Beyonce Part 1 -

She stood up. The others followed.

As they walked to the car, Beyoncé glanced back at the studio window. A man was watching from the third floor—a producer who had just told her father, "Girl groups are dead."

She didn't smile. She just walked off the stage, sat down next to her little sister, Solange, and asked, "Can we get ice cream now?"

That was the secret. Even at seven, Beyoncé knew the difference between performing and living. On stage, she was a hurricane. Off stage, she was quiet. A watcher. A student. beyonce part 1

Beyoncé shook her head slowly. "No," she said. "They're just not ready for us yet."

Years later, in a sweaty rehearsal studio, that same girl would be a teenager. The group was called Girls Tyme, then something else, then finally Destiny's Child . The record deals fell through. Managers lied. Other groups got signed instead.

Here is of a story about Beyoncé. The humid Houston air clung to the walls of the tiny church on St. John Street. The lights were low, save for a single spotlight that hit the worn wooden floor of the stage. A little girl, no more than seven, stood in the center. Her name was Beyoncé. She stood up

The crowd was just family and a few elderly parishioners—but to Beyoncé, it was the Superdome. She closed her eyes, remembering the way her grandmother, Miss Hattie, had taught her to breathe. "From the belly, baby," she would whisper. "Let God push it out."

Her mother, Tina, had spent the afternoon ironing the hem of her glittering white dress. Her father, Mathew, was sitting in the back pew, arms crossed, eyes sharp. He had bet a fellow sound engineer fifty dollars that his daughter would bring the house down. He never lost bets.

The piano player struck a C chord. Then another. A man was watching from the third floor—a

Part 1 of the making of a queen.

Beyoncé looked at the sky. No stars. Just the orange haze of Houston light pollution.