The Anthem of Self-Love: Black Women Reclaiming Their Power- Mixtape
April 27, 2025
M’kyla Jett
ENGL 2017-65125
The Anthem of Self-Love: Black Women Reclaiming Their Power
In a world that often demands Black women shrink themselves, the act of self-love is nothing short of revolutionary. Through music, Black women have found a powerful language to express joy, pain, resilience, and beauty on their own terms. My Spotify playlist curated with songs by India Arie, Beyoncé, Lizzo and SZA becomes more than just a collection of melodies; it becomes a living, breathing affirmation of Black womanhood in all its fullness.
India Arie’s “Video” opens the conversation with a radical truth: self-worth is not dictated by societal expectations. With lyrics like “I am not my hair, I am not my skin, I am the soul that lives within,” Arie reclaims the narrative around beauty. She reminds Black women that validation begins within, not in the gaze of others. Her gentle strength encourages a self-love that is rooted in authenticity rather than assimilation.
Beyoncé’s “Brown Skin Girl” continues the celebration, turning melanin into a crown rather than a burden. She uplifts young Black girls, affirming that their features are regal and worthy of praise. In a world saturated with Eurocentric standards, Beyoncé’s voice becomes a beacon, telling Black women and girls everywhere that they are already enough. The song is not just a ballad; it is a love letter to brown skin, thick hair, and broad noses.
Lizzo’s “Good as Hell” shifts the energy into empowerment and joy. Her unapologetic confidence invites Black women to take up space, to demand happiness, and to celebrate every part of themselves flaws and all. Lizzo’s message is that self-love is not conditional it is a birthright. Her anthem echoes that liberation is found in dancing, laughing, and choosing oneself repeatedly.
Janelle Monáe’s “I Like That” and Solange’s “Cranes in the Sky” weave in the emotional complexities of self-love. Monáe affirms individuality — celebrating being "the random girl" who never quite fit the mold. Solange, meanwhile, beautifully captures the quiet, aching parts of the journey: the attempts to distract oneself from deep sadness before learning to sit with and heal it. These songs reveal that self-l
SZA’s music rounds out the journey by highlighting the raw vulnerability that often accompanies growth. Her honesty about insecurity, self-doubt, and longing humanizes the self-love journey, making space for imperfection without shame.
Together, these songs create a powerful tapestry of Black womanhood. They teach that self-love is a practice, not a destination. It means celebrating your reflection in the mirror, even on days you feel broken. It means honoring the strength and softness within you, knowing they can coexist.
For Black women, loving oneself is a radical act of survival and freedom. Through music, they are reminded daily: their existence is a miracle, their bodies are sacred, and their voices are unstoppable. The playlist is not just music. It is medicine, a mirror, and a call to keep loving harder, louder, and deeper.
For the end of my paper, I would like to leave a quote for the readers to think on a little bit. "Caring for myself is not self-indulgence, it is self-preservation, and that is an act of political warfare." – Audre Lorde
https://open.spotify.com/playlist/227KxNUwkADu1D4d2b1Gmi?si=503c71c5debd44e5&nd=1&dlsi=824b2367a90645b3https://open.spotify.com/playlist/227KxNUwkADu1D4d2b1Gmi?si=503c71c5debd44e5
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