It was the critique heard ‘round the internet. When bell hooks on Beyonce became a viral flashpoint back in 2014, it didn't just spark a Twitter trend. It exposed a massive, jagged rift in how we talk about Black women, power, and the male gaze. People were angry. Like, really angry. You had one of the most respected Black feminist scholars of all time calling the world’s biggest pop star a "terrorist" during a panel at The New School.
Wait. A terrorist?
Yeah, hooks actually used that word. She wasn't talking about violence in the literal sense, obviously. She was talking about the impact of Beyonce's image on the psyches of young Black girls. It felt harsh then. It feels even more complicated now that we’ve seen the evolution of Lemonade, Renaissance, and Cowboy Carter. But to understand the friction, you have to look at the specific moment hooks decided to take a stand against the "Beyonce brand."
The "Terrorist" comment that shook the culture
The setting was a 2014 panel titled "Are You Still a Slave? Liberating the Black Female Body." hooks sat alongside Janet Mock and other activists. The conversation turned to Beyonce’s TIME magazine cover where she posed in a white bikini. hooks didn't hold back. She argued that Beyonce’s hyper-sexualized image was a "collusion" with patriarchal standards.
She basically said that even though Beyonce has all the money and fame in the world, she was still operating within a system that commodifies her body for the pleasure of men. To hooks, that wasn't liberation. It was a high-gloss trap.
"I see a part of Beyonce that is anti-feminist—that is a terrorist, especially in terms of the impact on young girls," hooks said.
The backlash was instant. The Beyhive didn't care about hooks’ decades of academic work or her seminal book Ain't I a Woman?. They saw an older woman tearing down a younger woman who was clearly running her own empire. But hooks wasn't interested in "girl boss" feminism. She was looking at the "imperialist white supremacist capitalist patriarchy"—a mouthful of a phrase she coined to describe the interlocking systems of oppression. Honestly, she probably didn't expect the internet to simplify her nuanced critique into a "celebrity feud," but that's exactly what happened.
Why hooks was skeptical of "Drunk in Love"
You have to remember the context of the era. This was the "Self-Titled" album phase. Beyonce had just dropped the "Feminist" sign at the VMAs. She was sampling Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie. On the surface, it looked like a win for the movement.
But hooks looked closer.
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She pointed to the "Drunk in Love" video. Specifically, the line "Eat the cake, Anna Mae," which references a scene of domestic abuse from the Tina Turner biopic What's Love Got to Do with It. For hooks, glamorizing or even playfully referencing that kind of violence while portraying a hyper-sexualized persona was dangerous. She felt it sent a message that Black female bodies are only valuable when they are being consumed or dominated.
Is that a fair assessment?
Many younger feminists argued no. They felt hooks was being "respectability politics" adjacent. They argued that Beyonce owning her sexuality is a form of power. That being a "grown woman" meant she could do whatever she wanted with her body. But hooks wasn't talking about individual choice. She was talking about the structure. She basically believed that you can't be truly liberated if your "power" is just selling a fantasy that was designed by the patriarchy in the first place.
The Lemonade shift: Did hooks change her mind?
When Lemonade dropped in 2016, everyone waited for the bell hooks response. And she gave it. She wrote an essay titled "Moving Beyond Pain."
She praised the album for its visual beauty. She acknowledged that it was a "visual feast." She even gave Beyonce credit for moving the needle on how we view Black womanhood. But—and there is always a "but" with hooks—she still felt the narrative was limited.
She argued that Lemonade stayed within the realm of "victimization." To hooks, the story was still about a woman defined by a man’s betrayal and her ultimate choice to stay and "fix" the relationship.
"Even though Beyonce’s graphics give us a 14-year-old’s fantasy of what it’s like to be a Black woman, they don't give us a way out of the patriarchy."
It’s a tough pill to swallow if you love the album. hooks felt the "Beyonce-as-commodity" was still the primary driver. She questioned if we could actually call something "revolutionary" if it’s designed to be sold for $17.99 on iTunes. It’s the classic tension between art as commerce and art as liberation.
The generational gap in Black feminism
A lot of this boils down to how different generations view the body. For bell hooks, who came up in a time where Black women were constantly dehumanized and hyper-sexualized against their will, the "choice" to sexualize oneself felt like a surrender.
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For the younger generation, the "Beyonce" generation, the body is a site of reclamation.
- The hooks view: True power comes from deconstructing the system and moving away from being an "object" altogether.
- The Beyonce view: Power comes from becoming the "subject" of your own sexuality and profiting from it yourself instead of letting others do it.
Neither side is entirely wrong. That’s the beauty and the frustration of the bell hooks on Beyonce discourse. It forced us to ask: Can you be a billionaire and a revolutionary at the same time? hooks leaned toward "no." The rest of the world is still debating it.
What we get wrong about the "Terrorist" label
People love to use that quote to show hooks was "hating." But if you read her work, hooks used "terrorism" to describe anything that psychologically harms a marginalized group's ability to see themselves as whole human beings.
She wasn't saying Beyonce is an evil person. She was saying the image of Beyonce is a tool that can be used to reinforce self-hatred or narrow standards of beauty in young girls. If a girl thinks she has to look like Beyonce to be "feminist" or "powerful," and she can't reach that standard, that creates a psychological trauma. That’s the "terror" hooks was getting at.
It’s a deep, academic point that got lost in the shuffle of clickbait headlines. Honestly, it’s a shame, because we missed out on a real conversation about how celebrity culture replaces actual community organizing.
Practical takeaways from the hooks-Beyonce tension
So, what do we actually do with this information? It’s not about picking a team. You don't have to delete "Cuff It" from your playlist to respect bell hooks. You also don't have to ignore hooks’ warnings just because you love the music.
1. Practice Critical Consumption
Enjoy the art, but ask questions. Who is profiting? What message is being sent about gender? bell hooks taught us that we can love something and critique it at the same time. You can dance to Beyonce and still acknowledge that her brand is part of a massive capitalist machine.
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2. Look Beyond the Individual
Feminism isn't just about one woman’s success. Beyonce’s success is incredible, but it doesn't automatically translate to the liberation of all Black women. hooks reminds us to keep our eyes on the collective. How are the women who don't have millions of dollars doing?
3. Embrace the Nuance
Avoid the "cancel culture" urge. bell hooks wasn't trying to "cancel" Beyonce; she was trying to challenge her. Growth happens in the friction. If we only listen to voices that agree with us, we stay stagnant.
4. Read the Source Material
If you’ve only seen the memes, go read hooks’ essay "Moving Beyond Pain." Then go watch Lemonade again. See where they intersect. You’ll find that they are often talking about the same wounds, just proposing different ways to heal them.
The legacy of bell hooks on Beyonce isn't one of "beef." It’s a legacy of intellectual rigor. It reminds us that Black feminism is not a monolith. It is a vibrant, loud, and sometimes messy conversation that refuses to settle for easy answers. Whether you’re a scholar or a fan, that tension is where the real learning happens.
To apply this in your own life, try analyzing your favorite media through hooks' "oppositional gaze." Next time you watch a music video or a movie, don't just ask if you like it. Ask what it's trying to tell you about who holds power and why. Look for the "collusion" hooks talked about. By developing this critical eye, you move from being a passive consumer to an active participant in your own culture. This is the first step toward the liberation hooks spent her whole life writing about.