I Made My Parents Watch Beyoncé's ‘Homecoming’ Documentary, and Here's What Happened

It’s been just over a week since Beyoncé’s Homecoming documentary debuted on Netflix, and while I can’t say I watched it the day it came out, I did watch it at 2 a.m. the next day, knowing full well I had a flight home that I needed to head to the airport for at 4 a.m.

That sleepless night was the first viewing, but I knew I’d need to watch it again (and again and again and again). It was like seeing the surprise Lemonade visual album for the first time. Before the Homecoming premiere, I had only seen images of Beyonce’s historic Coachella performance. I had somehow stayed completely oblivious to the sheer magnitude, the groundbreaking spectacle, the larger-than-life performance that was Beychella.

True story, when I went home for Easter weekend the next day, I watched it again with my parents. I couldn’t stop thinking about the film, and knew I needed to show someone (anyone!) and see if they, too, felt as moved as I did. The closest people in proximity were my mom and dad (my dog Daisy has little appreciation for the arts, though I do feel “Crazy in Love” whenever my dad texts me pictures of her). 

While I dodged glances over how short her shorts were (“Oh, my” was all my mom could say as Queen Bey twerked and shook and wiggled around on stage), I rejoiced in their rapt attention.

Background: My parents don’t have social media, steer clear of most pop culture news and often end their nights on the couch for a few Turner Classic Movies. So I paused to explain that the cute little girl in the rehearsals was Blue Ivy, that man was Jay-Z, and he and Beyoncé were married, and that this was the most historic thing to happen at Coachella, making Beyoncé the first black woman ever to headline the festival. I think they felt the emotion behind my words, but there was no response: They just wanted the show to go on.

The best moment came when Destiny’s Child appeared reunited as Kelly Rowland and Michelle Williams joined Beyoncé on stage. As evidenced by the jumping up and down, jaws on the floor reactions of so many in the crowd, I was one in a million who grew up loving the girl group. I would play the CDs in my dad’s Ford Bronco on the way to elementary school. After Spice Girls (if I had to rank), DC was the top.

So when that part of Homecoming arrived, my parents were floored. They knew how earth-shattering it would be for me to see them together again, and by extension, were equally as excited and sentimental.

There was a connection to my hometown as well, which seemed to pique their interest. Tallahassee, Florida’s FAMU Marching 100 band (one of the many HBCU marching bands included in the film) was featured a few times throughout the documentary, as some of its members were included in Beyoncé’s drumline. That whole montage hit close to home (literally).

Bottom line: They couldn’t look away. And in them, I saw a glimpse of my own reaction to my first Beyoncé concert ever, when I went to the Made in America festival in Philly and stood packed like a sardine for six hours with dirt-covered feet and between sweaty bandana-wearing teens.

It was “Heaven.”