I just don’t understand Taylor Swift. I said it there. (DISCLAIMER: I AM NOT DISGRACED. I WISH YOU ALL THE HAPPINESS AND SUCCESS IN THE WORLD. PLEASE, I HAVE A FAMILY.)
It’s liberating to just…not care about something, right? When my friends start waxing poetic about the Eras Tour or their favorite Taylor Swift song, I listen politely as if they were talking about professional darts or French cinema, and a sense of peace washes over me.
I don’t need to love things, I think to myself. I don’t need to hate them either. I can just watch them pass by like a leaf carried by a river current and say, “Well, that certainly exists!”
Of course, it’s much harder when, from all indications, it’s made specifically for you to enjoy.
While Taylor Swift can appeal to anyone, there’s real data that shows what just one look at an Eras Tour crowd or a simple walk outside can tell you: Swifties are more likely to be suburban white millennial women like me . Far more qualified minds than mine have written about the tension between Swift’s position as a “voice of a generation” and the extent to which that voice speaks or does not speak to listeners of color. That’s a different conversation worth having, but it’s not the one I’m talking about here.
Taylor Swift performs as part of the ‘Eras Tour’ at the Tokyo Dome, on Wednesday, February 7, 2024, in Tokyo. (Toru Hanai / AP Photo)
What bothers me is the constant framing of Taylor Swift’s music among my peers (or at least among my census-designated demographic) as an unassailable communion between girl and woman: a favorable review of “The Tortured Poets Department” in The Spectator calls Swift “the tortured voice of millennials.” On a recent episode of BBC NewsNight, author Kat McKenna said that “the uniqueness of Taylor Swift is that she speaks to an audience that she doesn’t always speak to.”
While I don’t begrudge people that kind of connection, There are only so many times you can hear the lyrics of “Cardigan” or “Cruel Summer” invoked like prayers before you start to feel like something is wrong with you.
You kept me like a secret, but I kept you like an oath.
You showed me colors that you know I can’t see with anyone else.
Great lines! Beautiful lines. For many fans, these stanzas are life-affirming poetry, or at least quotable enough to adorn shirts, pillows, and Stanley mugs as crystallizations of his own identity.
But are they really that unique? I’ve never gotten anything from a Taylor Swift song about love, loss, heartbreak, revenge, shame, or self-actualization that I couldn’t have gotten from dozens of other artists. Honestly, I feel like I missed a day in the white women’s class. when they explained, in detail, all the ley lines of female kinship that are supposed to connect our paths to hers.
Again, respect to Taylor Swift lovers. I have seen, firsthand, thousands of women at the starting gate of a new 10 km race singing “You Belong With Me” at the top of their lungs at 4:15 am. From inside the cocoon of my noise-cancelling headphones, he seemed cheerful. and fun, and who in the world could fault that?
Maybe that’s why the whole “not-care-about-Taylor-Swift” thing hurts. I feel like I’m missing something. I feel like the gears of my life, and maybe even my identity, would be a little more lubricated if I could generate a single independent thought about Taylor Swift other than “She seems like a suitable role model!” or “I really admire her commitment to good bangs!”
(If you think this apathy comes from a place of snobbery, ha, you’re wrong! I don’t have good taste in music. My most listened to songs on Spotify are gospel hymns in Spanish and things with names like “438mHz Relaxing Tone Therapy.” “for very delicate people”).
Taylor Swift performs on the opening night of the global Eras Tour on March 17, 2023 in Arizona. (Kevin Winter/Getty Images via CNN Newsource)
Until recently, admitting that you didn’t enjoy Taylor Swift’s music was a strangely political statement. Said in the wrong circles, even such a mild admission could get you branded as a hater, a misogynist, a bore, or one of those grown women still playing the “I’m not like other girls” card.
That’s not an exaggeration. The Cut recently published an article about a woman who ended a relationship with a friend who didn’t like Taylor Swift. Most alarmingly, Paste Magazine decided not to sign its critical review of “Poets” because, according to an editor’s note the publication published in of violence from readers who did not agree with the work.” While these are extremes, there is always some anxiety in admitting that you don’t care about something that you seem to care about deeply.
However, Taylor Swift’s days as the definitive cultural barometer may be waning. While Swift’s fans were excited about the release of her new double album (again, good for them!), her critical reception was more mixed. After the feverish media whirlwind of “The Eras Tour” and her impact on the NFL season by supporting her boyfriend, Kansas City Chiefs player Travis Kelce, people seem willing to talk about Swift in more temperate tones than the drooling ardor or the hardened and useless hatred. .
If you don’t love Taylor Swift, if you don’t hate her; If she’s just not something that affects your life at all, it’s probably safe to come out now. Go, take your apathy and be free.
AJ Willingham He is a senior editor at CNN Digital in Atlanta. He covers internet subcultures, religion, positive news, and various obsessions.