I couldn’t put it down. A must have!

History is knowing who you are and where you come from. From Southern-black roots… and pecan trees… to legacy and richness. Tina takes us on her journey from matriarchs past and present. Matriarchy is more than the title - it’s self love, forgiveness, community, second chances, and leaving behind knowledge for the next generation.

I am so happy I got the experience of reading this memoir. The lessons she shares are some that I will carry with me for a long time!

I kept reading hoping it would get better…it did not. You will travel the road with Tina as she manages Bey’s career.

I truly loved what Ms. Tina poured into this memoir. Originally planned to be a thousand pages, I would have eagerly read every word. Ms. Tina shares her journey openly and vulnerably, honoring the privacy of those she loves—her daughters Beyoncé and Solange, her “bonus daughters” Kelly Rowland and Angie Beyincé, her grandchildren, and her extended family—by only sharing what they consented to reveal. This approach stands out because many memoirs often lean into sensationalism or invasive exposés for attention. Instead, Ms. Tina leads with humility, respect for boundaries, and an inspiring dignity. Ms. Tina’s reflections on her personal life—from her upbringing and complex family relationships to navigating breast cancer—deeply resonated with me. Her discussion of the origins and misspellings of the Beyincé family name (Buyincé, Beyoncé, Beyincé, Boyancé) was particularly powerful, highlighting the systemic racism and institutionalized medical discrimination that Black people have historically endured. Beyoncé’s uniquely spelled name itself becomes a symbol of resistance, reclaiming identity in the face of structural oppression. I was especially moved by the way Ms. Tina honored her nephew Johnny—affectionately known as Uncle Johnny. Though technically her cousin, their relationship felt much more like siblings given their closeness in age, emotional connection, and creative bond. He was an integral part of her household and of Beyoncé and Solange’s upbringing. His influence spanned everything from sewing and fashion design to shaping their early music tastes through house music icons like Shalamar, Diana Ross, Donna Summer, Teena Marie, and Crystal Waters. Ms. Tina’s tribute to Uncle Johnny doesn’t just memorialize him—it celebrates his brilliance and the richness of queer Black identity. Her reflections on Johnny’s life, including the challenges of being openly gay in the ‘70s and the devastating impact of the AIDS epidemic, were so tender and necessary. She shares that truth with compassion and care, helping to deconstruct the stigma that still surrounds HIV and queer identity. That kind of love, nuance, and intersectional pro-Blackness is so imperative, especially from someone of her generation—and it meant everything to read. It’s clear that Johnny’s influence was foundational to the creative spark and emotional depth of Beyoncé and Solange, just as much as their parents’. The book beautifully underscores how anti-Blackness is a global issue, yet simultaneously emphasizes Black innovation, resilience, and creativity. I admired how Ms. Tina’s profound influence shaped Beyoncé’s, Solange’s, and Kelly’s unapologetic pro-Blackness, evident in their artistry and public lives. Her memoir encourages readers, myself included, to persist, advocate fiercely for ourselves, and remain unapologetic in every choice—from love and relationships to career and personal style. Ms. Tina’s openness about difficult experiences, such as her marriage and elongated divorce from Mathew Knowles, invites powerful reflection on personal boundaries, self-worth, and the complexities of love. Her vulnerability in addressing painful rumors and conspiracies, particularly surrounding Beyoncé’s pregnancy with Blue Ivy, further humanizes their family beyond celebrity glamor, reminding us of their real emotional struggles and strengths. Ultimately, Ms. Tina’s story deeply inspires personal growth, continuous learning, and self-exploration at any age. She beautifully captures the essence of what it means to be human—loving deeply, enduring pain, seeking joy, and constantly evolving. Matriarch is not just a memoir; it’s a testament to the enduring strength and beauty of Black womanhood and a compelling call to embrace life courageously, compassionately, and unapologetically. I couldn’t have written a better memoir.