The presidential inauguration this week! Did you catch the festivites? What fun! Okay, so if you're more of a right-winger, it might not have been your kind of party. I get that. But I enjoy a good celebration as much as the next girl, and when it comes to shindigs, it doesn't really get more exciting than the parades and balls and patriotism. So despite who's getting sworn in, I've always liked watching the presidential inauguration festivities. Not to mention Michelle's bangs! Swoon! If they don't have their own Twitter account by now, it's only a matter of time.
And the formal balls! President Obama looking oh-so Downtown Abbey in his white tie. Michelle and her arms rocking a red dress...move over, Nancy Reagan! Malia and Sasha adorably taking photos. Jill Biden dancing with Joe! The parade! Oh, there was something for everyone; even the most hardened Tea Partier must have enjoyed the twenty-one gun salute.
And since our president is such a cool cat, the parties and guests were particularly ogle-worthy. Jennifer Hudson looked so lovely crooning to the First Couple as they had the first dance of the evening. What talent! I wish I had her size six figure and her Weight Watchers dollars, too. But I digress. Jennifer Hudson was only one of several A-list entertainers on the docket that day, too. Although I thoroughly missed Aretha Franklin and her hat.
There was something for everyone. James Taylor crooned for the white baby boomers. That man is amazing. He's clean now, but he took enough heroin in his lifetime to take down a small village yet still is smooth as butter onstage in the cold, hitting those "fruited plains" notes effortlessly. He's seen fire, and he's seen rain. Seriously, what kind of iron-clad DNA is this man in possession of?
Then there was fellow Texan Kelly Clarkson. Woo hoo! Did that girl belt it out! Chuck Shumer looked a little afraid of her as he returned to the podium when she was done singing. "Wow!" Shumer exclaimed, and he was right: it was cold, crowded, and for the lousy acoustics, sister truly did wear it out. My country 'tis of thee indeed!
And then President Obama opened for Beyonce, which was weird enough in itself. She "sang" the Star Spangled Banner, even gaining additional audience praise when she whipped out her earpiece mid-song and kept her perfect pitch. I use quotation marks around "sang," of course, because of the controversy of which we are all now very well aware: Lip-Syncgate. Followed by an epidemic of eyerolls.
Cue the sturm und drang for a nation of people with clearly not enough to worry about: now everyone's got their proverbial dainties in a bunch because Beyonce didn't sing live. Aside: if you are emotionally involved in whether or not Beyonce lip-synched for Barack, you clearly need a hobby or a cause. So why the hubbub, bub?
Perhaps the real controversy is about authenticity. Displaying confidence in one's abilities. James Taylor and Kelly Clarkson took their chances with the poor acoustics, the cold weather, and the huge crowd. Bey took the safer road by taping her performance. I get it; the stakes were high, and she wanted to cover her bases.
Beyonce is one of the best at what she does, but Americans value authenticity. She baited and switched us, and no one likes feeling duped. We'd rather you sing loudly and badly and own it. We like individuals who take risks, who don't play it safely, and have confidence. As long as you can mea culpa, we'll give you chance after chance.
So here's to being our most authentic selves, as messy and flawed as we can be. Let your freak flag fly. Do your thing fearlessly. Here's to taking risks, having confidence in our gifts and abilities, and to singing loudly and making mistakes. It's not only okay to be human, it kind of rocks. So what if we come off more like Roseanne tackling the national anthem at a major league baseball game? She lived to tell the tale. And so will we. Here's to singing loudly and authentically. Like they taught us on Sesame Street: doesn't matter if it's not good enough for anyone else to hear. Just sing a song.
