Why you should get your boots to Beyoncé’s Cowboy Carter Tour, a sermon for the weary, while you can

In a stadium of strangers dressed in fabulous fringe, denim, boots, cowboy hats and other adornments in keeping with the Cowboy Carter aesthetic, I rediscovered something that I had long misplaced: Ebullient joy.

In a stadium of strangers dressed in fabulous fringe, denim, boots, cowboy hats and other adornments in keeping with the Cowboy Carter aesthetic, I rediscovered something that I had long misplaced: Ebullient joy. Beyoncé’s performance - three hours of artistry and awe that could make even the unfaithful believe there must be something divine behind her talent - unlocked part of me that I thought had been buried underneath burnout, parenting, aging and the weight of worry in this time. While I’ll sing along in the car to “Irreplaceable” or dance to “CUFF IT” in the privacy of my home, these are the “cringe” (to quote my children) solo endeavors of a late 40-something woman who doesn’t feel she belongs on TikTok and respects the culture Beyoncé fosters too much to appropriate it. Concerts, however, are communal by design – permission, if you will, to let go among unjudgmental company. If Beyoncé’s 2023 Renaissance World Tour drew comparisons to a post-pandemic spiritual revival, her Cowboy Carter performance in Los Angeles last month - my first time seeing her live - was my “Beytism.” I needed a rebirth. Crowded in too-little space during the peak of Covid, caring for a neurodivergent child whose sensory system is a tripwire to tiptoe around, hanging on to a career I love in a disrupted industry like it’s the last life raft of middle age, I’ve made myself smaller in recent years and realized more of my limitations than dreams. When my Ticketmaster-savvy younger colleagues invited me to go see Beyoncé, the $250 I spent on admission seemed like a small price to pay to fulfill one.