Growing Up Black in a White World — Beyoncé, Whitney & the Soul That Held Me

Being raised in a predominantly Caucasian environment, I didn’t always see myself reflected in the world around me. But I found mirrors in music — sacred spaces where my soul could breathe. Whitney Houston and Michael Jackson weren’t just global icons. They were sanctuary. They were softness, strength, magic. They gave me something the world around me didn’t always know how to give: space to be all of me.And then there was Beyoncé.

With Beyoncé, it felt like growing up together. Different worlds, different expertise, but somehow intertwined in the way we both learned to transform pain into power. Through her evolution, I watched a Black woman take ownership of every layer of her story — the glamour, the grief, the grit. She made me believe that art, when sacred and intentional, could be alchemy.

Being raised in a predominantly Caucasian environment, I didn’t always see myself reflected in the world around me. But I found mirrors in music — sacred spaces where my soul could breathe

Today, music has often become disposable. Cheap. Fast. Forgettable. But Beyoncé reminds us that Black music was never meant to be that. It was born out of struggle. Out of codes and hymns. Out of blue notes carried by ancestors who hummed through hunger, grief, and survival. Every harmony had a hidden message. Every rhythm a rebellion.

She understands that. She honors that.

Today, music has often become disposable. Cheap. Fast. Forgettable. But Beyoncé reminds us that Black music was never meant to be that.

You can hear the hungerwinter in her voice — the spiritual starvation, the ancestral ache, but also the triumphant return. She doesn’t just sing; she summons. From gospel to country, from Creole chants to soul, she weaves a sonic tapestry that honors where we come from and where we dare to go.

That’s why I appreciate her.

In a time when so much is created just to consume, Beyoncé chooses quality above quantity. She doesn’t chase trends. She builds legacy. She moves with intention. She treats her art as sacred. And for someone like me, raised between cultures, between identities, that means everything.

Michael taught me wonder. Whitney taught me warmth. Beyoncé taught me power.

And all of them reminded me:
Our stories deserve a stage. Our grief deserves gospel. Our joy deserves to be loud.

Love,

Mara :)