Taylor Swift and the politics of our humanity
Taylor Swift sings the words many of us feel, but don’t say. Her cosmic success is a marvel, but behind it all is the simple power of her humanity.
I confess to being a Swiftie, but call me a late convert. I remember hearing Taylor Swift’s music and thinking it wasn’t particularly deep or evocative. It was catchy pop fare, and I happen to prefer something different. What social credit is there to be gained by listening to a pop sensation? At a time when cred was what I was after, Taylor didn’t fit the bill. The music I listened to was much more cerebral or political in nature—think Rage Against the Machine, System of a Down, Bad Religion, and Social Distortion. Those artists captured my mind and changed how I saw the world. Taylor was doing something else.
Yet as I kept listening, the lyrics grew on me in a way that only genuinely emotional pop music can. A fraction of some of the examples that captivate me:
On “All Too Well (10 Minute Version [Taylor’s version]),” she offers, “And then you call me up again / just to break me like a promise / so casually cruel / in the name of being honest.” Her heartbreaking writing breaks my own.
On “Out of the Woods,” she sings, “your necklace hanging from my neck / the night we couldn't quite forget / when we decided / to move the furniture so we could dance, baby, like we stood a chance.” Her imagination and idealism linger despite knowing the cruel reality of love.
She duets with Bon Iver in “Exile,” singing, “I never learned to read your mind (never learned to read my mind) / I couldn't turn things around (you never turned things around) / 'Cause you never gave a warning sign (I gave so many signs).” Oh, how relatable in a break up, Taylor. The defense of not being a mind reader, met with never seeing the signs—she gave so many signs.
Finally, “You’re On Your Own, Kid,” brings us, “Everything you lose is a step you take / So make the friendship bracelets / Take the moment and taste it / You've got no reason to be afraid.” She tells us that even in our pain, we can find hope, progress, the next thing.
I slowly added her songs to my playlist, and before I knew it, she was the artist I listened to most. Over the years, I’ve been inspired by her vulnerability, her faith, her growth, and her ability to journey from era to era. I listen to her every day, and I love every minute of it. Her humanity—i.e. her ability to express emotions we can all relate to—is the source of her wide appeal and astronomical success.
Swift’s life has become a trending topic. Her relationship with Travis Kelce, her coded queerness, and whether she can make it to Las Vegas on time from Tokyo for the Super Bowl—these have become headline news items. Remarkably, the power of her presence even made the dinner conversation at my parents’ house the other day. I never thought my dad would know who Taylor Swift was, and I certainly didn’t expect him to discuss the implications of her potential endorsement of Joe Biden. But there she was, at our table. And everyone seemed to have something to say.
Taylor Swift matters. Sure, she could probably rage against the machine if she wished (and within the recording industry, she certainly has done that), but she prefers not to.
As I watched her accept her fourth “album of the year” award at the Grammy’s (the first artist ever to do so), her brief acceptance speech was winning for its simplicity. She thanked her fans, praised her producer and coworkers, and embraced the joy of the moment. Taylor Swift reminds us that authenticity, while not revolutionary, is a good place for each one of us to start making the world better.
And there is more! While I’m a firm believer that Taylor still bleeds green and is a lover of the Philadelphia Eagles, I appreciate her support for her boyfriend’s team, as she dons a red Kansas City jacket with lipstick to match. Without saying so much as a political word, she has evoked feverish theories about how her relationship with Kelce will have political consequences. She draws the ire of men who the miniscule amount of screen time she gets during a football broadcast. Trump has even declared “a holy war” on her. Of course, MAGA anger is anything but precise, but it’s particularly troubling when a woman being loved for her music is met with such massive male grievance. A successful woman drawing contempt with completely innocent, largely inoffensive music tells us more about her attackers than about her. History seems to be using her in a way none of us, including Swift, herself, could have predicted.
Her success stands for itself, and thus generates some haters. She doesn’t need to be overt about the issues of the day to have an impact on them. Her ability to help us access our everyday feelings of love, romance, jealousy, heartbreak, and loss gives us the unique ability to unite people. The shared humanity that her music generates is political and powerful in its own right. And while I never thought I’d say this, gives us a sort of political impact whose power is almost surprising.
The joy in her music is palpable. I can’t help but dance and sing along. In her moments of sadness and melancholy, I feel mine too. The space she provides for her fans to find themselves in her music, gives us a sort of template through which to understand ourselves. So for my part, I wish her continued success as we all get to experience, not only some great music, but also ourselves a little bit more. And hey, maybe her fans will save democracy too.