Megan Thee Stallion Was More Than a Hot Girl at Moody Center

Megan Thee Stallion owns the stage (Photo by David Brendan Hall)

In the sultry early evening of a mid-June Thursday, ladies and lads had asses out, glorious bodies on display in various forms of dress (oftentimes, more on the un- side of that) to support the queen of spicy seasonal shenanigans. Hot Girl Summer indeed.

Folx were laid out, you hear me. They had the opportunity and the vast majority of attendees took it. The DJ played a mixture of hits from rap and R&B artists. (Beyoncé, of course, had heavy rotation, and the song of the summer, Aubrey club eulogy "Not Like Us," got the most crowd participation.) As a digital countdown ticked away the seconds to zero (perfectly synchronized in "A-minooooor"), the music faded out, the lights lowered, and the crowd's excitement reached a foundation-shattering pitch.

GloRilla Glows

GloRilla glows under the spotlight (Photo by David Brendan Hall)

First things first, GloRilla is a ray of unrestrained sunshine. Her smile was so bright, her energy so infectious, she almost didn't need a spotlight. Clips of her most popular tracks played on the large arena screens, naturally instigating more raucous cheers from the audience. The show begins on a severe downbeat, and Moody Center is lit the hell up!

Amidst all the self-professed rachetry (and there was plenty of that), the overarching sentiment is positivity, confidence, not allowing even the darkest times to dictate who you are. GloRilla epitomizes a ubiquitous sentiment of anyone from this Z generation: freedom of self at all costs. While some could argue this is a distraction, placation, pacification, that is sort of the point. As much as it hurts to admit, millennial cynicism has rubbed off, as has the pain, tumbled down from a generation of people who were never allowed to reckon with their trauma.

This generation now intentionally acts on its desire for escapism, and artists like GloRilla give them that escape, while bringing them down to earth, in at least some small part, during her crowd interactions. When the music comes to a record scratch halt, she does what so many artists don't always do in earnest: She checks in with her audience. It feels sincere here, and her set is the perfect microcosm of that – dance, twerk, sing, shout, escape; then it's time to quiet the noise for a moment to really affirm yourself. While it's not so much digging deeper into the hurt, it is acknowledging that it's there and allowing you a way to blow off that steam.

That need for affirmation includes a healthy dose of shit-talkin’. "They say they don't fuck with me, but I say they can't fuck with me," she proclaims with vicious swagger. The song ends, and she breaks out in a smile that could light up Austin. She was even sometimes upstaged by her dancers as she got wrapped up in the joy of performing.

But don't let the acrobatics fool you. GloRilla's energy permeates the noise. Watching her performance has a similar feeling as the collective joy of watching a kid who was given permission to sing their favorite song at the top of their lungs and was promised their favorite dessert afterward. Effervescence is the word. She exudes joy, and the audience gives it back to her in cheers, screams, yelling her lyrics back at her, listening when she speaks. What more could you ask for?

Megan Erupts

Hot Girl Shit (Photo by David Brendan Hall)

There's a short intermission, in which the DJ plays more hits. Then much like the opener's set, the lights go out – aural pandemonium ensues. The screens sizzle with simulated fire, and the crowd is activated. There's a moment of silence at the first crackle of impending thunder, a chorus of "Megan! Megan! Megan!" starts from the rafters. Then here comes the boom!

The band lays in and means it! Listen, regardless of your thoughts on her musically, when Megan is onstage, she gives every ounce of herself from the first word. Homegirl raps hard! Clutching the mic by the throat with her expertly manicured nails, she actually raps harder than she dances. (If you know anything about her even tangentially, you know that's a feat of core strength and knee stability that most could only pray to have a fraction of). There's a reason her attire of choice includes heavy combat-style boots. She is going to war, and her air horn is a microphone.

Megan is a beautiful Black woman, that's not up for debate. She's an anime nerd and fashions herself an onyx Sailor Moon. She retains that cuteness throughout her show. But make no mistake, she is sweating onstage. She means it just as much as her band. She channels the spirit of Salt ’n Pepa here. (Don't lie to yourself about that group of ferocious women; "Push It" wasn't a church song.)

For her first-ever tour, Megan pulled out every stop she and her creative team could think of. Every aspect of this stage show is phenomenal. The light show is impressive and very smartly executed (pyrotechnics synced to her musical stabs, a simulated thermometer that rises in "temperature" the more the fever of her lyricism elevates). The video production is also brilliant. When Megan hits her marks, the images are an extension of herself. Snake imagery, silhouettes of Megan moving in all her sensual glory, butterfly wings, liquid representations of the female form. Very femme forward, woman positive. (Argue with your mama, not me.) Every aspect of this production put in work.

The production work illustrates the genuine sensitivity of the artist. Megan is an emotional performer. She leaves everything on the floor. Take her or leave her, she's going to show you nearly every aspect of who she is as a human (as much as one can do that at the status of celebrity she is). "I promised myself I wasn't gonna cry during this song," she proclaims before her performance of "Cobra," the camera focusing on her face. "But if I do cry these are happy tears because I'm so happy to be home." She takes moments throughout the show to affirm every person in the audience "You are important. You are loved. And somebody does give a damn!" The show from top to bottom is all about affirmation, about proclaiming yourself without apology and without fear. For nearly three hours, the Moody Center was a safe space.

Megan truly loves her audience (though she didn't want to make other states jealous). She signs nearly everything she's passed, invites people onstage to live the Hot Girl experience: A truly immersive concert. By the time she introduces Texas legend Paul Wall, every person in the Moody Center is beside themselves. This was a homecoming for the ages for most in attendance.

Future Free

Yes, there's a spectacle, what those who decry the sexualism often portrayed in a lot of rap music (since Freaknik days, #IYKYK). But GloRilla, Megan the Stallion, the entire point of it is fearless, unapologetic confidence of self. For Black, woman-identified folx particularly, self-confidence, true and honest confidence of self, is hard to come by when the body is policed, when the body is an object, when the human isn't allowed to celebrate every aspect of themselves without persecution or fear of harm – no matter what that celebration looks like.

Megan Thee Stallion promotes freedom of expression (Photo by David Brendan Hall)

While many would turn their noses up and sneer, this is Black joy, shared among everyone, of course. But at the root of it is freedom, and shows like Megan's Hot Girl Summer Tour affirm that no one has the right to tell you how to celebrate your moments of freedom.