Beyoncé’s visual album Lemonade wooed critics with a rich tapestry of sounds and images. There is, however, a deeper level of interpretation that most critics did not consider – one that heavily draws on occult ritual and symbolism. We’ll look at the hidden meaning of Beyoncé’s Lemonade.
The surprise release of Lemonade prompted a perfect storm of media attention. From gossip sites asking “Is Beyoncé accusing Jay-Z of cheating?” to music critics proclaiming Beyoncé a “singular genius” and “Black woman superhero”, Lemonade got plenty of the pop culture spotlight. However, amidst all of that talk, almost nobody has addressed an obvious trait of that visual album: It is heavily occult, spiritual, and ritualistic, and it alludes to metaphysical concepts that gives the story a deeper meaning.
Indeed, most observers kept their analysis in very shallow waters, reaching pandering conclusions such as “it’s about strong Black women and non-Black women should not even attempt to understand it”, without even addressing the 50% of the video that goes way beyond that simplistic premise.
The album is described on Tidal as “every woman’s journey of self-knowledge and healing” and the overall the theme is said to be “the empowerment of black women referencing both marital relationships and the historical trauma from slavery”. However, the occult imagery of the video tells a story that is far more complex … and far less “empowering”. While throughout the video, Beyoncé appears to be speaking to an unfaithful husband, various clues indicate this unfaithful husband is not Jay-Z or her father; instead, it is Beyoncé’s true father and husband, the occult elite’s music industry. After giving her life and soul to be part of this industry, Beyoncé is now married to it – for better or for worse. But the industry is not faithful to her and treats her badly. Through symbolic imagery, Lemonade explains what was required from Beyoncé to become, in her words, the “baddest b*tch in the game”, how it left a permanent mark on her, and how she will now be used to be a “leader”.
Written and Directed by the Occult Elite
Music critics claim that Lemonade is Beyoncé’s most personal album, making it seem like she sat there crying with a pen and paper, writing her heart out. But that is not how it went down. A quick look at the album’s liner notes reveal that the album was written by a team of 72 writers … the song Hold Up alone was written by 15 people! The video part of the “visual album” was put together by seven directors, including some of the occult elite’s favorites: Jonas Akerlund and Mark Romanek. Akerlund alone has been mentioned several times on Vigilant Citizen due to the fact that he created highly symbolic videos such as Britney Spear’s Hold it Against Me, Lady Gaga’s Telephone, an MK-ultra themed commercial for Versace, and many more.
Akerlund has a clear grasp of the occult elite’s imagery and seems to specialize in depicting pop stars as mind-controlled puppets.
In Lemonade, the same ideas are communicated – but insidiously hidden under a thick layer of “strong Black woman” narrative. Beyoncé was always an industry puppet, but now that puppet has been sent back to its “people” to become a leader. In other words, she is (still) Maria from the movie Metropolis (the elite’s favorite movie).
Think about the immediate response following the release of Lemonade: Accusations, finger-pointing and suspicion towards Jay-Z, her father, and a witch hunt against women who are suspected to be Jay-Z’s mistresses. Is this truly “empowering” anyone … or is it about more self-destruction? Let’s look atLemonade.
The hour-long visual album is a tapestry of song clips, poetry passages, and video shorts put together to tell an overarching story. Strongly inspired by Beyoncé’s parents’ native states (Louisiana and Texas), the imagery of Lemonade (and even its title) taps into the roots of the Deep South. However, it also taps into the roots of occultism.
The entire video is permeated with the concept of duality, which is expressed with the opposition of black and white, good and evil, love and hate. Also, the video depicts two distinct realities: What happens above ground (for the world to see) and what happens underground (after all, the world “occult” means hidden).
Married to the Game
The first poem of the video sets the table: It simultaneously calls out an unfaithful husband and an unfaithful father, in words that can also be applied to the music industry – the “home” where she has spent most of her life – and the real “cheating husband” to whom she is married.
I tried to make a home out of you, but doors lead to trap doors, a stairway leads to nothing. Unknown women wander the hallways at night. Where do you go when you go quiet?
You remind me of my father, a magician … able to exist in two places at once. In the tradition of men in my blood, you come home at 3 a.m. and lie to me. What are you hiding?
The past and the future merge to meet us here. What luck. What a f*cking curse.
The industry is full of “trap doors” and “stairways that lead to nothing” for artists who will forever remain pawns. The occult elite, bent on ritual and black magick reminds her of her father, a “magician”. In her words, “what a f*cking curse.”
The video then proceeds to retell, in symbolic terms, Beyoncé’s first contact with the “dark side”.
I tried to change. Closed my mouth more, tried to be softer, prettier, less awake. Fasted for 60 days, wore white, abstained from mirrors, abstained from sex, slowly did not speak another word. In that time, my hair, I grew past my ankles. I slept on a mat on the floor. I swallowed a sword. I levitated. Went to the basement, confessed my sins, and was baptized in a river. I got on my knees and said ‘amen’ and said ‘I mean.’
Midway into that poem, things get increasingly darker and Beyoncé gets increasingly agitated, jerking around as if possessed. From purification, it becomes about black magick.
I whipped my own back and asked for dominion at your feet. I threw myself into a volcano. I drank the blood and drank the wine. I sat alone and begged and bent at the waist for God. I crossed myself and thought I saw the devil. I grew thickened skin on my feet, I bathed in bleach, and plugged my menses with pages from the holy book, but still inside me, coiled deep, was the need to know … Are you cheating on me?
After a gestation period inside the womb, where Beyonce was initiated in the ways of the occult elite, she is ready for rebirth.
Oshun is commonly called the river orisha, or goddess, in the Yoruba religion and is typically associated with water, purity, fertility, love, and sensuality. She is considered one of the most powerful of all orishas, and, like other gods, she possesses human attributes such as vanity, jealousy, and spite.
Beyoncé’s dress color is also associated with Oshun as she is associated yellow or amber and the metal gold or bronze.
This video might represent the “meltdown” phase many industry slaves go through after being re-programmed by the industry.
Then, Beyoncé gets inside a monster truck and crushes a bunch of people’s cars. Take that Beyoncé’s home town!
After that public meltdown, Beyoncé pleads with the elite. Broken by the programming, she is ready to be built up … in the elite’s image.
If it’s what you truly want … I can wear her skin over mine. Her hair over mine. Her hands as gloves. Her teeth as confetti. Her scalp, a cap. Her sternum, my bedazzled cane. We can pose for a photograph, all three of us. Immortalized … you and your perfect girl.
In Monarch mind control terms, Beyoncé is ready to take on her alter persona and to become the pop star the elite wants to put in front of the masses. Fierce!
After a couple of angry songs where Beyoncé rebels against her cheating husband, things get ritualistic again. While, above ground, Beyoncé appears to be a strong, unapologetic woman, things are different underground.
She sleeps all day. Dreams of you in both worlds. Tills the blood, in and out of uterus. Wakes up smelling of zinc, grief sedated by orgasm, orgasm heightened by grief. God was in the room when the man said to the woman, “I love you so much. Wrap your legs around me. Pull me in, pull me in, pull me in.” Sometimes when he’d have her nipple in his mouth, she’d whisper, “Oh, my God.” That, too, is a form of worship.
Sex magick can be defined as “sexual activity used in magical, ritualistic or otherwise religious and spiritual pursuits”. Not unlike the menstrual blood mentioned above, physical arousal is considered by occultists to be extremely potent and can be channeled for magickal purposes (see Aleister Crowley and the O.T.O).
The rest of the poem invokes darkness and the lore of witchcraft. It again references images associated with black magick.
Her hips grind, pestle and mortar, cinnamon and cloves. Whenever he pulls out … loss. Dear moon, we blame you for floods … for the flush of blood … for men who are also wolves. We blame for the night, for the dark, for the ghosts.
In this context, Beyoncé is a programmed slave used in magick ritual – a Beta Kitten. Appropriately enough, the next song, 6 Inch, is about prostitution – what Beta Kittens do.
Six-inch heels, she walked in the club like nobody’s business
Goddamn, she murdered everybody and I was her witness
She works for the money, she work for the money
From the start to the finish
And she worth every dollar, she worth every dollar
And she worth every minute
In the poem that follows, Beyoncé addresses her mother, while denouncing abusive husbands and fathers. Also, she is referring to the occult industry that became her father and her husband.
Mother dearest, let me inherit the earth. Teach me how to make him beg. Let me make up for the years he made you wait. Did he bend your reflection? Did he make you forget your own name? Did he convince you he was a god? Did you get on your knees daily? Do his eyes close like doors? Are you a slave to the back of his head?
Am I talking about your husband or your father?
The words above describe mental, physical and sexual abuse, the kind that MK slaves go through. After reciting these horrible words, Beyoncé sings a song dedicated to her father. One cannot say thatLemonade is kind to Black male figures.
After anger and rebellion, Beyoncé settles down, accepts her fate and wants to reconcile.
Baptize me … now that reconciliation is possible. If we’re gonna heal, let it be glorious. 1,000 girls raise their arms. Do you remember being born? Are you thankful for the hips that cracked? The deep velvet of your mother and her mother and her mother? There is a curse that will be broken.
However, things are different underground. Beyoncé is not like this woman standing outside. She is inside a dark, cavernous place – and her mind is somewhere else.
You are terrifying … and strange and beautiful.
She is still obsessed by the dark side, and probably always will be. Despite this fact, or because of it, she has now been chosen to lead her people.
From there on out, the theme of freedom and liberation takes over. In a system that is tightly controlled by the powers that be, “liberation” can only be championed by the pawns those powers have created. In other words: controlled opposition.
Beyoncé then moves on to praise her grandmother for metaphorically turning the lemons of life into lemonade – not without using occult terms, of course.
Grandmother, the alchemist, you spun gold out of this hard life, conjured beauty from the things left behind. Found healing where it did not live. Discovered the antidote in your own kit. Broke the curse with your own two hands. You passed these instructions down to your daughter who then passed it down to her daughter.
While these words invoke hope and strength, Beyoncé’s final words are about pleading “the magician” (the occult elite) to bring her back together. She is not free or liberated from anything. In her own words, “her torturers became her remedy”.
True love brought salvation back into me. With every tear came redemption and my torturers became my remedy. So we’re gonna heal. We’re gonna start again. You’ve brought the orchestra, synchronized swimmers.
You’re the magician. Pull me back together again, the way you cut me in half. Make the woman in doubt disappear. Pull the sorrow from between my legs like silk. Knot after knot after knot. The audience applauds … but we can’t hear them.
The album ends with the song Formation – a widely publicized single that got airplay at the biggest televised event on Earth: the Superbowl Halftime show. The song begins with Beyoncé basically saying “You guys, stop saying that I am Illuminati! I am rebellious super Black Power girl now.”
Y’all haters corny with that Illuminati mess
Paparazzi, catch my fly, and my cocky fresh
I’m so reckless when I rock my Givenchy dress (stylin’)
I’m so possessive so I rock his Roc necklaces
So, after calling people corny because SHE’s been pushing the Illuminati Agenda, she goes on to claim that she wears Givenchy and wears Rocafella necklaces. Maybe one should point out that Rocafella Records was named after the Rockerfeller family (the primary occult elite family in the USA) and that the label’s handsign is this:
Beyoncé’s Lemonade is dark, complex, profound, and works on several levels. However, it is not a “personal” album. It was composed by 72 writers and the “visual album” was produced by a team of occult-friendly video directors. It is a carefully crafted product of the music industry that contains the same messages other pop products. However, in 2016, the cultural context is shifting. The police killings of Black people in the past years has caused grief, unrest and racial division across the USA. Always remaining “relevant”, Beyoncé’s team has crafted a plot that taps directly into these issues, while cleverly weaving throughout the occult elite’s own imagery and agenda.
While Lemonade appears to be about empowerment and freedom, the occult “underground” imagery depicts Beyoncé as exactly the opposite: a slave who goes through the rigorous initiation process of the elite. She is not a rebel. She is Maria from Metropolis. And she is not serving you lemonade … she is serving you the elite’s toxic Kool-Aid.