*Spoilers for the plot of Netflix’s Blood Sisters below
I have to admit, when it comes to new and original content that keeps me dialed all the way in, Netflix typically misses a few steps for me. I’m not sure if it's their competitors’ content that has me in a chokehold (hey, HBO Max, Hulu, Peacock, etc.) or if I’ve written the platform off too soon as somewhere to chill with old throwback faves. Either way, one Sunday evening I sat down ready to tackle some work and flipped through the platforms for a show or series I could watch for more than just an hour. Now, if you’re like me, you need some background noise to help break up the work you’re about to fall headfirst into. Just me? Cool.
I landed on Netflix and immediately was greeted with a “Top 10” suggested series, Blood Sisters. Beautiful Nigerian women, shovel in hand, suspense, and…did I smell drama? Okay, I thought, let me give this a try. I hit play and put the remote down, with plans to focus on the work - while also trying to take in the plot.
Let’s just say my week would never be the same.
Side-note: This contains SOME spoiler alerts. I will not reveal everything but read at your own risk.
The story of Blood Sisters centers squarely around the importance and beauty of the relationships that are closest to us in our lives; whether chosen or blood. The series opens as we see the gorgeous Sarah and her mega-successful fiancé Kola, preparing for their engagement party. Kola immediately gives me “catered to for his whole life, while being mommy’s fave” vibes, and boy was my “f-boy” radar on point. Kola is one of three children to a villainous mother, Udak, who makes no secret that she prefers Kola over her other two children, choosing him to run their family business, and, in turn, causing a never-ending power struggle led by drugs, booze, sex and oh…hired hitmen to take baby boy Kola out. At his engagement party. Whew, I was glued all the way in.
After, we find out that golden boy Kola is just about as copper as the pennies that fall between the cracks in your purse. In fact, he’s not only jealous, controlling, and abusive, he seems to have himself convinced that it’s “normal”. Sarah and her best friend Kemi are the only ones who are over trying to act like Kola is who he isn’t and, after a beating during the party, the best friends, who have been inseparable since they were 5 years old, hatch a plan to get Sarah out of her engagement. The only problem? The plan backfires majorly and the two best friends go from trying to find a way out of a bad relationship to trying to find a way out of the venue with Kola’s dead body.
Yes, the besties are now “killers.” What happens next goes from figuring out how to get rid of the body and evidence to how to portray themselves as grieving and, finally, making a decision to run and get out of the country. Even with all the drama going on around Kola’s murder, and his evil mom, Udak, using every resource she has to remain the biggest “B”, the story has a LOT going on. Family betrayal, murder, suspense, culture, and the importance of having a ride or die bestie.
While I won’t give up any details on Kola’s murder (like who did it and why), just know that by the end you’re less sympathetic to his murder and more enamored with the true-blue love relationship between Sarah and Kemi. Never wavering. Never questioning. Honest and protective. No, I’m not advocating for having your best friend's back when they’re wrong…but I am advocating for not abandoning them when they are. Kemi and Sarah are fictional characters with real-life similarities to many best friendships out there. Whether you’ve known them forever or are newly connected, a relationship that is worthy enough of being called a “best friend” should always be a safe space to empower and be empowered, and to remind you of your worth.
Yes, most best friendships don’t involve running from organ harvesters or bounty hunters, but let's assume they did…which side are you on with your bestie? Once the police found out that two unlikely suspects were likely involved, the two best friends had a heart-to-heart. One advocating for turning themselves in and the other for running. “I never want to do anything without you being by my side,” one says to the other. It hit me hard. My best friend, Lynette, is my ride or die. From college to adulthood and now transitioning to being those pesky adult children who have to remind their parents to go to doctor’s appointments by wagging our fingers at them, we’ve been through a lot. Through every bad decision, heartbreak, side-eye, and even a disagreement, (which felt as intense as running from the law), I’ve seen the beauty of a sisterhood that doesn’t abandon but uplifts. The sisterhood that makes space for you to be you - not who you pretend to be to the outside world. The sisterhood that makes you a better person and will go to the ends of the world to make sure you see it. And vice versa.
The audience may have started the series engulfed in a toxic love story about Kola and Sarah, but we ended it realizing that the true love story was between two best friends who never gave up on each other. The idea that one person believing in and riding for you can impact your own vision for what you can and can’t do was so prevalent in the series, that I had to pause it a few times to ask myself “What would you and your bestie do?”
Blood Sisters is beautifully shot, has amazing cultural highlights, and an amazingly talented range of creatives and I’ve literally been telling everyone I know about it. Aside from the deep and meaningful relationship between the best friends, the consequences of mistreating or glorifying family members can’t be denied. It doesn’t matter who we are, how much money we have in the bank, or what fancy clothes adorn our bodies, at the end of the day, there will be a reckoning for how you treat people in your life.
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Featured Image via Netflix
With a multi-layered approach to her artistry, just as she did on that winter day in December 2013 with the infamous digital drop of her self-titled album, she changed the game again on February 1, 2023, when she announced her world tour in support of Renaissance, her seventh studio album. Her cultural impact set the internet ablaze, with everyone trying to gather their coins, barter for presale codes, and figure out which cities to attend. The group chats were lit, and the Beyhive was stressed trying to get their hands on tickets.
Photo courtesy of Dontaira Terrell
Unfortunately, I was in that number. As the concert dates passed by and the one in my city drawing near all roads led to disappointment. With time ticking on the day of the Miami show and less than two hours to spare, my wallet bit the bullet, and I purchased three last-minute tickets, costing roughly $700.00 a piece (including fees) for me, my 9-year-old and 16-year-old nieces in Section 121 at the Hard Rock Stadium. With 10 minutes before showtime, we eagerly awaited the Queen to take the stage. A sea of metallic fringes, cowboy hats, disco fans, and western boots were in full effect and filled the entire stadium.
As the lights dimmed, a flood of emotions instantly overtook my body. It continued with each note she belted, along with nearly 50,000 roaring fans. The reverberating sound of the music through the stadium transported me from one era of my life to the next. As a teen girl in her bedroom daydreaming about her first love to blossoming into an unapologetic Black woman who is still on a road of self-discovery while learning to lean into the power anthem of "You won't break my soul." For over two hours, and with each set, I felt joy, love, peace, and a commanderie with fellow concertgoers. It was therapeutic as I danced like no one was watching and sang as if I were alone in my bathroom mirror.
There were no bars held, and I realized at that moment, "Nobody can judge me but me." The "Renaissance World Tour" proved to be so vast, and my Black girl joy was re-invigorated. It was magnetic and liberating, and I had to attend again, but this time, I needed to be up close and personal; I needed to be on the floor. In the days that passed, I watched more social media clips in different cities and asked myself if I would really splurge again to attend another Renaissance show.
Photo courtesy of Dontaira Terrell
After all, this would be my thirteenth time (maybe more because I lost count) seeing Beyoncé live, whether she was on tour with Destiny's Child, as a solo artist, or doing a live appearance. I contemplated for a while, but it worked itself out on its own. I was gifted two tickets and the next thing I knew, I was off to LA to attend another Renaissance show with floor seats at SoFi Stadium during Beyonce's 42nd birthday weekend! This time, things were different: no kids were allowed. It was adults only this go round.
Although the energy at the Miami and Los Angeles shows was empowering, infectious, and a celebration of life, happiness, and identity, they each provided their own unique experience. However, both concerts were what I needed for my well-being, leaving me with sore feet from dancing the night away, on vocal rest for the next few days from screaming at the top of my lungs, and on an indefinite high on life.
My introduction and love for Beyoncé began in 1996, while my older sister lived in Houston, TX, right before Bey hit the scene in 1998 with "No, No, No" as a budding R&B member. Her evolution twenty-seven years later as an international superstar and into womanhood has been an incredible journey to witness. As Mrs. Carter reminds each of us in the audience every night before the curtain closes, "I want you to remember this moment, where you're standing, who you came with, and take it with you. I hope you feel inspired."
I truly felt inspired, so thank you, Queen Bey. You awakened my inner child, and I will definitely remember these moments and take them with me.
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Feature image by Kevin Mazur/WireImage for Parkwood
