncé took this powerful concept and rested it on ONE refrain; this occasion is too momentous to be effectuated in such a surface, half-done and lazy manner. Sam Cooke's "A Change is Gonna Come," Stevie Wonder's "Heaven Help Us All" and Nina Simone's "Young, Gifted and Black" (which all are still applicable today, unfortunately) are classic staples because they really tapped into the minority experience and the anguish of the period. Bey missed a 24-karat gold opportunity to give a millennial testimony; like, she could've actually talked about police brutality. She could've made it even more personal and addressed issues that have directly affected her, such as racial politics in the music industry or white feminism's ever-active attack on her and other black female icons. If we're going to "Say it Loud," let's really do it. 

By Jamaal D. Pittman, Contributing Writer
 
Remember the good old days when Fox's Empire was must-see TV? Well, you should, considering that it was only a few short months ago. It seems the show's production team didn’t receive the same memo we did that Empire was a highly anticipated, critical and commercial hit with an instantly green-lit 2nd season. Memos sometimes get lost in the mail, so I’ll give them the benefit of the doubt for now. It's getting harder to ignore, however, that the series has been struggling to find its groove since its return in September. Not since Desperate Housewives—a former ABC comedy-drama with a landmark 1st season—do I recall such a drastic sophomore slump. Don’t get me wrong; Housewives had flashes of brilliance throughout its 8-year run, but it never quite regained its footing after its game changer of a debut. The final 7 years were spent limping towards the finish line, and by the time the celebratory tape was crossed, no one really cared. So, in regards to Empire, who's experiencing a similar second-season jinx, let’s invoke the spirit of TLC’s Left Eye for this all-important question: How can a show achieve such massive success out of the gate and then fall off so quickly? Well, I’ve got 3 compelling answers, so get ready to do your math.
 
Misuse of Talent
Somewhere along the way, the show developed a frustrating penchant for underutilizing its core talent, often to prop up guest stars in meaningless, if not boring, roles. Yes, we all know that Taraji P. Henson, Terrence Howard, and their respective characters are exceptional, but there are gifted cast-members who aren't being properly used. Trai Byers’ turn as Andre Lyon can be powerful, layered and riveting, as long as the writers remember to give him something — anything — to do, besides be a pawn in Lucious’ game. Grace Gealey’s Anika, season 1’s standout supporting antagonist, has been reduced to a not-so-glorified extra, strapped to a whipping post as the writers invent shameful new ways to humiliate her. When she’s not twerking for deals, this supposedly savvy businesswoman is playing eager side piece to a 20-year-old rapper. I’ve lost count of how many literal and figurative doors “Boo Boo Kitty” has had slammed in her face this season, and she hasn’t even been on much. While I understand that villains are sometimes softened to be more endearing over the course of a show’s run, Anika seems to have undergone a full-on lobotomy. She’s hardly recognizable and the fire that made her so compelling as the girl we all loved to hate has been extinguished. Gealey has ability far beyond the material she’s received as of late, and it’s a shame that it's being wasted.
 
Payoffs That Fall Flat
Intriguing developments are resolved too quickly on this show, and their impact is forgotten within a few episodes. For example, the season 1 finale highlighted the murder of Vernon Turner and the arrest of Lucious Lyon. For any other series, that would've set up several compelling story arcs for the next season. Oh, but not Empire. Just a few episodes into season 2, Lucious uses extortion to secure his release, and Vernon’s corpse is used for shock value and slapstick humor, as its placed in a district attorney's car to scare the heebie-jeebies out of her. Empire is often referred to as a soap opera, but one of its fundamental problems is the absence of continuity and fluidity between episodes. The show could benefit greatly from employing the best tactics from every soap playbook: make the story build, make the people wait, and make the payoff worth it.

Fox's new series Empire made such an ineffaceable impression with audiences that it was renewed for a 2nd season 10 days after its premiere in January, broke ratings records and had weekly increases in viewership. The hip-hop answer to ABC's Nashville, Empire follows rags-to-riches divorced duo Lucious and Cookie Lyon (portrayed by Oscar nominees Terrence Howard & Taraji P. Henson) as they maintain their record label and wrangle their 3 eccentric, rivaling sons who are set to inherit it all. The company was started with drug money acquired by Cookie, for which she went to prison for 17 years. With that as the backdrop, of course there's been murder and all kinds of (deliciously soapy) debauchery. If the cast were predominately white, there wouldn't be much of a fuss about the unsavory, but since they're black...under the minority media microscope they go.

Racial minorities are still so stifled and underrepresented in mainstream television and film, that it's news to have a show like Empire (that also has a black director & co-creator) doing this well in primetime. Due to this issue, every program with a minority-preponderant cast (or even a lead like Scandal) that seeps through the cracks and soars has the responsibility of being a cultural envoy. The general feeling is if there are going to be few images of us, let those images be powerful, positive, truthful, propel our people forward and counter what those other people (i.e. racist whites) say we are. The thing is, opinions differ on what picture should step to the podium. For instance, The Cosby Show (1984-1992) uplifted many and broke the mold with its then-rare depiction of a united, middle-class black family, but was accused of avoiding candid discussions about race and not being relatable enough to the mass of broken and/or impoverished families. Despite assimilation being a focal point of Anthony Anderson's Black-ish, it's similarly charged with being sanitized, unrealistic and/or "white-washed." Conversely, Empire's been called stereotypical , "ghetto" and a disservice to the community, while supporters applaud its commentary on black familial taboos (ex. mental disorders & homosexuality) and are thrilled that characters from what's usually relegated as subversive counterculture are capturing America. When my father saw a trailer for Empire, he asked "Why does it have to be around the hip-hop industry? Why couldn't it be oil? That's [hip-hop] all black folks know how to do." What?! 1st of all, oil's already been done with Dallas. 2nd, when have you seen a hip-hop drama? 3rd, you didn't say "that's all white folks know how to do" when the country-centralized Nashville (a show he loves, by the way) premiered. I've heard and read other comments and questions like "Why did the Lyons have to come from the streets?," "Why does Cookie have to be so unrefined?," "Black-ish is too white," "Empire's a poisonous bad example," "There aren't enough series like Black-ish" and "There aren't enough series like Empire." Ugh! Why do we have to be so all-or-nothing, one-or-the-other with our media?!

You want truthful portrayals? Well, the truth is that there are thousands of black families (and many a rap mogul) from low-income neighborhoods that have engaged in criminal activity to attain resources for survival, but there are also many who live in suburbia. There are women like Clair Huxtable (The Cosby Show) and women like Cookie Lyon. I don't see why they can't co-exist on television like they do in real life. In my opinion, what's in the best interest of our culture as it relates to entertainment is to not operate in extremes. One of the multiple reasons it was (and is) so important to us to be onscreen, behind-the-camera and level the playing field in Hollywood is so we can display our talent, tell our stories and show who we really are, so let's create and accept broader characterizations and castings that reflect the vast collection of experiences, shapes, sizes and colors we have. No part of our kinship should be denied from seeing themselves on television; there's enough of that going around without us perpetuating it. Not only is variety more accurate to life, but it facilitates in contesting stereotypes and can demonstrate to our community that they can be flexible and that life isn't a stringent caste-system. There needs to be a balance. For every Clair, let there be a Cookie, and for every Clair and Cookie, let there be a Hannah Montana, "best of both worlds" persona or someone altogether different (ex. Annaliese Keating of How to Get Away with Murder).