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Tina Knowles has long been the brains behind her daughters’ musical endeavors, having raised both Beyoncé and Solange and instilling in her girls a strength that she has been carrying since her days as Celestine Beyoncé, Tina’s birth name. In her newly published book Matriarch: A Memoir, Tina finally shares her own story.
Matriarch traces back Tina’s family lineage across centuries, detailing memories of growing up in Galveston, Texas, as well as her Louisiana roots. She vividly recounts harrowing incidents of racism, bullying, and family turmoil that shaped the woman she is today. Amid the heartache, Tina holds onto joy, remembering the life lessons from her late nephew John “Johnny” Rittenhouse — often referred to as “Uncle Johnny” by Beyoncé — building her career in Houston, channeling pure emotion when designing costumes and fashions, and learning to turn her pain into art.
To her friends and family, Tina was and is still known by several nicknames. Tenie by her mother; Badass Tenie B by her siblings; Lucy by Johnny; Mama by Bey and Solange; and Miss Tina by her daughters’ fans. At the foundation of all of these identities are resolve and perseverance, and at 71 years old, these hallmarks of her personality have not faded.
The Hollywood Reporter caught up with Tina shortly before Matriarch’s publishing day. At the time of our conversation, she, unsurprisingly, was juggling a lot. In addition to help Bey plan for the upcoming Cowboy Carter Tour, she is also gearing up for a book tour to promote Matriarch. Needless to say, Tina has her hands full, but as longtime fans know, this is nothing she can’t handle.
I’m sure people have been asking you to write a book for years. Why did you feel now was the right time to share your story?
Well, they have, and I had started over 10 years ago, just recording my life story into my phone — not to publish, but for my grandchildren and my great-grandchildren. I never got to meet my grandparents, and I was always bugging my mama to know things about them. And some things, she didn’t even know! When this opportunity came up two years ago, there were a lot of things that happened. I was having a conversation with Beyoncé, and she read this quote to me — “the best thing you can do for your children is to prepare them for when you’re not going to be here anymore” — and that just really struck me, because you don’t think about your own mortality. I’m 71 years old, but at that time, I thought, “I gotta really get serious about this.” The intention was to go back to recording, because I hadn’t done it in several years. And then all of a sudden [Penguin Random House] called me. They had called me before to say, “Oh, someone made you an offer for a book deal.” And I’m like, I’m not doing a book because I didn’t want to. First off, I didn’t feel like people would be that interested in my story. They would want to know things about my kids. But it just came at a time that I was open to writing my history down.
I like how you highlighted Galveston’s rich history. I’m from Dallas, and I feel like Galveston often goes ignored in the conversation about cultural significance. Would you agree?
Oh absolutely. I have been talking about Galveston forever. I would talk to people about Central High School, which was so different, and so ahead of its time. They had a state-of-the-art building, they had an Olympic swimming pool. It was the first Black high school to have all these things, and people came from all across the country to teach there. It just has such a rich history. And I didn’t know all of the things about the Black Wall Street there, so that’s been a history lesson for me. I knew Galveston was unique and different and ahead of its time compared to other cities. I’m really happy to talk about that because of course, you hear about Houston, you hear about Dallas, but you never hear about Galveston. Nobody ever knows what Galveston is, other than the Glen Campbell song that he did. Which is before your time.
I can tell you did a lot of thorough research on Galveston, Weeks Island, and of course, your family lineage. What did the research process entail for this book?
I had someone that helped me, his name is Kevin Carr O’Leary, and he is amazing. I had done whatever [research] I could, but he was able to really dig deep and get all this history together. The stories are my authentic stories. They’re my words. But when it came to fact-checking and researching, Kevin was the person who did that. He is truly amazing, and I couldn’t have done this book without him.
It’s amazing that you remember all of these moments so vividly! Did you keep diaries growing up?
No, I did not keep diaries, but I have an incredible memory of things that happened when I was a child. I’m the youngest of seven kids, but five of us grew up together, and I had to hear the stories of Badass Tenie B all my life, and the crazy stuff that I did. Sometimes my sister and I were talking, and I was like “I remember those things, but sometimes I wonder if I truly remember every detail,” and I have my older siblings to remind me. They always reminded me of the things that I did, so I’m sure that I have a good memory about it, but I’ve heard the stories, and I’m still hearing the stories.
I really love the stories about your sister Flo and her rebellious nature. Was Flo the inspiration behind Solange’s song, “Stay Flo?”
I don’t think so, but that’s a good analogy. I’ll have to ask her. Flo still has that spirit. She’s 81 years old. She’s still not taking shit from anyone, and she’s a firecracker. I was born on her birthday, so we’re both firecrackers.
I’ve noticed that a lot of the stories you recounted in the book have repeated themselves years later. Like the story about a doctor not believing you during a visit and giving you a painful exam. Years later, people like Bey and Serena Williams have shared similar stories. And it makes me wonder, why racism is still prevalent within the medical field.
I don’t understand it, because it has no place there. I guess it just comes back from years and years of not thinking of Black people as human. It still permeates in medicine and it’s very unfortunate.
Throughout the book, you recall handling traumatic situations alone. Like coming home after getting married when your dad has a heart attack. How have you learned to embrace community today?
I’m a lot better with it, but it’s a constant struggle. I am very independent, and I like to do everything myself, and so I constantly struggle with not wanting to do it all by myself. That still is a part of my personality, believing that I can do it all by myself without help.
In addition to the stories of traumatic moments, there is also a lot of joy in the book. I loved the stories about going to Kon Tiki with your nephew Johnny.
If there’s something that I feel so good about and that makes me smile, it’s recounting all of the memories with Johnny. We had such a close bond and such a unique story, and that has been a great joy for me — for people to get to know him. Bey made the song “Heated” and she talks about Johnny making her dress. People are saying Johnny’s name, and they are wanting to know about him. So I am loving the fact that they’ll get to know his personality and how wonderful he was, not just for making dresses, but just being the most unique human being in the world.
One of my favorite quotes that you recounted from Johnny was “don’t sleepwalk through life.” What are some other lessons of his you’ve carried with you throughout your journey?
Johnny just lived out loud. He didn’t care what people thought or what they would say. I think that is something that he taught me — just to live out loud, and to laugh, and to make fun of stuff and not be so damn serious about it, because it ain’t that serious. You know, this too shall pass. That’s something that my mom always said to us, but me and Johnny said it all the time too. Thank God, he grew up in a family that was accepting of him and appreciated and celebrated him. He had to be bold, still, with other people outside of that family, because people were really mean back then. Well, they still are, but especially back in that time. So he had a lot of philosophies.
In one passage, you recall Beyoncé’s early days in Girls Tyme and Destiny’s Child, and how they made sure they were frugal because they would have to pay that money back to the label. You write, “For generations, Black artists had been targeted with bad royalty rates, losing the control of and profit from the music they made.” Having been in the business so many years, have you found that this has gotten better or worse now?
That’s what they did. They advanced all this money, and you know, you’re caught up in it. You haven’t had money, and so you get lost in it, and you think that you don’t have to pay this money back, because it’s not made very clear. I don’t think that’s the case now, because these young artists are super smart. They’re owning their masters, they’re fighting, and they’re they’re negotiating better deals because of education. They don’t let people do that to them. I don’t think that they only did that to Black artists, but I think they did it to artists in general. Record labels did it to all artists, Black and white. That was just the game. They keep you so indebted and it’s sort of like sharecropping. That’s what I liken it to. You never get ahead. You’re like a prisoner.
One thing I’ve long admired about you and your family is your ability to turn pain into art. You channel so much emotion into your fashions, and we’ve also heard it with Bey’s Lemonade and Cowboy Carter and Solange’s A Seat At The Table. We even see it with your granddaughter Blue on the Renaissance World Tour, when she worked on her dancing after the feedback on social media. Is this something you’ve always hoped to instill — turning your pain into art?
Absolutely. I mean, that is the logical thing that you do. Out of your pain comes power and comes something beautiful. I came from a family where my mom took nothing and always turned it into something, and turned it into something beautiful. I came from a line of women who’ve had to do that. In the book, you read that both of my great-grandmothers were slaves, but they managed to keep their kids with them and not be separated, and to create beautiful things. They were all seamstresses. They were all artists. I come from a line of that, and I passed it on to my girls. Thank God.
In one passage, you talk about joining social media, against your daughters’ wishes because they’re very protective, and people are mean online. And I think “corny joke time” has become a favorite among the fans. Has there ever been a time when Bey and Solange were like “Mom, stop?”
Oh, all the time. They still do. They didn’t want me on social media again because they were trying to protect me. And you know, I make mistakes, I’m an older woman, but I embrace those I I click on the wrong thing, or misspell words… It just comes with the territory. I’ve encouraged a lot of my friends to get on social media because it’s just fun, and they were so frightened of it. And I’m like, “If you make a mistake, so what, just correct it as soon as you can.” They still are always saying “You need to take a break from social media. You need to get off Instagram.” And I’m like, “Instagram is fun for me,” and I can hear Johnny’s voice in my head saying, “Forget them. Don’t worry about that. So what.”
In parts of the book, you talk about your mom’s complicated relationship with the church — notably about how she wasn’t able to take communion because she was divorced. And in the acknowledgements, you thank God. What would you say was the key to maintaining your spirituality?
The example that my mom set for me and the lessons she taught me about faith and having God in my life and, and just being able to depend on Him and Jim protecting me and keeping me safe is the reason why I have made it through all the things that I’ve made it through and still remain positive. It’s my faith in God and God’s teaching that has saved me so many times. No one in the world can convince me that God is not protecting us. There has been a lot of sadness and pain in my life, but I always am hopeful. I always have faith that I’m gonna get through it because I know that He’s there.
Over the course of several decades, you haven’t stopped working. Even now, you’re hard at work as the vice chairperson of Cécred. Is the plan to keep working until you can’t anymore?
That’s not the plan, but it always seems to be that way, and I think working keeps me youthful. It keeps me active. It keeps me having something to look forward to every day. So it works for me. I might go to my grave with a cell phone in one hand and a product in the other.
This interview has been condensed and edited for clarity.
