Janelle Monáe Made Me Wish I Was A Queer Black Woman

Dirty Computer Tour
@ The Queen Elizabeth Theatre in Vancouver, BC — June 12th, 2018

Janelle Monáe describes herself as "queer", "nonbinary", "bisexual", and "pansexual". I don't know what pronouns she prefers, so for this article I'm going to use she/her. But I don't care what she calls herself, because god damn she's got it goin' on. Holy smoke. This concert made me wish I was a queer black woman. I'm a cisgendered heterosexual white male…but yeah.

Janelle Monáe is one of the more interesting artists to emerge in the American pop music industry in recent years. A multitalented showwoman, she's a creative powerhouse not only musically—she sings, raps, and writes her own songs—but also as a dancer, film actress, and fashion trendsetter. She's also become a feminist icon through her art and public image, outspokenly supporting gender parity, sex-positivity, and LGBT rights, and opposing homophobia, transphobia, misogyny, and racism. Her style is grounded in R&B and soul music conventions but she puts her own unique spin on it, inhabiting the creative persona of an android in a dystopian science-fiction universe that serves as a metaphorical framework for both alienation and empowerment due to gender, sexual orientation, and ethnicity. As a fashionista, Monáe often sports tuxedoes, her hair styled in a flamboyant pompadour. Effortlessly transitioning from a budding new talent on the showbiz fringes to now blooming into a full-fledged superstar, Monáe has established herself as a compelling figure in contemporary American music. This is all to say I'd been looking forward to seeing her perform live in concert, and I finally got the chance at the Vancouver date of the tour for her Dirty Computer album, released a few months earlier.

My cousin brought me to the show as a surprise gift concert, and I was ecstatic when we entered the venue to discover that our tickets were for the floor. At the Queen Elizabeth Theatre the floor space in front of the stage is not very big, so the close proximity provided a cozy intimacy with Janelle and her band. After the starting act St. Beauty (a duo affiliated with Monáe's record label/music collective Wondaland Art Society), the lights opened to Ms. Monáe sitting on a throne, mounted on a platform with a few stairs reaching to the top—like a little stage on the actual stage. Four female dancers writhed around her, theatrically fawning as if she were some figure of worship. Monáe definitely radiated a queenly presence, decked out in military-themed garb with a black soldier's cap and red knee-high leather boots, black-and-white checkered tights, and a floor-length trenchcoat. She wore sunglasses with diamond-shaped lenses for most of the show and occasionally changed clothing items, including hats; from an officer's cap to a red beret, and even donning a fez at one point—resembling a Middle-Eastern or African empress, while her dancing entourage wriggled and bowed before her.

The dancers likewise changed attire, matching Janelle's outfits with their own less elaborate and more scant versions which were always skin-tight so as to continuously showcase their incredible bodies. With the physicality of cartoon superheroines and attitudes of righteous female empowerment, they all embodied feminine sexiness to the utmost with their unabashed booty-shaking, pelvis-grinding, back-arching moves. Like afrofuturistic cyberpunk goddesses hailing from a place somewhere between the cinematic worlds of Black Panther and 1970s blaxploitation films like Foxy Brown, they celebrated their sexuality with womanly pride. And Janelle was their leader, establishing a virtuous context with her political, progressive, emotionally honest lyrics, and all-around loving vibe. She didn't shy away from ripping her own seductive dance moves as well, backed by the dancers who she sometimes joined in choreographed unison while other times they busted their moves around her. It all felt carefully rehearsed, which of course it was, but not in an unnatural or overproduced way. Rather it gave an air of professionalism; they were all working really hard on this show. And they were having a great time.

A five-piece band complemented Janelle and her dancers, for a total of ten people onstage—all of them black and almost all women, which is significant considering the mainstreaming of misogyny and racism in Trump's America. The male drummer and electric guitar player accompanied three women multi-instrumentalists; one primarily played bass guitar and the other two alternated between occupying keyboard consoles near the back of the stage to sometimes joining Janelle at center stage to play trumpet, trombone, and keytars. One was a fat black woman, and another an over-6-foot-tall black woman with a bleached blonde buzz cut. Of course their physical appearances shouldn't matter—all that matters is if they were capable musicians, and they all were. But in context of Janelle Monáe's recent work—and to the backdrop of rising hate and division in America, and the world—I mention it because the concert's prevailing themes were being yourself, loving yourself, and expressing yourself. So in relation to Janelle and her stunning dancers, the other bandmembers defied what is typically regarded as attractive in pop culture. But they were all beautiful because they appeared comfortable with who they are. That was the theme of the night; not only being comfortable with who you are, but rejoicing in it. Celebrating differences, diversity, and inclusivity.

That theme was reflected in the demographic makeup of the audience. I've attended dozens of concerts and music festivals, indoor and outdoor, from massive arenas and stadiums to beachside folk festivals, parks, concert halls, nightclubs, etc.—and all types of music, from big-budget pop acts to aged rock legends, underground rappers to huge HipHop stars, jazz pianists, symphony orchestras, R&B and soul singers, rock'n'roll bands with pyrotechnics and robotic stage props, shows with twenty-plus band members onstage and full choirs, to lone soloists. But never have I seen as diverse a crowd as at Janelle Monáe's show. At every other concert I've been to—no matter how popular the performer and how influential they've been on people from numerous walks of life—there's always a visible audience majority in skin colour, gender, body-type, style of dress, age, and so on. But here a broad mix of people assembled to see Janelle Monáe. The real dominant group was just people being themselves. This is a testament to Janelle's message, which has emerged more strongly with her new album; be yourself, with a special focus on people such as LGBTQ, women, and ethnic minorities who Western society has, historically and presently, told to be something else.

Systemic racism, patriarchy, and heteronormativity perpetuate the idea of white, male, and heterosexual as normal, acceptable, or superior, and non-white, non-male, and homo/bi/transsexual as "other" or less-than. But at Monáe's show there was a great deal of variety in the appearances of those in attendance. Many looked to be in their 60s, many teens and pre-teens, and every age in between. Black people, white, Asian, Hispanic—every ethnicity represented. Many appeared to conform to the so-called gender binary norm, and many didn't. Her/she, him/he, and they/them, all in abundance. Women were openly physically affectionate with each other, holding hands, kissing, and hugging—as were men with each other, as were men and women with each other, as were trans people with each other. If there was one demographic that appeared larger than any other, it was that women outnumbered the men by perhaps two to one. But otherwise there was no clear dominant group in attendance. Some were dressed more conservatively, some more eccentrically. Hippies. HipHoppas. Burlesquers. Businessmen/women-looking folks. Short, tall, skinny, fat, young, old. Whatever.

After shunning questions about her sexuality for years, Janelle publicly came out as queer while promoting Dirty Computer, an album that showcases a distinctly more rebellious, progressive attitude than her previous works. This is a notable evolution in her status as a multifaceted performer, as her music and persona was previously less politically focused. But considering the current attack by the U.S. administration on marginalized populations, Monáe's politicization resonates as a revolutionary stride toward the best parts of identity politics; embracing the values of unity in diversity, in the face of fascist superpowers who seek to divide, diminish, and destroy.

While performing "I Like That", Janelle improvised during a slow jam/breakdown portion of the song, pointing out various physical qualities of audience members and crooning to them that she does indeed "like that" ("Your hair…I like that", "Your skin tone…I like that"). This reiterated her theme; be yourself, and celebrate who you are unabashedly. The irony of it all is that it made me feel—as a 40-year-old "white guy"—a little inferior. I jokingly quipped to my cousin (a woman), "I know this concert is supposed to be about being comfortable being yourself, but it really makes me wish I was a black lesbian."

If there was one minor downside to the concert, it was that Monáe almost exclusively played songs from the Dirty Computer album and very few of her past gems. This isn't super surprising since tours are often launched specifically as a platform for musicians to showcase their newest material—and it is called the Dirty Computer Tour—but some artists nonetheless mix it up with their concert repertoire a little more than Monáe did. She performed every number from the album as faithful reproductions of the recorded versions, and very few other hits. This is only a downside to her show if you—like me—tend to think the new album is musically a little less interesting than her previous works. While her political messages are more pronounced and refined on this album—which I like—the sound is more pop-oriented, more polished, and less experimental than some of her past songs. But that's all for my review of the album; as for the live performance, it was exceptional—a thoroughly entertaining celebration of dance, song, love, sex, and personal identity—whatever that identity might be.

* * *

The songs Janelle played, in order:

1. Dirty Computer
2. Crazy, Classic, Life
3. Take a Byte
4. Screwed
5. Django Jane
6. Q.U.E.E.N.
7. Electric Lady
8. Primetime
9. Pynk
10. Yoga
11. I Like That
12. Don't Judge Me
13. Make Me Feel
14. I Got the Juice
15. Cold War
16. Tightrope
Encore:
17. So Afraid
18. Americans

• Nik Dobrinsky / Boy Drinks Ink
June 15th, 2018