The Hidden Symbolism of “Blackbird”: A Song for the Moment That Never Ended
On the surface, “Blackbird” is a gentle, finger-picked ballad—one of Paul McCartney’s most stripped-down and serene songs. But beneath its calm exterior lies a song soaked in symbolism, rooted in a moment of history when America was cracking open, and the world was watching.
Illustration by J.D. Humphreys
The year was 1968. McCartney, then with the Beatles in India on a meditation retreat, claimed he first heard the calling of a blackbird there—though in later interviews, he also mentioned Scotland. The origin story varies, but the intent never does.
The song emerged in a decade ablaze with transformation and turmoil. Civil rights had reached a boiling point. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. and Robert F. Kennedy were assassinated within months of each other. Richard Nixon just won the presidency. Black Americans were still fighting for equal rights—facing down firehoses, mobs, and the enduring weight of systemic racism. In this crucible, “Blackbird” quietly took flight.
Birds, and blackbirds in particular, have long been symbols of struggle and freedom. Enslaved Africans once saw birds as emblems of liberation—creatures that could soar above a world built to contain them. In that tradition, the blackbird sings not of sorrow but of resistance.
LISTEN TO “BLACKBIRD” BY THE BEATLES
Behind closed doors, the song’s meaning was clear. On November 22, 1968, during an informal rehearsal at EMI Studios before he and Donovan joined a Mary Hopkin recording session, McCartney played “Blackbird” and explained to Donovan that he had written it after “reading something in the paper about the riots,” adding that he meant the black “bird” to symbolize a Black woman. And once again mentioned it in 1969.
Then, curiously, the explanation vanished for over three decades. The cultural moment had turned volatile. The Manson Family had twisted Beatles lyrics into a murderous prophecy. The White Album, which housed “Blackbird,” was weaponized by Charles Manson and his cult as a coded call to race war.
“Blackbird singing in the dead of night
Take these broken wings and learn to fly
All your life
You were only waiting for this moment to arise.”
To Manson and his followers, those lines were not poetry—they were prophecy. In the words of Tex Watson, mass murderer and one of Manson’s key conspirators:
“[The White Establishment] would slaughter thousands of Blacks, but actually only manage to eliminate all the Uncle Toms, since the true Black race would have hidden, waiting for their moment.”
It’s no wonder that McCartney and the Beatles distanced themselves from such twisted interpretations. The world wasn’t ready to parse a song’s subtle alignment with the Civil Rights Movement when that very movement was under siege.
It wasn’t until 2002, in a quiet radio interview with KCRW, that McCartney finally said it plainly: “Blackbird” was about the Little Rock Nine. The nine brave Black students who, in 1957, integrated Little Rock Central High School under a storm of racial hatred. They walked through crowds that screamed at them for wanting to learn. Blackbird was McCartney’s tribute to that bravery—a song he hoped would float across the ocean and bring them strength.
He made the connection public again in October 2018, while performing at the Austin City Limits Festival. Standing in front of a cheering crowd, he introduced “Blackbird” with a mix of humor and reverence:
“This next song is from the 1960s. That’s midcentury, you know—like 1860-something. Back in the ‘60s, there were a lot of troubles going on, seriously, about civil rights, particularly in some of the southern states like Alabama and places like Little Rock. We heard about this in England and I wanted to try and write a song which, if it ever got back to those people going through the struggles, it might have some effect and might help give them a little hope.”
Then he sang the song once more—for them, and for everyone still fighting to arise.
“We heard about this in England and I wanted to try and write a song which, if it ever got back to those people going through the struggles, it might have some effect and might help give them a little hope.”
- Paul McCartney in 2018
The song has always found resonance within the Black community. Over the years, it’s been covered by the likes of Sarah Vaughan, Sylvester, and most recently, Beyoncé, who included her version of “Blackbird” (“BLACKBIIRD”) on her 2024 Cowboy Carter album—a celebration of Black excellence in a genre long dominated by white artists. Each version renews its purpose, giving the song a new voice and generation.
LISTEN TO “BLACKBIIRD” BY BEYONCÉ
But McCartney wasn’t the first to use a blackbird as a metaphor for Black liberation.
Nina Simone. Illustration by J.D. Humphreys
Two years before Blackbird, Nina Simone—the High Priestess of Soul—released a protest song of the same name. Her “Blackbird” was raw and aching, pulsing with the trauma of enslavement and systemic violence, especially as endured by Black women. The beat, almost ancestral in tone, evoked the Middle Passage— a stark reminder that America’s darkest histories are not as distant as they seem, especially now, as some school systems quietly strip these truths from textbooks and allow parents to sidestep lessons rooted in diversity, justice, LGBTQ+ identity, and the lived experience of Black communities.
Simone’s song is somber, defiant, militant. McCartney’s is gentle but no less political. Both are love songs to resilience. Both refuse to let the Black experience be overlooked.
The Beatles. Illustration by J.D. Humphreys
The Beatles were not civil rights leaders but unlike many artists of their era, they stood with conviction. They openly credited Little Richard, Fats Domino, and Motown as their greatest influences—not as curiosities to steal from, but as legends to respect and learn from. They refused to play segregated venues in the U.S., and in 1964, they boldly canceled a performance at the Gator Bowl in Jacksonville, Florida when they learned it would be segregated. They never faltered in standing on the right side of history.
In the end, “Blackbird” is more than a song. It’s a quiet anthem—a melody of solidarity, whispered across oceans and generations. Its meaning may have been obscured for decades, but like the bird itself, it was only waiting for its moment to arise.
