Karrine Superhead Steffans Confession: “I Am Becky With The Good Head… I Mean… Hair”

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“If we are silent about our pain, they will kill us and say we enjoyed it.”
-Zora Neale Hurston

A woman is all things.

She is your Becky. She is your Beyoncé.

She is the embodiment of all that is light, all that is dark, all that is all. She is your wife. She is your whore. She is your priestess and your infidel. A woman is your lover, your hater, your everything and she is nothing to you at all. She cries for you. She laughs at you. She is your forgiveness. She is your vengeance and your concession, your cover, your nakedness.

A woman is all things.

“Ashes to ashes, dust to side chicks.”

Over 15 years ago, I had Beyoncé’s husband.

Yes, I was one of Jay Z’s Beckys back in the year 2000 for about three minutes, which is about as long it takes me to satisfy a man in the back of a Maybach while overlooking the beaches of Malibu.

I was a 21-year-old California transplant who’d been tossed into my first music video after a fateful meeting with director Hype Williams. A single mother raising my son on my own, I jumped at the chance to make $2,500 a day to dance around and look pretty next to the artist — Jay Z. He was a long-time friend of my cousin, Chuck, and after a call from him, Jay knew to keep me close, making sure I got loads of camera time. This was the beginning of my stint as a video girl, and one day Jay and I stole away for some time alone toward the end of the day.

Chauffeured away from the set, down the winding road, and closer to the shoreline, Jay and I feasted on our attraction to one another — rabidly and quickly. After just a few minutes, I lifted my head from his lap, wiped my lips, and knew we’d made a mistake. Over the next few years, I would see Jay again, as I became close with his then business partner Damon Dash. We never mentioned our Malibu melee and acted as if it never happened. My cousin Chuck would be livid.

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