Poetry usually stays in the classroom. You read it, you analyze the meter, and then you forget it. But in 2017, Morgan Parker released a collection that felt less like a book and more like a cultural lightning strike. The title alone, There Are More Beautiful Things Than Beyoncé, was a dare. It wasn't an insult to the Queen Bey. Far from it. It was a radical, messy, and deeply necessary exploration of Black womanhood in a world that consumes Black culture while often ignoring the actual humans behind it.
Honestly, it’s a bit of a shocker how well it holds up.
When you first see that title, your brain might go to a place of celebrity gossip. You think it's a "hot take." It isn't. Parker uses Beyoncé as a North Star—a symbol of perfection, performance, and the impossible standards placed on Black women—to talk about the things that aren't perfect. The depression. The bad dates. The history of trauma. The mundane beauty of just existing.
The Beyoncé Paradox and Why We Can't Look Away
Beyoncé is an icon. We know this. But in the context of Parker’s work, she represents an "attainable" yet impossible ideal. If Beyoncé is the peak of beauty and success, what happens to the rest of us? What happens to the Black women who are tired, or sad, or just "normal"?
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Parker isn't hating. She's actually obsessed, in a way. She’s looking at the performance of the superstar and contrasting it with the raw, unpolished reality of daily life. There is a specific kind of tension in being a fan of someone who represents a level of perfection you can never reach. The book navigates this by using Beyoncé as a "ghost" that haunts the poems. She appears in titles, in imagery, and as a silent judge of the narrator's life.
It's about the weight of expectation.
Think about the poem "Beyoncé Is Sixty Percent More Happy Than Me." It’s funny, but it also hurts. It taps into that social media-induced anxiety where we measure our internal chaos against someone else's curated highlight reel. Only here, the highlight reel is a global industry. Parker is pointing out that while we worship the icon, we often miss the "more beautiful things" that are small, fragile, and human.
Looking Past the Pop Culture Surface
If you go into this thinking it’s a biography or a fan zine, you’re going to be confused. The poems are dense. They are jagged. They jump from the middle of a panic attack to a reference to The Real Housewives.
One of the most striking things about There Are More Beautiful Things Than Beyoncé is how it handles history. It doesn't treat the past like it's over. It treats the middle passage, Jim Crow, and 21st-century microaggressions as if they are all happening at the exact same time. This is what scholars often call "historical layering," but Parker makes it feel visceral.
She talks about the "Blackness" that is marketed to the masses versus the Blackness that is lived.
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There’s this constant tug-of-war between being a "strong Black woman"—the trope that Beyoncé often embodies through her "Survivor" or "Formation" eras—and the right to be vulnerable. Parker writes about the desire to just be "ugly" or "lazy" or "broken." In a society that demands Black excellence as a price for entry, simply being mediocre or struggling is a form of protest.
The Real Beauty in the "Other" Things
What are these "more beautiful things"? Parker doesn't give a neat list. That would be too easy. Instead, the beauty is found in the cracks.
- It’s in the messy parts of a night out.
- It’s in the weird, uncomfortable silence after a joke doesn't land.
- It’s in the way a body feels when it’s not being watched or performing for a camera.
- It’s the radical act of self-care that isn't a bath bomb but is actually just surviving a Tuesday.
Why This Collection Changed the Game for Modern Poetry
Before this book, a lot of "prestige" poetry felt very white and very academic. Parker broke that door down. She used the language of pop culture to talk about the most serious things imaginable. This paved the way for a whole generation of "Instapoets," sure, but Parker has a depth that most of the short-form poets lack. She isn't writing for likes; she’s writing to exorcise demons.
She acknowledges the limitations of being a "public intellectual" or a "famous poet." There’s a self-awareness in the writing that acknowledges how even writing about not performing is, in itself, a performance.
It’s meta. It’s smart. It’s kinda exhausting in the best way possible.
The book arrived right at the tail end of the Obama era and the beginning of the Trump era. That timing is crucial. It captures a specific moment of American disillusionment. We had the "perfect" Black family in the White House, and we had the "perfect" Black artist on the stage, yet the underlying structures of racism and sexism hadn't moved an inch. Parker’s poems are the sound of that realization sinking in.
Navigating the Themes of Mental Health and Agency
We have to talk about the depression in these poems. It’s not "sad girl" aesthetic depression. It’s the heavy, clinical, "I can't get out of bed" kind.
Parker is incredibly brave in how she documents her own psyche. She discusses therapy, medication, and the specific way mental health is stigmatized in the Black community. By placing these struggles alongside the image of Beyoncé—who represents infinite energy and capability—she highlights the "beauty" of the struggle. Not that suffering is good, but that being honest about it is more beautiful than a lie.
Agency is the other big one. Who owns a Black woman's body? Is it the fans? The music industry? The police? The "white gaze"? Parker’s narrator is constantly trying to claw back her own agency from everyone who wants a piece of her.
Actionable Insights for Readers and Creators
Reading There Are More Beautiful Things Than Beyoncé isn't just an academic exercise. It offers a few real-world "ah-ha" moments that you can actually apply to how you live.
Audit your influences. Take a look at the "icons" you follow. Are they inspiring you, or are they setting a standard that makes you feel like your "normal" life is a failure? It’s okay to love the art while rejecting the pressure to be the artist.
Practice radical honesty in your own "poetry." Whether you write, paint, or just talk to friends, try to find the beauty in your "un-Beyoncé" moments. The times you messed up or looked tired are often the times you were most human.
Understand the "Performance." Start noticing when you are performing for others. Are you posting that photo because you like it, or because it fits an image of who you're supposed to be? Recognizing the performance is the first step to stopping it.
Support Black creators who don't fit the mold. There is a tendency to only elevate Black artists who are "perfect" or "excellent." Seek out the weird, the experimental, and the messy. Support the people who are telling the whole story, not just the radio-friendly version.
The legacy of this book isn't about dethroning a pop star. It’s about expanding the definition of what we find valuable. It’s a reminder that while the world might be obsessed with the gold-plated version of reality, there is a much deeper, more complex beauty in the dirt and the shadows. You don't have to be a queen to be worthy of a poem. You just have to be here.
How to Engage with Parker's Work Now
If you haven't read it yet, start with the poem "Magical Negro #607: Gladys Knight on the 200th Episode of The Jeffersons." It’s a perfect entry point into how Parker blends TV history with deep, existential dread. Don't worry about "getting" every reference. Just feel the rhythm. The book is meant to be felt more than it is meant to be solved.
Pick up a copy at a local indie bookstore—they usually keep it in stock because it’s a modern classic. Then, go for a walk and look for something "ugly" that you actually find beautiful. That’s the most Parker thing you can do.
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Next Steps for Your Reading List:
- Read Magical Negro, Parker's follow-up collection, to see how her style evolved toward even sharper cultural critique.
- Listen to the "Otherppl" podcast episode where Morgan Parker discusses the pressure of the book's title and its reception.
- Compare the themes in this collection to the visual storytelling in Beyoncé’s Lemonade—you’ll find they are actually in a fascinating, silent conversation with each other.