9.4, We were outside: a rain-soaked rodeo at MetLife Stadium
I respect things that take work, I respect things that are built from the ground up. I’m super specific about every detail.
Hello, friends!
Let me tell you something: Beyoncé in the rain hits different. My sister and I discovered this firsthand at her Cowboy Carter tour stop at MetLife this past Wednesday. Yes, it rained. Yes, we were soaked. And no, not for one second did we consider leaving. Because when Beyoncé calls, you show up. We pulled up in our raincoats and got baptized in the downpour, and in country soul.
From the moment the screen lit up, it was clear this wasn't just another spectacle (though she delivers that too). Cowboy Carter is something deeper. It's political, spiritual, rootsy, and wild. It's Beyoncé reclaiming and redefining American music on her own terms, and taking us with her into the wide open. She blends rock, gospel, country, and hip-hop into one seamless, unapologetic soundscape.
The highlights? Daughter was a religious experience. Tyrant was stunning. Jolene: she reclaimed it with quiet power while cruising on an elevated horseshoe. "Sweet Honey Buckiin'" nearly lifted the stadium five inches off the ground. And "Texas Hold 'Em"? The hive was buzzing!
Somehow, amid all the pyrotechnics, and video interludes, and razzle-dazzle, she still made space for soul. You could feel it when she spoke to the crowd: grateful, generous, present. (There was even a gender reveal, lol ). A woman fully in her power, on her terms.
And the Hive? Immaculate. Cowboy hats. Leather fringe. Denim on denim. Every person looked like they were part of the show; and honestly, they were. It was community; the kind of collective vibe you can’t fake. We were outside, drenched, singing like we’d been waiting forever to be part of something this wild and this true.
The rain didn’t ruin it. The rain made it.
There’s something elemental about standing in a storm while Beyoncé builds a world in front of you. You’re cold. Wet. Your outfit, carefully planned and full of intention, has gone rogue. But the music starts. The lights rise. And suddenly, you don’t care. You transcend.
That's the thing: joy doesn't live in perfect conditions. It doesn't wait for good hair or dry socks. It shows up inside the discomfort. The downpour stripped away the polish and left us with the raw stuff: laughter, movement, togetherness.
We were shoulder-to-shoulder in a shared mess, dancing through it, fully present, surrendering to the night, to the music, to the Queen commanding the stage in the middle of a storm. There was something liberating about not being able to control the environment. It made the joy feel earned. Real. Lived.
There's a Stoic undercurrent here that I can't resist exploring: the obstacle is the way. The storm wasn't the enemy. It made us more present, more embodied, more connected. In a culture obsessed with comfort and curation, discomfort can shock us back into real gratitude. When we choose to keep dancing through it, that's when joy cracks open.
Beyoncé didn’t just deliver. She transcended. She gave us art, healing, spectacle, country, cosmos, chrome, and church.
It wasn’t just a concert; it was a movement in motion. A reclamation. A homecoming. And I wouldn’t have missed it for anything.
We were outside, soaked, and completely alive.
The Links:
In Quotes...
I respect things that take work, I respect things that are built from the ground up. I’m super specific about every detail…I personally selected each dancer, every light, the material on the steps, the height of the pyramid, the shape of the pyramid, every patch was hand-sewn. Every tiny detail had an intention.”
Beyoncé, Homecoming, 2019