At the drop of Beyonce’s recent dactylic ego trip, a visual album entitled, “Lemonade”, I allowed myself time for internal discourse. Though it may seem a trivial matter, I am firm believer that thinking critically about pop culture is the most responsible way to consume it. The question I wrestle with is, “Can I separate the enjoyment of the music, from the person who signs their name to it?” I’m about to go down a serious Marshall McLuhan wormhole here. You’ve been warned.

To begin with, Beyonce hasn’t granted an interview since sometime in 2013. The timing makes sense. It’s synchronous with the gossip gold that was the  “elevator incident” that went down between her sister Solange and her husband Jay-Z. You can’t unsee that shit. The response from the Beyonce camp ever since has been “no comment”, if that. Instead, we’re force fed the hyper-controlled image of a happy family unit, led by a ludicrously perfect matriarch empowered by her sexuality. You will consume every morsel, enjoy it, and then crave more. The woman has 68.5 million Instagram followers; only marginally lagging behind the usual suspects–a Kardashian, a Swift, and Instagram itself.

But hold on for a hot second. Does it bother you, as it does me, that her message is only told through her medium? Irregardless of what you think of her message (I’ll get there, don’t worry!), is it assumed that we are credulous enough to place significance on “the art” without access to the “artist”? That leaves a pretty rotten taste in my mouth as a consumer. I love sex. But eventually, I need more. Beyonce is giving us the best sex of our lives on the reg, but leaving as soon as we climax. Feel used?

A few years ago, I had the opportunity to work at a number of film festival pressers. If you’ve known me for more than 10 minutes, you’ll understand how life-defining this experience would have been for me. The day I evolved from a fan to a critic, was the day I met Sean Penn. It was 2007. He was there to promote his directorial vehicle “Into the Wild” starring Emile Hirsch. There was buzz around the film that year, particularly with such a big name behind the camera. An Oscar winner (and about to become a two-time winner the next year for “Milk”), a philanthropist, a former Madonna squeeze–this film would live or die on the back of it’s biggest star, the director. Within seconds of meeting him and then witnessing the abhorrent ego on display during a 45 minute press conference, I decided that I needed more than just mind-blowing sex from the celebrity world. What I mean is that I cannot completely ignore the urge, appetite, and frankly the right I have to get more from an artist than just their medium.

Somehow, we accept that Beyonce represents a collective female empowerment movement. That’s her message. But she makes it remarkably easy for me to prove my point. It’s well known and even heavily propagated that Beyonce uses an alter-ego on stage and screen, in fact she named an entire album after this apparition-turned-cure-for-stage-fright, “I am Sasha Fierce”. So, even the message is clouded, inauthentic to the artist, and uses misdirection to trick the consumer. It’s the oldest trick in the book. Wait, so who represents rising above adversity and sexual empowerment? Sasha Fierce, or Beyonce? In this latest venture, we are once again led to believe we have been given the gift of elusive access into Queen Bey’s life. But to a discerning pop culture critic, it still leaves us wondering if the (admittedly stunning) parabolic imagery is intrinsic with her message, or yet another disingenuous creation. How the fuck would we know? Until 2013, the Beyonce in interviews was a glaring contradiction to the Beyonce medium. After 2013, she decided for us that we would gorge on whatever she fed us, without question, without dissection.

Remember, she has the very best money can buy in this biz. Is it strong to pretend you're someone else and let an impossibly unattainable image reign as a role model for sisterhood? I urge you to come to your own conclusion, because that’s a big, fat, loaded question that often makes women very uncomfortable. I do not believe it shows power, influence, or fearlessness. Quite the opposite. I’m neither inspired, awakened or starry-eyed by the finely-crafted persona that is…I don’t know, Beyonce, Sasha Fierce, or this generation's Feminist leader. But I will dance hard to my favourite Bey tracks, 'cuz her medium is too damn good.