For days, everyone from members of the Beyhive to Wendy Williams have been speculating the identity of the elusive “Becky” referenced in Beyonce’s song “Sorry” off of her much talked about album, “Lemonade.”
“Becky,” the woman who may or may not be Jay Z’s fictitious sidepiece was thought to be designer Rachel Roy due to a caption she wrote on an Instagram photo during the HBO premiere of Bey’s latest album which read:
“Good hair don’t care, but we will take good lighting, for selfies, or self truths, always. Live in the light #nodramaqueens.”
And though Roy has since denied being Jay Z’s mistress, the ex-wife of Roc-a-Fella co-founder Dame Dash isn’t getting off the hook so easily in my mind.
Jay Z’s not my husband and I have no allegiance to Beyoncé, so while I’d be disappointed if Roy chose to sleep with the rapper knowing he’s married, that revelation likely wouldn’t garner more than a Kanye shrug from me and maybe a shaking of the head. What I’m not here for, no matter who Roy is or isn’t sleeping with, is taking pride in being a woman with so-called “good hair,” particularly in a time when black women are working overtime to spread the message that health is what makes one’s hair good, not its texture.
And yet here comes Dutch and Bengali, Indian Rachel Roy bragging about having “good hair” like something out of a 2000 Lil Wayne lyric as if she deserves praise for the genetic composition that lends itself to the type of hair that currently grows from her crown. Truthfully, it’s the totality of the phrase “Becky with the good hair” that somewhat eliminates Roy’s name from the running because the very notion of “good hair” is almost solely a black one, used to describe members of the African diaspora whose racial makeup results in a hair texture that’s less coarse than typically expected. There’s nothing about Rachel Roy that’s black, except maybe her taste in men and her children’s bi-racial identity. She has no business bragging about her hair texture on social media, and if she was African-American she would understand the personal and societal implications of embracing “good hair,” and the weight of those two words when they appear together as one.
Roy may have protested that her caption was meant to be “fun and lighthearted” but there’s nothing amusing about profiting off of the pain African-American women experience when it comes to their hair which is rarely referenced as good unless the texture resembles that of another race. If women like Rachel Roy weren’t so caught up in being the apple of lost black men’s eye due to their exotic appearance, they’d know not to play with that notion or bask in the pedestal their hair texture has afforded them through no earning of their own.
And that is why this self-professed non-drama queen deserves all the drama she’s getting. Becky or not, this is not how you “live in the light;” what she said is actually pretty dark, but sheds a light on how she views herself and her coveted features as better than. Roy (and her daughter) may not deserve to be cyber bullied over a misunderstanding of infidelity, but I’m most definitely side-eyeing the hell out of the designer and making a mental note not to spend my coins on anything associated with her brand. Rachel Roy’s name still isn’t clear in my book and until she takes responsibility for indirectly shaming women whose mane doesn’t look like hers, she and her ‘good hair” can kick rocks.