#gaylor swift x msm
Text
The New York Times is facing backlash following an opinion piece about Taylor Swift and queer sexuality that some have deemed invasive, and with everyone chiming in, things are getting messy, fast. So what’s really going on?
Last Thursday, an op-ed penned by writer Anna Marks was published in The New York Times. Although it centered around Taylor Swift, and the longstanding speculation by fans surrounding queer-flagging in her music, her relationships with women thought to be more than just friends, and the rumor that she had intended to come out during the Lover era, the heart of the piece was about how modern society seems determined to prove we still aren’t ready to embrace LGBTQ+ celebrities in the same way as (perceived) straight celebrities.
She pointed to the obsession both the media and fans have with picking apart Swift’s love life—real, perceived, or completely fabricated—and how that’s okay, so long as it remains viewed through a heteronormative lens. She discussed the difference between celebrities coming out and average people coming out, the risks that are faced, the expectations of what “coming out” looks like, and how culture has historically and repeatedly forced Sapphic readings of art to be “ignored, censored, or lost to time.”
But all some people saw was speculation—hardly new—that Taylor Swift might not be straight. And that was a problem.
CNN Business(?) gets involved.
Two days later, CNN Business put forth the claim that “Taylor Swift’s associates” were upset about the op-ed.
“Because of her massive success, in this moment there is a Taylor-shaped hole in people’s ethics,” the anonymous source said. “This article wouldn’t have been allowed to be written about Shawn Mendes or any male artist whose sexuality has been questioned by fans.
They added: “There seems to be no boundary some journalists won’t cross when writing about Taylor, regardless of how invasive, untrue, and inappropriate it is - all under the protective veil of an ‘opinion piece,’” while the article’s writer, Oliver Darcy, claimed Swift herself has refuted being part of the LGBTQ+ community. (In actuality, she once made a remark about realizing she could “advocate for a community [she’s] not a part of,” which is hardly the firm denial some want to think it is. Particularly so soon after Billie Eilish came out after explicitly saying she was straight several years earlier.)
This soon blew up, drawing more ire towards the original piece, despite several questionable aspects of the CNN article.
For one, although it’s common for sources close to a celebrity to speak to a publication about something, CNN Business is an unusual choice—which suggests an unusual source.
There was also notable pushback against the idea that nobody would speculate about a male celebrity’s sexuality, particularly when Marks herself previously wrote a similar piece about Harry Styles.
Chely Wright chimes in.
Marks’ op-ed opened by discussing the struggles country music star Chely Wright had coming out as gay back in 2010.
Despite Wright’s wife, Lauren Blitzer, initially reposting the NYT op-ed, saying, “I’ll just leave this right here,” after the backlash began, Wright herself called the piece “triggering,” “not because the writer mentioned my nearly ending my life—but seeing a public person’s sexuality being discussed is upsetting.”
Having such exquisite firsthand experience with society’s unwillingness to move away from heteronormative expectations for public figures, Wright’s opinion is both valid and understandable.
What Taylor Swift herself has said.
Swift hasn’t responded to the controversy, which is to be expected, as she rarely comments on these matters directly.
Her publicist, Tree Paine, also has not appeared to comment, whether publicly or through the trades as an anonymous source—despite taking to Twitter to directly shut down “fabricated lies” about Swift from gossip account deuxmoi less than two months ago.
Where this leaves things.
Regardless of where Swift falls on the sexuality spectrum, two things are true.
First, the big uproar about Marks’ op-ed ultimately just proves her point. The fact that so many people have repeatedly felt the need to “defend” Swift against “allegations” of possibly being queer highlights what we all know—that coming out as LGBTQ+ is still seen as a strike against someone, something that can cause damage to their career.
This is something Marks’ piece hammered home again and again, while speculating both that it would take a massive celebrity like Swift coming out to move the needle in this way of thinking and that we keep proving she would not be embraced if she did.
“For [the majority of fans], acknowledging even the possibility that Ms. Swift could be queer would irrevocably alter the way they connect with her celebrity, the true product they’re consuming,” she wrote.
Secondly, it has repeatedly been people insisting that queer celebrities who have not explicitly come out of the closet publicly are straight, rather than those speculating they might be queer, that have forced them to come out. We’ve seen this with Kit Connor, Dove Cameron, and Rita Ora in the not-so-distant past, to name a few.
So is the NYT piece causing harm? Or is it CNN Business, Taylor’s “associates,” and everyone “defending” her—when she and her team have never appeared to feel queer rumors are something she needs defending against—who are causing a bigger problem?
Marks did not call for Swift to come out—nor do most of the fans who think she may be a part of the LGBTQ+ community. Instead, they simply reaffirm the idea that nobody has to come out with a big, explicit announcement the way straight people generally expect coming out to look like, and that both queer readings of art and queer-flagging have long been a part of queer culture. They are valid, and immeasurably important in a society that still is not as accepting as it could be. Demanding “straight until proven otherwise” is an attempt to diminish that and force people out before they are ready—and that is one of the points that is being completely lost on the people who are failing to look at the bigger picture laid out so thoughtfully right in front of them.
“The stories that dominate our collective imagination shape what our culture permits artists and their audiences to say and be,” Marks wrote. “Every time an artist signals queerness and that transmission falls on deaf ears, that signal dies. Recognizing the possibility of queerness — while being conscious of the difference between possibility and certainty — keeps that signal alive.”
#gaylor swift x msm#cnn x Gaylor swift#gaylor swift x the NYT#mainstream media x gaylor#Pride magazine x gaylor swift
25 notes
·
View notes
Text
Over the next two days, we’ll be getting into all that and more with hours of presentations and deep-dive analyses. This is set to be a smallish, grassroots-y gathering—only 25 in-person campers are enrolled plus a dozen or so volunteers running the show. Meanwhile, about 300 remote Gaylors have signed up for streaming access to the learning sessions, building on the success of a virtual Gaylor summit that happened last year.
As a Gaylor myself, I’d be here even if Cosmo hadn’t sent me. I introduce myself to campers as we craft cute name tags for ourselves in the lobby of the Craigville Retreat Center. I meet Morgan, 30, who came here from conservative small-town Wisconsin, where she’s been living with her parents due to some unspecified tumult in her life. “I am desperate to be around gay people,” she tells me. When she heard about Camp Gaylore, “I jumped at the opportunity to come here and feel a sense of community.”
Paris, 25, a Boston-based attendee who grew up in Arizona, agrees. “With everything that’s happening legislatively right now, it’s really important to be able to find spaces where you’re able to be with like-minded individuals and feel safe and comfortable expressing yourself.”
Nevada, 25, a newcomer to the Gaylor realm, tells me they were able to attend only thanks to a scholarship the camp offered to defray the $350 tuition cost. “I really thought this was a dreamland that was completely out of reach for me,” they say. Just being here, in congress with others, feels like some kind of miracle.
So maybe I should revise: This weekend is about decoding Taylor Swift songs...but only sort of.
I didn’t travel far to get here, but I’ve come a long way. Four summers ago, I left my marriage to a straight man, right around the time Taylor released Lover. I had a passing familiarity with her oeuvre but didn’t consider myself much of a fan. I was crashing with friends—a lesbian couple—while searching for a new home and striving to create a more openly queer life for myself. With its pastel cover and pro-LGBTQ+ anthem “You Need to Calm Down,” Lover got a ton of airplay in that two-bedroom apartment. And the breakup songs—“Death by a Thousand Cuts,” “I Forgot That You Existed”—certainly spoke to me. But given everything I was going through, Taylor’s music felt like little more than a fluffy distraction.
Jump cut to the following July, when Taylor surprise-released folklore. Every lesbian I knew seemed weirdly excited for this album. With my divorce freshly finalized, I now had the bandwidth to dig in. I discovered Gaylor theories on TikTok and plunged into Taylor’s discography with an eye toward gay themes. For the first time, I listened—really listened—to 2017’s Reputation, an album marketed as Taylor not caring about her press coverage but could just as easily be about a secret queer romance powerful enough to blow up her life. This notion, of hiding in plain sight while inhabiting a straight-presenting persona, resonates deeply for me in queer readings of Taylor’s work.
Here at Camp Gaylore (alternately known as GayloreFest), the analysis is served up with mock-academic gravitas. “We all love to cosplay that we’re professors in this field of Gaylor education,” explains Madyson, 23, a camp co-organizer who hails from New York. To wit, the workshop lineup includes sessions like: “Darling, Everything’s on Fire”: An Exploration of The Hunger Games Through Taylor Swift’s Discography; Unpacking Parasocial Relationships: A Conversation in Favor of Imagination & Community; Friends of Fletcher: Themes in the Music and Visuals of Sapphic Singers & Songwriters; and “Now I’m Your Daisy”: Reimagining The Great Gatsby as Gilded Sapphic Fantasy.
What’s happening here is really nothing new—Gaylors are performing the kind of close reading that happens in pretty much every English lit seminar. For campers like Amanda, 30, a longtime Swiftie who discovered Gaylor theories during the pandemic while awakening to her own queerness, this interpretative exercise is more meaningful than the objective facts of Taylor’s sexuality. “I’m not over here trying to convert people like, ‘Hey, Taylor is gay, and it’s really important to me that you believe that,’” Amanda says. “It’s more about Taylor being this incredible writer who intertwines all these incredible things into her lyrics.”
“We are not the first gaggle of gays to go book a conference center and hang out with each other for a weekend just to talk and gab,” Madyson says. “It just so happens that we all met because Taylor Swift put out some bangin’-ass albums.”
“I don’t even care if she comes out,” Madyson adds. “I actually would prefer she didn’t because I think it’s more fun this way.”
After I check into my single room—a rustic BYO-bed-sheets situation—I return to the common area and settle in for the afternoon’s presentations. Remote presenters will be streaming from all over. A few campers here will be presenting too—streaming from a dedicated quiet room elsewhere on the property. In the common space, all sessions will be projected onto a wall.
And here I have to admit that I end up…not paying much attention to the material. In the best possible way, neither do many of the other campers. I watch as they focus on making friendship bracelets, add artistic flourishes to Gaylor-themed coloring pages, and paint each other’s nails. Chatty groups check in on solo folks: “Are you good by yourself? Would you like to come over here with us?” Sometimes a comfy silence envelops the room. A few campers even nap on couches, the presentation audio forming a sort of pleasant background drone.
This dynamic is striking in its chillness—different from most camps and retreats, where schedules are packed with structured group activities. Kae, a 26-year-old from Saskatoon, Saskatchewan, much prefers the format here. Although Gaylor TikTok was helpful in “expediting” her awareness of her own bisexuality, she finds the noise of social media kind of bad for her mental health. Camp Gaylore feels like the 3D version of a friendly Gaylor group chat she joined on WhatsApp a few months ago, she says. “It’s nice, having a much smaller source of information and also a place where you can just be yourself and be accepted.”
Presentation topics aside, Taylor’s aura at camp is surprisingly scarce. The aesthetic is one of nostalgic/analog summer whimsy. Think: String lights and wildflowers. Salt air and disco balls. Strawberries and rainbow balloons. An activity table set up by camp staffers includes a deck of botanical oracle cards, the social-bonding game We’re Not Really Strangers, and a handful of book selections ranging from Emily Dickinson poems to contemporary works by queer authors like adrienne maree brown.
It’s almost as though the organizers plucked a handful of nice humans off the internet and closed tab on literally everything else, a welcome break. Gaylorism in general is Very Online—born on Tumblr, increasingly huge on TikTok. Along with Madyson, camp co-organizer Katie, 30, recently wrapped a popular Gaylor podcast called The Archers, the duo’s contribution to a booming cottage industry of queer-minded Swiftie content. (Madyson has already launched another pod.) Tess, 30, a London-based camp co-organizer, is a prolific Gaylor creator too. This camp is the group’s way of passing the mic to others to invite their perspectives, to “recognize the brilliance and beauty of our community,” as Tess puts it. There’s even been talk of starting a literary-style magazine that goes beyond Taylor and into the open waters of, well, gay lore. That’s why the camp name has an “e” at the end—an indicator of deeper possibilities.
Gaylor subculture has now gotten big enough to attract coverage from major media outlets, some of it less than favorable—a Salon article last fall compared Gaylors to QAnon. Many face harassment from a hostile cohort of Swifties known as Hetlors, notorious for a queerphobic insistence that Taylor is straight. Bullying from Hetlors has driven some Gaylors to go dark and wipe their social accounts, which explains why most here at Camp Gaylore have asked that Cosmo publish their first names only.
Taylor herself is outspoken in her LGBTQ+ advocacy—granted, as more of an ally. “I didn’t realize until recently that I could advocate for a community that I’m not a part of,” she told Vogue in 2019. But as many Gaylors like to point out, that’s not quite the same as Taylor declaring she’s 100 percent straight and cisgender either. For now, the details of her identity remain anyone’s guess.
“In a cisheteronormative world, we are more likely to assume people to be cis and straight until told otherwise than to assume they’re trans or queer,” says Melissa A. Fabello, PhD, a sex and relationships educator. Her group coaching session this weekend, titled “The Bisexuality Crisis,” will address this very subject.
Camp Gaylore’s idyllic seaside haven is blessedly Hetlor-free. Madyson, who sometimes struggles to socialize in groups, tells me they feel “soothed” mingling on our private stretch of beach. This weekend has always been more about reinforcing the Gaylorverse than dissecting Taylor’s suspected queerness. “It is very much for people to meet and see each other physically and be like, This community is just as real offline as it is online,” Madyson says. In the sand, they spell out GAYLORE in dozens of tiny seashells.
We head to dinner in the large dining hall for a taco buffet—a communal setup that amuses Nevada. “This is so sweet, like the positive parts of going inpatient at the psych ward,” they joke. Then an earnest elaboration: “It’s just nice that other people understand what I’m thinking. I don’t have to explain a million things. I don’t have to be like, Okay, I guess I’ll let you ignore my pronouns. It’s a very good space.”
Afterward, we gather around an outdoor firepit for s’mores and impromptu performances. One camper breaks out an acoustic guitar and shares songs she wrote during a period of homelessness. Her voice is husky and powerful—a howl of survival. A few campers pass around a bong. Inside jokes are hatched. “As cliché as it sounds, I do feel like I’ve known these people forever,” says Lee, 33, a camper from California who credits Gaylor theories with fueling her lesbian awakening seven years ago. For her, this night is “cathartic.”
In the 10 o’clock hour, everyone heads back inside to watch the livestream of the Eras Tour. This has been a ritual for many of us since Taylor hit the road in March. Lots of campers have been tracking the surprise acoustic songs she performs each night—one or two per show, with no repeats from the pre-Midnights archive unless she messes up.
Tonight, Taylor is in Pittsburgh. One member of the Gaylor community—not at camp with us but someone who’s friends with a few campers—has been publicly campaigning for Taylor to play “ME!” at this stop, a track many Gaylors love (see: the big gay energy of its music video). Taylor playing “ME!” would be everything, a definitive acknowledgement of us.
As the livestream plays, campers string together bead bracelets with Gaylor references—the letters “SITBTTEBM” (“She is the best thing that’s ever been mine”), the phrase “WIDE EYED GAYS” (an intentional misspelling of the “All Too Well” lyric). Then the first surprise song begins: It’s “Mr. Perfectly Fine,” off Fearless. Everyone groans. The second song is a miss too: “The Last Time,” from Red. So much for “ME!”
Everyone is super bummed. A few campers even cry a little bit. But there’s beauty in the heartbreak too—something profound and unifying in our shared disappointment. “Even if Taylor were to go away and never do another thing, I feel like we still have this,” Amanda tells me later. “And that’s really cool.”
The big social event of the weekend, on the second and final night, is prom. Given that it’s being held in the retreat’s tabernacle building, camp staffers have printed out a color picture of Jesus, along with big letters that spell out “LYRICS TOO?”—a cheeky nod to the fact that we’re in a house of worship but mostly a deep-cut Gaylor reference (to something once uttered by Taylor’s pal and collaborator Jack Antonoff). A tattooed camp staffer DJs from a heavily stickered laptop, next to a whirling party light that scatters rainbow beams throughout the space.
Many of our prom looks are encoded with Taylor allusions. One camper wears a tiered, ruffled frock in pastel hues, à la Taylor’s Lover era. Another, channeling the Reputation album art, dons a matching corset and skirt in newsprint-pattern fabric. Still another is turned out in the crochet crop tank Taylor wore while promoting Midnights, its colors a near-perfect match for the lesbian pride flag tacked to one wall.
“Cruel Summer”—a Gaylor fave, theoretically chronicling Taylor’s rumored relationship with supermodel Karlie Kloss—blasts from the speakers. The dance floor fills up. We scream-sing the lines about sneaking in through the garden gate, about the shape of a lover’s body being new. As the song reaches its bridge, our collective joy turns incandescent.
“It felt like 70,000 of us in the room,” Lee marvels the next day as campers pack up to leave. “This was the most magical weekend of my summer—and I’ve been to the Eras Tour twice.”
Frankie de la Cretaz is the co-author of Hail Mary: The Rise and Fall of The National Women's Football League. Their work has been featured in The New York Times, The Atlantic, Rolling Stone, and more.
#gaylorefest#gaylor swift x msm#Gaylor swift x mainstream media#Gaylor swift x cosmopolitan magazine#swiftgron#Swiftgron x msm#Swiftgron x mainstream media
17 notes
·
View notes
Text
As a football fan, it’s not uncommon to see big NFL stars date celebrities. When I was growing up in Pittsburgh, the Steelers’ quarterback Terry Bradshaw dated figure skater JoJo Starbuck. That was such a big deal at the time. For a brief period, they were the "it couple."
Now, that pairing seems so simple.
A few years ago quarterback Russell Wilson, when he was with the Seattle Seahawks, married global singing superstar Ciara. Before their nuptials, it was Tom Brady, who of course married supermodel Gisele Bündchen. Sadly, the two divorced last year. Then, Brady made big headlines in late summer with rumors he was dating another model, Irina Shayk.
That pairing seems so simple now.
This weekend, the Miami Dolphins scored 70 points in their win against the Denver Broncos, whose quarterback is Wilson. Presumably, Wilson was consoled by his famous wife after that embarrassing defeat. The Dolphins had a total offense of 726 yards, just nine yards short of the NFL's all-time record set by the Los Angeles Rams way back in 1951.
During any other weekend, the Dolphins's history-making win would dominate sports news, and spill into general news as well, because wins and yardage like that are unheard of, even in a league where high passing and high-scoring games are the norm.
Also on Sunday night, the plane carrying my beloved Steelers was forced to land in Kansas City, Mo., on their way back from Las Vegas after defeating the Raiders. That, too, would be huge sports news and general news, but alas, the emergency landing in Kansas City wasn't the biggest thing to even happen in that city on Sunday.
Earlier in the day, Taylor Swift appeared in a private box at Arrowhead Stadium in Kansas City, to watch the Chiefs manhandle the Chicago Bears 41-10. Presumably, Swift wasn’t there as a Chiefs fan or to watch the action. She was there to watch her new beau, the Chiefs's tight-end, Travis Kelce — who scored a touchdown probably just to show off. Images of Swift cheering and screaming for Kelce in that private box with his family almost crashed social media.
Is Swift dating Kelce? Well, who knows, and you might say, who cares? But, a lot of the world cares, to put it bluntly. Starbuck, Ciara, and Gisele pale in comparison to the enormity of Swift. If Swift decided to date a tree, that tree would become a top tourist destination.
It’s called the Swift effect; similar it seems to the Oprah effect. Everything Swift touches turns to gold. Swift walked hand-in-hand with Kelce out of Arrowhead Stadium Sunday after the game, and since then, sales of Kelce’s #87 Chiefs’ jersey have soared over 400 percent, according to TMZ.
This relationship between Swift and Kelce – whatever or however long it is – has also caused the interwebs to almost crash. Young women and young gay men around the world are Googling “Travis Kelce” to find out all they can about Swift’s new hunk of a football player boyfriend – or acquaintance?
Similarly, many of the gay “Swifties” I know were reaching out to me on Sunday about Kelce. They know I’m a football fan, so they had many questions for me; Is Kelce any good Where is he from? Who are the Chiefs? Is he a homophobe?
Kelce is good, in fact, he’s one of the best tight ends in the NFL. Kelce has an older brother, Jason who plays for the Philadelphia Eagles. Their mother Donna has become somewhat of a celebrity herself. During the Super Bowl last year, where Travis’s team the Chiefs beat Jason's team, the Eagles, Donna was all over the place. The ultimate football mother. Happy for one son. Sad for the other. And now? After her picture alongside Swift ran wild over social media and the news on Sunday, Mrs. Kelce is the third biggest and current global superstar, behind Taylor and Travis.
As a side note, and for those who are obsessed with garnering as much knowledge about Kelce as they can get, this year’s Super Bowl win was his second win; the first being in 2020 when Kelce and the Chiefs defeated the San Francisco 49ers.
The Kelce brothers are creating a cottage industry for themselves. They have their own podcast, New Heights with Jason and Travis Kelce, and they have a documentary, Kelce, on Prime Video that is more about Jason, with Travis making frequent appearances. It’s actually pretty good, even if you’re not a football fan. Not to be outdone by his brother, Travis had a reality show on E! called Catching Kelce, that featured 50 women from 50 states in a dating competition. I guess Taylor decided to wait until the dust cleared with that many women pining for Kelce?
There’s no doubt in the world that every Swifty is downloading all the episodes of that The Bachelor riff, so that they can find out how to catch Kelce too, or about how Swift caught Kelce.
Finally, Travis Kelce is anything but a homophobe. Kelce told Outsports at the 2017 Pro Bowl (this is the game that features the NFL’s best players) that he’d support a gay teammate. “Anybody in this world [can play]. I’m comfortable with who I am and I expect everyone to be comfortable with who they are. I respect people for their views and opinions.”
And here’s a story about why you can love Kelce even if you’re not a Swifty or even a Gaylor — which is a subgroup of Swift fans who believe Taylor Swift is actually queer. In July, Bud Light released a commercial starring Kelce. In any other year, that wouldn’t raise an eyebrow, but we all know what happened with Bud Light in April with the Dylan Mulvaney imbroglio, and Bud Light’s inexcusable reaction to the extreme right boycotting the beer.
In the face of that boycott, by angry cisgender straight white men who were shooting cans of Bud Light or pouring them down the drain, Kelce metaphorically flipped them the bird by swigging the beer. And for his bravery and f-you attitude towards the narrow-minded, they retaliated by calling for a boycott of Kelce and by calling him "woke." (How do you boycott a human being, let alone one that is 6’5” and weighs 250 pounds?) Kelce could have cared less about what they thought of him endorsing Bud Light. In fact, he was seen drinking the beer at a golf tournament soon after the ad was released.
This week, Kelce released a video announcing his partnership with Pfizer as part of an educational campaign to remind people to get their flu and COVID-19 vaccine shots, preferably at the same time. In his Instagram video, Kelce says, “With my schedule, saving time is key. The CDC says you can get this season’s updated COVID-19 shot when you get your flu shot if you’re due for both. That’s why I got two shots in one stop! Ask your doctor or pharmacist if it would be right for you. You can also visit CDC’s vaccines.gov to learn more and schedule an appointment.”
As you can imagine, the anti-vaxxers and the extreme right are horrified that Kelce is endorsing the same "phooey" and hawking the same “poisons” that their number one vaxxing nemesis Dr. Fauci championed. For his efforts, Kelce is a champion too.
Finally, Kelce hosted Saturday Night Live earlier this year after winning the Super Bowl, and appeared in a memorable sketch with Bowen Yang as his “Straight Male Friend,” as Yang's character seeks some balance after being the one gay guy in a group of straight women.
While the world tries to dissect Kelce in every imaginable way possible, as they scoop up his jersey in record numbers, we can take some solace in the fact that Kelce will have no problem with queer Swifties or even the Gaylors.
One of my gay Swifty friends asked me what the story is with Travis's hunky brother Jason. I was sorry to tell him that he is happily married to his wife Kylie, and that they have three young daughters who will be the envy of young girls worldwide some day soon, when they get a new Aunt Taylor.
#Gaylor swift x gay media#Gaylor swift x Travis kelce x the advocate#stunts and shows#promance#merkins and beards#gaylor swift x msm
8 notes
·
View notes
Text
7 notes
·
View notes
Text
💭💭💭
Why is The OG People’s Princess Diana next to Kaylor at the Knicks game in the New York Times?
👀
Paywalled
3 notes
·
View notes
Text
👀📝📝📝📝
6 notes
·
View notes
Note
Not Rolling Stone running a Gaylor theory headline
Rob Sheffield a Closet Gaylor? A Plausible Deniability Swiftgron?
There’s layers (and hyperlinks!) to this…
👀
#gaylor swift#Gaylor swift x msm#mainstream media x Gaylor swift#Gaylor swift x Rollingstone 2022#everyone knows#everybody knows#gaylor swift x midnights
12 notes
·
View notes
Text
Last week, the New York Times ran a nearly 5,000-word piece about Taylor Swift in its opinion section. The thoughtful essay, by editor Anna Marks, specifically considers the superstar’s creative output by asking the question: What if, as so many of the references in them suggest, some of Swift’s songs are about being in love with women?
Marks is only about the millionth person to suggest that Swift might be dropping clues that she is gay in her work, a theory known as “Gaylor”: Here’s a 2022 feature about the fan theory that ran in Jezebel; here’s an explainer from later that year in Vox that gets into it, which, oh, also references a Vox deep dive from the height of the COVID-19 pandemic on “the queering of Taylor Swift”; here’s a Rolling Stone piece pegged to the release of Midnights; here’s a piece that ran in Slate after the re-release of Red that explored similar theories. I could go on and on. You get it. The Times is not exactly breaking new ground here.
Marks’ piece does stand out in a few ways: It’s very long. It’s in the New York Times, the “paper of record,” and that apparently confers some vague special responsibility to every word it publishes. It does not report on what the fans are saying but instead identifies Marks herself as the fan with the corkboard and red string. If it’s even a conspiracy theory at all, the piece openly muses about its subject: “There are some queer people who would say that … she has already come out, at least to us.”
The opinion piece has “prompted a fair amount of outrage online,” writes Danielle Cohen in the Cut, “where even those of us who enjoy the occasional Gaylor theories found these assertions—and the fact that they were made in an esteemed national newspaper—a few steps too far.” Among the outraged are Swift’s “associates”: “Because of her massive success, in this moment there is a Taylor-shaped hole in people’s ethics,” a “person close to the situation” told a CNN reporter, noting that, were Swift a man, this article “wouldn’t have been allowed to be written.”
Leaving aside that this very same author wrote a piece about Harry Styles’ potential queerness, it’s true enough that Swift isn’t a man. But she’s a cultural phenomenon. Her songs were streamed over 26 billion times last year on Spotify alone. Her celebrity is everywhere you look right now. It has made her a billionaire, and boosted the economy to boot.
53 notes
·
View notes
Text
Before Taylor Swift was sparking headlines about "squad goals" or attracting throngs of Hollywood stars to The Eras Tour, she and Dianna Agron were nearly inseparable.
The "Style" singer and "Glee" star became close in 2012 and were quickly identified in the media as "blonde BFFs." However, the following year, Swift and Agron suddenly seemed to lose touch. They haven't been spotted together since 2014.
Keep scrolling to see everything we know about the once-close pair.
They became friends while Swift was working on 'Red'
It's unclear how and when Swift and Agron met. In 2010 and 2011, Swift became friendly with "Glee" stars like Cory Monteith and Chord Overstreet, so it's possible the women were introduced by Agron's castmates. They both attended the 2011 Vanity Fair Oscar Party, but there's no evidence they interacted.
Swift and Agron were spotted in public for the first time on September 4, 2011 at a flea market in Los Angeles. Swift was between shows on the Speak Now World Tour, while Agron had recently wrapped a series of Glee Live! concerts.
By this time, we know that Swift was in the process of creating her fourth album because she had already written "All Too Well."
According to her diary excerpts (released alongside "Lover" in 2019), the beloved song was conceived in February 2011. She decided to name the album "Red" in September 2011.
Dianna Agron and Taylor Swift in 2012.
January 7, 2012: Agron tweeted that Swift looked 'beautiful' on the cover of Vogue
Swift was photographed by Mario Testino for the February 2012 issue of Vogue, for which she was given retro-style bangs. According to a behind-the-scenes video, the photoshoot took place on the eve of her 22nd birthday.
"Taylor looks all kinds of 70's beautiful....and love a hat! Great job," Agron wrote on Twitter, tagging both Vogue and Swift.
March 25, 2012: Swift and Agron went to see 'The Hunger Games' together
A group of fans snapped a photo with Swift and Agron at the theater during the movie's opening weekend.
April 12, 2012: Agron shut down rumors that she was in a 'love triangle' with Swift and Tim Tebow
For some reason, in early 2012, tabloids ran wild with a theory that Agron was dating NFL quarterback Tim Tebow while Swift was harboring a "puppy dog" crush on him.
During an appearance on "Jimmy Kimmel Live," Agron quashed the rumors. She clarified that she had a "10-minute chat" with Tebow and hadn't seen him since.
Kimmel also asked her to address her relationship with Swift: "Are you dating her? That would be great."
"Wouldn't that be juicy?" Agron replied, blowing a kiss to the camera and adding, "Hi Taylor."
April 24, 2012: They wore vintage gowns and flower crowns to celebrate Shirley MacLaine's birthday
Swift, who costarred with MacLaine in the 2010 film "Valentine's Day," played dress-up with Agron and two more friends in honor of the actor's 78th birthday. The small group shared photos of the occasion on social media, though most have since been deleted.
"We dressed up full-time fancy and went out in celebration of Shirley MacLaine's birthday," Swift wrote on Twitter, per E! News.
"Had a long day & don't know what to celebrate later…? Because you need a moment to be young? Find your moments," Agron added in her own tweet.
April 28, 2012: Swift celebrated Agron's 26th birthday
Swift wore a tiger costume for Agron's circus-themed birthday party, which she called "the most magical night" on Twitter.
"The blonde BFFs have been spending a lot of time together as of late," E! News wrote.
May 15, 2012: They dined together in Los Angeles
Paparazzi caught Swift and Agron leaving Dominick's, an Italian restaurant in West Hollywood, after a Tuesday night dinner.
July 4, 2012: Swift and Agron spent the holiday in Hyannis Port, Massachusetts
Swift was spotted in the famous East Coast town during Fourth of July weekend, mostly hanging out at the Kennedy compound. She was accompanied by Agron and their friend Claire Kislinger (neé Winter), according to the Boston Herald and Us Weekly.
Kerry Townsend, the granddaughter of Ethel Kennedy, tweeted at the time: "Arrived at my Grandma's house to find her chilling with Taylor Swift and Dianna Agron. I hope I'm this cool when I'm 83!"
October 22, 2012: Swift released 'Red,' which includes a dedication to Agron
Swift is known for leaving coded messages for fans in the liner notes of her album. The secret message for "22" was four names: "Ashley Dianna Claire Selena."
In addition to Agron and Kislinger, these most likely refer to stylist Ashley Avignone and Selena Gomez. The song is about spending a carefree night with friends, though hints of ill-advised romance are sprinkled in: "You look like bad news / I gotta have you."
There could be another reference to Agron in the liner notes for "Everything Has Changed." The song's secret message is "Hyannis Port," where Swift spent some time with green-eyed Conor Kennedy that summer. ("All I've seen since 18 hours ago / Is green eyes and freckles and your smile," Swift sings.)
However, many fans have noticed that "Hyannis Port" is actually misspelled in the liner notes as "Hyiannis Port," which mirrors the spelling of Dianna (who also has green eyes).
The day that "Red" was released, Agron congratulated Swift on Twitter with a screenshot of her phone playing "Everything Has Changed."
December 3, 2012: Swift and Agron both attended the Ripple of Hope gala
Swift and Conor Kennedy reportedly split in October 2012 after a few months of dating. However, later that year, Swift was still honored with the Ripple of Hope Award from the Robert F. Kennedy Center for Justice & Human Rights.
The annual gala was held at the Mariott Marquis in New York City. According to E! News, Swift had Agron "by her side" throughout the event. She also performed "Starlight," a song from "Red" that was inspired by Ethel and Bobby Kennedy.
"Was a beautiful night last night. The RFK foundation provides help to so many truly deserving," Agron tweeted. "Plus @taylorswift13 was truly lovely."
April 2013: A fake artice, which claimed Swift and Agron were dating, went semi-viral
Shortly after Swift embarked on the Red Tour, a doctored screenshot from a fake tabloid began circulating on Twitter. The headline from Stars Daily, which does not exist, said "Taylor Swift is in a new relationship...but it's not what you expected."
"Country pop singer Taylor Swift has confirmed being in a relationship with Glee star Dianna Agron," the fake article continued. "Lesbi-honest! Right after the rumors were confirmed, the two were spotted out on a dinner date." (The attached photo was from Swift and Agron's dinner at Dominick's in 2012.)
On April 23, 2013, "Skins" actor Dakota Blue Richards tweeted about the rumor: "So apparently Taylor Swift and Dianna Agron are dating. Sorry Brangelina, you just got taken over as the worlds hottest couple."
Neither Swift nor Agron publicly responded to the rumor. But Richards' reaction seemed to increase its virality, and the following day, Agron deleted her Tumblr.
"Thank you friends for following the journey," she wrote in her final post. "But as an old chapter closes, a new chapter begins."
September 4, 2013: Swift, Agron, and other friends went to a Fun. concert
"Modern Family" star Sarah Hyland shared a video from backstage at the Fun. concert, which took place at the Greek in Los Angeles. Swift is featured in the short clip, while Agron is briefly shown standing off to the side.
"Watching @OurNameIsFun live tonight at the Greek was unforgettable," Swift wrote on Twitter, per Taste of Country. "Such incredible musicians and showmen. It was just SO good."
Two days later, Agron also tweeted an inside joke about the concert, tagging Swift.
This seemed to be the last time they intentionally hung out (at least in public).
October 27, 2014: Swift released the deluxe version of '1989,' which includes a breakup song called 'Wonderland'
The lyrics of "Wonderland" clearly reference "Alice's Adventures in Wonderland," the 1865 novel by Lewis Carroll. When Swift performed the "1989" deluxe track as a surprise song on The Eras Tour, she said it was a "twisted" take on the fairy tale.
In the song, Swift describes her muse as having green eyes and a "Cheshire Cat smile." She says they "fell down the rabbit hole" and got lost in Wonderland, all without considering the consequences.
"Haven't you heard what becomes of curious minds?" she sings in the pre-chorus, a reference to Alice's observation that "curiosity often leads to trouble."
Swift concludes in the bridge: "In the end, in Wonderland / We both went mad."
Some fans have drawn a connection between "Wonderland" and Agron, who has repeatedly tweeted about her love for Alice.
"I love 'Alice in Wonderland' and 'The Hobbit,'" Agron said in a 2011 interview with Elle. "Those books got me into reading and storytelling — I could escape to a different world."
Indeed, Agron reportedly had a Tumblr, deleted in 2013, that was called "felldowntherabbithole."
She also had a reference to "Alice's Adventures in Wonderland" tattooed on her ribcage: "We're all mad here," which is a quote from the Cheshire Cat. Fans noticed that Agron was in the process of removing her tattoo in 2017.
November 23, 2014: They had a brief interaction at the 2014 American Music Awards
Although she spent most of the evening with Karlie Kloss, photographers did catch Swift having a moment with Agron at the 2014 AMAs, where she also performed her single "Blank Space."
This was the last time Swift and Agron were seen together in public. Notably, Agron did not appear among Swift's many celebrity friends in the 2015 "Bad Blood" music video, which seemed to confirm they were no longer close.
October 5, 2019: Agron went to 'SNL' when Swift was the musical guest
Agron was photographed leaving 30 Rock after "Saturday Night Live" finished filming. Swift was that night's musical guest — she performed "False God" and the title track from "Lover" — but there's no evidence she interacted with Agron inside.
May 7, 2023: Agron was asked about rumors that she and Swift were 'in a relationship'
During an interview with Rolling Stone, Agron was asked about her influence on Swift's music, specifically "22."
"Me? Oh, if only! That's more because of a friendship than being the inspiration for the song," she replied. "But I would not be the person to ask about that. I cannot claim that!"
The reporter also asked how Agron felt about being "shipped" with Swift, which he explained as, "You two were made out by the media and some fans to be in a relationship."
In response, Agron described the speculation as "so interesting."
"I… I mean, there have been many stories about my dating life that are so wildly untrue. That's funny," she said.
#Swiftgron x msm mention#gaylor swift x dianna agron#mainstream media x Swiftgron#Swiftgron 2023#Swiftgron 2012#Swiftgron 2013#Swiftgron 2014
42 notes
·
View notes
Text
In 2006, the year Taylor Swift released her first single, a closeted country singer named Chely Wright, then 35, held a 9-millimeter pistol to her mouth. Queer identity was still taboo enough in mainstream America that speaking about her love for another woman would have spelled the end of a country music career. But in suppressing her identity, Ms. Wright had risked her life.
In 2010, she came out to the public, releasing a confessional memoir, “Like Me,” in which she wrote that country music was characterized by culturally enforced closeting, where queer stars would be seen as unworthy of investment unless they lied about their lives. “Country music,” she wrote, “is like the military — don’t ask, don’t tell.”
The culture in which Ms. Wright picked up that gun — the same one in which Ms. Swift first became a star — was stunningly different from today’s. It’s dizzying to think about the strides that have been made in Americans’ acceptance of the L.G.B.T.Q. community over the past decade: marriage equality, queer themes dominating teen entertainment, anti-discrimination laws in housing and, for now, in the workplace. But in recent years, a steady drip of now-out stars — Cara Delevingne, Colton Haynes, Elliot Page, Kristen Stewart, Raven-Symoné and Sam Smith among them — have disclosed that they had been encouraged to suppress their queerness in order to market projects or remain bankable.
The culture of country music hasn’t changed so much that homophobia is gone. Just this past summer, Adam Mac, an openly gay country artist, was shamed out of playing at a festival in his hometown because of his sexual orientation. In September, the singer Maren Morris stepped away from country music; she said she did so in part because of the industry’s lingering anti-queerness. If country music hasn’t changed enough, what’s to say that the larger entertainment industry — and, by extension, our broader culture — has?
Periodically, I return to a video, recorded by a shaky hand more than a decade ago, of Ms. Wright answering questions at a Borders bookstore about her coming out. She likens closeted stardom to a blender, an “insane” and “inhumane” heteronormative machine in which queer artists are chewed to bits.
“It’s going to keep going,” Ms. Wright says, “until someone who has something to lose stands up and just says ‘I’m gay.’ Somebody big.” She continues: “We need our heroes.”
What if someone had already tried, at least once, to change the culture by becoming such a hero? What if, because our culture had yet to come to terms with homophobia, it wasn’t ready for her?
What if that hero’s name was Taylor Alison Swift?
In the world of Taylor Swift, the start of a new “era” means the release of new art (an album and the paratexts — music videos, promotional ephemera, narratives — that supplement it) and a wholesale remaking of the aesthetics that will accompany its promotion, release and memorializing. In recent years, Ms. Swift has dominated pop culture to such a degree that these transformations often end up altering American culture in the process.
In 2019, she was set to release a new album, “Lover,” the first since she left Big Machine Records, her old Nashville-based label, which she has since said limited her creative freedom. The aesthetic of what would be known as the “Lover Era” emerged as rainbows, butterflies and pastel shades of blue, purple and pink, colors that subtly evoke the bisexual pride flag.
On April 26, Lesbian Visibility Day, Ms. Swift released the album’s lead single, “ME!,” in which she sings about self-love and self-acceptance. She co-directed a campy music video to accompany it, which she would later describe as depicting “everything that makes me, me.” It features Ms. Swift dancing at a pride parade, dripping in rainbow paint and turning down a man’s marriage proposal in exchange for a … pussy cat.
At the end of June, the L.G.B.T.Q. community would celebrate the 50th anniversary of the Stonewall Riots. On June 14, Ms. Swift released the video for her attempt at a pride anthem, “You Need to Calm Down,” in which she and an army of queer celebrities from across generations — the “Queer Eye” hosts, Ellen DeGeneres, Billy Porter, Hayley Kiyoko, to name a few — resist homophobia by living openly. Ms. Swift sings that outrage against queer visibility is a waste of time and energy: “Why are you mad, when you could be GLAAD?”
The video ends with a plea: “Let’s show our pride by demanding that, on a national level, our laws truly treat all of our citizens equally.” Many, in the press and otherwise, saw the video as, at best, a misguided attempt at allyship and, at worst, a straight woman co-opting queer aesthetics and narratives to promote a commercial product.
Then, Ms. Swift performed “Shake It Off” as a surprise for patrons at the Stonewall Inn. Rumors — that were, perhaps, little more than fantasies — swirled in the queerer corners of her fandom, stoked by a suggestive post by the fashion designer Christian Siriano. Would Ms. Swift attend New York City’s WorldPride march on June 30? Would she wear a dress spun from a rainbow? Would she give a speech? If she did, what would she declare about herself?
The Sunday of the march, those fantasies stopped. She announced that the music executive Scooter Braun, who she described as an “incessant, manipulative” bully, had purchased her masters, the lucrative original recordings of her work.
Ms. Swift’s “Lover” was the first record that she created with nearly unchecked creative freedom. Lacking her old label’s constraints, she specifically chose to feature activism for and the aesthetics of the L.G.B.T.Q. community in her confessional, self-expressive art. Even before the sale of her masters, she appeared to be stepping into a new identity — not just an aesthetic — that was distinct from that associated with her past six albums.
When looking back on the artifacts of the months before that album’s release, any close reader of Ms. Swift has a choice. We can consider the album’s aesthetics and activism as performative allyship, as they were largely considered to be at the time. Or we can ask a question, knowing full well that we may never learn the answer: What if the “Lover Era” was merely Ms. Swift’s attempt to douse her work — and herself — in rainbows, as so many baby queers feel compelled to do as they come out to the world?
There’s no way of knowing what could have happened if Ms. Swift’s masters hadn’t been sold. All we know is what happened next. In early August, Ms. Swift posted a rainbow-glazed photo of a series of friendship bracelets, one of which says “PROUD” with beads in the color of the bisexual pride flag. Queer people recognize that this word, deployed this way, typically means that someone is proud of their own identity. But the public did not widely view this as Ms. Swift’s coming out.
Then, Vogue released an interview with Ms. Swift that had been conducted in early June. When discussing her motivations for releasing “You Need to Calm Down,” Ms. Swift said, “Rights are being stripped from basically everyone who isn’t a straight white cisgender male.” She continued: “I didn’t realize until recently that I could advocate for a community that I’m not a part of.” That statement suggests that Ms. Swift did not, in early June, consider herself part of the L.G.B.T.Q. community; it does not illuminate whether that is because she was a straight, cis ally or because she was stuck in the shadowy, solitary recesses of the closet.
On Aug. 22, Ms. Swift publicly committed herself to the as-of-then-unproven project of rerecording and rereleasing her first six albums. The next day, she finally released “Lover,” which raises more questions than it answers. Why does she have to keep secrets just to keep her muse, as all her fans still sing-scream on “Cruel Summer”? About what are the “hundred thrown-out speeches I almost said to you,” in her chronicle of self-doubt, “The Archer,” if not her identity? And what could the album’s closing words, which come at the conclusion of “Daylight,” a song about stepping out of a 20-year darkness and choosing to “let it go,” possibly signal?
I want to be defined by the things that I love,
Not the things I hate,
Not the things that I’m afraid of, I’m afraid of,
Not the things that haunt me in the middle of the night,
I just think that,
You are what you love.
The first time I viewed “Lover” through the prism of queerness, I felt delirious, almost insane. I kept wondering whether what I was perceiving in her work was truly there or if it was merely a mirage, born of earnest projection.
My longtime reading of Ms. Swift’s celebrity — like that of a majority of her fan base — had been stuck in the lingering assumptions left by a period that began more than a decade and a half ago, when a girl with an overexaggerated twang, Shirley Temple curls and Georgia stars in her eyes became famous. Then, she presented as all that was to be expected of a young starlet: attractive yet virginal, knowing yet naïve, not talented enough to be formidable, not commanding enough to be threatening, confessional, eager to please. Her songs earnestly depicted the fantasies of a girl raised in a traditional culture: high school crushes and backwoods drives, princelings and wedding rings, declarations of love that climax only in a kiss — ideally in the pouring rain.
When Ms. Swift was trying to sell albums in that late-2000s media environment, her songwriting didn’t match the image of a sex object, the usual role reserved for female celebrities in our culture. Instead, the story the public told about her was that she laundered her affection to a litter of promising grown men, in exchange for songwriting inspiration. A young Ms. Swift contributed to this narrative by hiding easy-to-decode clues in liner notes that suggested a certain someone was her songs’ inspiration (“SAM SAM SAM SAM SAM SAM,” “ADAM,” “TAY”) or calling out an ex-boyfriend on the “Ellen” show and “Saturday Night Live.” Despite the expansive storytelling in Ms. Swift’s early records, her public image often cast a man’s interest as her greatest ambition.
As Ms. Swift’s career progressed, she began to remake that image: changing her style and presentation, leaving country music for pop and moving from Nashville to New York. By 2019, her celebrity no longer reflected traditional culture; it had instead become a girlboss-y mirror for another dominant culture — that of white, cosmopolitan, neoliberal America.
But in every incarnation, the public has largely seen those songs — especially those for which she doesn’t directly state her inspiration — as cantos about her most recent heterosexual love, whether that idea is substantiated by evidence or not. A large portion of her base still relishes debating what might have happened with the gentleman caller who supposedly inspired her latest album. Feverish discussions of her escapades with the latest yassified London Boy or mustachioed Mr. Americana fuel the tabloid press — and, embarrassingly, much of traditional media — that courts fan engagement by relentlessly, unquestioningly chronicling Ms. Swift’s love life.
Even in 2023, public discussion about the romantic entanglements of Ms. Swift, 34, presumes that the right man will “finally” mean the end of her persistent husbandlessness and childlessness. Whatever you make of Ms. Swift’s extracurricular activities involving a certain football star (romance for the ages? strategic brand partnership? performance art for entertainment’s sake?), the public’s obsession with the relationship has been attention-grabbing, if not lucrative, for all parties, while reinforcing a story that America has long loved to tell about Ms. Swift, and by extension, itself.
Because Ms. Swift hasn’t undeniably subverted our culture’s traditional expectations, she has managed, in an increasingly fractured cultural environment, to simultaneously capture two dominant cultures — traditional and cosmopolitan. To maintain the stranglehold she has on pop culture, Ms. Swift must continue to tell a story that those audiences expect to consume; she falls in love with a man or she gets revenge. As a result, her confessional songs languish in a place of presumed stasis; even as their meaning has grown deeper and their craft more intricate, a substantial portion of her audience’s understanding of them remains wedded to the same old narratives.
But if interpretations of Ms. Swift’s art often languish in stasis, so do the millions upon millions of people who love to play with the dollhouse she has constructed for them. Her dominance in pop culture and the success of her business have given her the rare ability to influence not only her industry but also the worldview of a substantial portion of America. How might her industry, our culture and we, ourselves, change if we made space for Ms. Swift to burn that dollhouse to the ground?
Anyone considering the whole of Ms. Swift’s artistry — the way that her brilliantly calculated celebrity mixes with her soul-baring art — can find discrepancies between the story that underpins her celebrity and the one captured by her songs. One such gap can be found in her “Lover” era. Others appear alongside “dropped hairpins,” or the covert ways someone can signal queer identity to those in the know while leaving others comfortable in their ignorance. Ms. Swift dropped hairpins before “Lover” and has continued to do so since.
Sometimes, Ms. Swift communicates through explicit sartorial choices — hair the colors of the bisexual pride flag or a recurring motif of rainbow dresses. She frequently depicts herself as trapped in glass closets or, well, in regular closets. She drops hairpins on tour as well, paying tribute to the Serpentine Dance of the lesbian artist Loie Fuller during the Reputation Tour or referencing “The Ladder,” one of the earliest lesbian publications in the United States, in her Eras Tour visuals.
Dropped hairpins also appear in Ms. Swift’s songwriting. Sometimes, the description of a muse — the subject of her song, or to whom she sings — seems to fit only a woman, as it does in “It’s Nice to Have a Friend,” “Maroon” or “Hits Different.” Sometimes she suggests a female muse through unfulfilled rhyme schemes, as she does in “The Very First Night,” when she sings “didn’t read the note on the Polaroid picture / they don’t know how much I miss you” (“her,” instead of that pesky little “you,” would rhyme). Her songwriting also noticeably alludes to poets whose muses the historical record incorrectly cast as men — Emily Dickinson chief among them — as if to suggest the same fate awaits her art. Stunningly, she even explicitly refers to dropping hairpins, not once, but twice, on two separate albums.
In isolation, a single dropped hairpin is perhaps meaningless or accidental, but considered together, they’re the unfurling of a ballerina bun after a long performance. Those dropped hairpins began to appear in Ms. Swift’s artistry long before queer identity was undeniably marketable to mainstream America. They suggest to queer people that she is one of us. They also suggest that her art may be far more complex than the eclipsing nature of her celebrity may allow, even now.
Since at least her “Lover” era, Ms. Swift has explicitly encouraged her fans to read into the coded messages (which she calls “Easter eggs”) she leaves in music videos, social media posts and interviews with traditional media outlets, but a majority of those fans largely ignore or discount the dropped hairpins that might hint at queer identity. For them, acknowledging even the possibility that Ms. Swift could be queer would irrevocably alter the way they connect with her celebrity, the true product they’re consuming.
There is such public devotion to the traditional narrative Ms. Swift embodies because American culture enshrines male power. In her sweeping essay, “Compulsory Heterosexuality and Lesbian Existence,” the lesbian feminist poet Adrienne Rich identified the way that male power cramps, hinders or devalues women’s creativity. All of the sexist undertones with which Ms. Swift’s work can be discussed (often, even, by fans) flow from compulsory heterosexuality, or the way patriarchy draws power from the presumption that women naturally desire men. She must write about men she surely loves or be unbankable; she must marry and bear children or remain a child herself; she must look like, in her words, a “sexy baby” or be undesirable, “a monster on the hill.”
A woman who loves women is most certainly a monster to a society that prizes male power. She can fulfill none of the functions that a traditional culture imagines — wife, mother, maid, mistress, whore — so she has few places in the historical record. The Sapphic possibility of her work is ignored, censored or lost to time. If there is queerness earnestly implied in Ms. Swift’s work, then it’s no wonder that it, like that of so many other artists before her, is so often rendered invisible in the public imagination.
While Ms. Swift’s songs, largely written from her own perspective, cannot always conform to the idea of a woman our culture expects, her celebrity can. That separation, between Swift the songwriter and Swift the star, allows Ms. Swift to press against the golden birdcage in which she has found herself. She can write about women’s complexity in her confessional songs, but if ever she chooses not to publicly comply with the dominant culture’s fantasy, she will remain uncategorizable, and therefore, unsellable.
Her star — as bright as it is now — would surely dim.
Whether she is conscious of it or not, Ms. Swift signals to queer people — in the language we use to communicate with one another — that she has some affinity for queer identity. There are some queer people who would say that through this sort of signaling, she has already come out, at least to us. But what about coming out in a language the rest of the public will understand?
The difference between any person coming out and a celebrity doing so is the difference between a toy mallet and a sledgehammer. It’s reasonable for celebrities to be reticent; by coming out, they potentially invite death threats, a dogged tabloid press that will track their lovers instead of their beards, the excavation of their past lives, a torrent of public criticism and the implosion of their careers. In a culture of compulsory heterosexuality, to stop lying — by omission or otherwise — is to risk everything.
American culture still expects that stars are cis and straight until they confess themselves guilty. So, when our culture imagines a celebrity’s coming out, it expects an Ellen-style announcement that will submerge the past life in phoenix fire and rebirth the celebrity in a new image. In an ideal culture, wearing a bracelet that says “PROUD,” waving a pride flag onstage, placing a rainbow in album artwork or suggestively answering fan questions on Instagram would be enough. But our current reality expects a supernova.
Because of that expectation, stars end up trapped behind glass, which is reinforced by the tabloid press’s subtle social control. That press shapes the public’s expectations of others’ identities, even when those identities are chasms away from reality. Celebrities who master this press environment — Ms. Swift included — can bolster their business, but in doing so, they reinforce a heteronormative culture that obsesses over pregnancy, women’s bodies and their relationships with men.
That environment is at odds with the American movement for L.G.B.T.Q. equality, which still has fights to win — most pressingly, enshrining trans rights and squashing nonsensical culture wars. But lately I’ve heard many of my young queer contemporaries — and the occasional star — wonder whether the movement has come far enough to dispense with the often messy, often uncomfortable process of coming out, over and over again.
That questioning speaks to an earnest conundrum that queer people confront regularly: Do we live in this world, or the world to which we ought to aspire?
Living in aspiration means ignoring the convention of coming out in favor of just … existing. This is easier for those who can pass as cis and straight if need be, those who are so wealthy or white that the burden of hiding falls to others and those who live in accepting urban enclaves. This is a queer life without friction; coming out in a way straight people can see is no longer a prerequisite for acceptance, fulfillment and equality.
This aspiration is tremendous, but in our current culture, it is available only to a privileged few. Should such an inequality of access to aspiration become the accepted state of affairs, it would leave those who can’t hide to face society’s cruelest actors without the backing of a vocal, activated community. So every queer person who takes issue with the idea that we must come out ought to ask a simple question — what do we owe one another?
If coming out is primarily supposed to be an act of self-actualization, to form our own identities, then we owe one another nothing. This posture recognizes that the act of coming out implicitly reinforces straight and cis identities as default, which is not worth the rewards of outness.
But if coming out is supposed to be a radical act of resistance that seeks to change the way our society imagines people to be, then undeniable visibility is essential to make space for those without power. In this posture, queer people who can live in aspiration owe those who cannot a real world in which our expansive views of love and gender aren’t merely tolerated but celebrated. We have no choice but to actively, vocally press against the world we’re in, until no one is stuck in it.
And so just for a little while longer, we need our heroes.
But if queer people spend all of our time holding out for a guiding light, we might forgo a more pressing question that if answered, just might inch all of us a bit closer to aspiration. The next time heroes appear, are we ready to receive them?
It takes neither a genius nor a radical to see queerness implied by Ms. Swift’s work. But figuring out how to talk about it before the star labels herself is another matter. Right now, those who do so must inject our perceptions with caveats and doubt or pretend we cannot see it (a lie!) — implicitly acquiescing to convention’s constraints in the name of solidarity.
Lying is familiar to queer people; we teach ourselves to do it from an early age, shrouding our identities from others, and ourselves. It’s not without good reason. To maintain the safety (and sometimes the comfort) of the closet, we lie to others, and, most crucially, we allow others to believe lies about us, seeing us as something other than ourselves. Lying is doubly familiar to those of us who are women. To reduce friction, so many of us still shrink life to its barest version in the name of honor or safety, rendering our lives incomplete, our minds lobotomized and our identities unexplored.
By maintaining a culture of lying about what we, uniquely, have the knowledge and experience to see, we commit ourselves to a vow of silence. That vow may protect someone’s safety, but when it is applied to works of culture, it stymies our ability to receive art that has the potential to change or disrupt us. As those with queer identity amass the power of commonplaceness, it’s worth questioning whether the purpose of one of the last great taboos that constrains us befits its cost.
In every case, is the best form of solidarity still silence?
I know that discussing the potential of a star’s queerness before a formal declaration of identity feels, to some, too salacious and gossip-fueled to be worthy of discussion. They might point to the viciousness of the discourse around “queerbaiting” (in which I have participated); to the harm caused by the tabloid press’s dalliances with outing; and, most crucially, to the real material sacrifices that queer stars make to come out, again and again, as reasons to stay silent.
I share many of these reservations. But the stories that dominate our collective imagination shape what our culture permits artists and their audiences to say and be. Every time an artist signals queerness and that transmission falls on deaf ears, that signal dies. Recognizing the possibility of queerness — while being conscious of the difference between possibility and certainty — keeps that signal alive.
So, whatever you make of Ms. Swift’s sexual orientation or gender identity (something that is knowable, perhaps, only to her) or the exact identity of her muses (something better left a mystery), choosing to acknowledge the Sapphic possibility of her work has the potential to cut an audience that is too often constrained by history, expectation and capital loose from the burdens of our culture.
To start, consider what Ms. Swift wrote in the liner notes of her 2017 album, “reputation”: “When this album comes out, gossip blogs will scour the lyrics for the men they can attribute to each song, as if the inspiration for music is as simple and basic as a paternity test.”
Listen to her. At the very least, resist the urge to assume that when Ms. Swift calls the object of her affection “you” in a song, she’s talking about a man with whom she’s been photographed. Just that simple choice opens up a world of Swiftian wordplay. She often plays with pronouns, trading “you” and “him” so that only someone looking for a distinction between two characters might find one. Turns of phrase often contain double or even triple meanings. Her work is a feast laid specifically for the close listener.
Choosing to read closely can also train the mind to resist the image of an unmarried woman that compulsory heterosexuality expects. And even if it is only her audience who points at rainbows, reading Ms. Swift’s work as queer is still worthwhile, for it undermines the assumption that queer identity impedes pop superstardom, paving the way for an out artist to have the success Ms. Swift has.
After all, would it truly be better to wait to talk about any of this for 50, 60, 70 years, until Ms. Swift whispers her life story to a biographer? Or for a century or more, when Ms. Swift’s grandniece donates her diaries to some academic library, for scholars to pore over? To ensure that mea culpas come only when Ms. Swift’s bones have turned to dust and fragments of her songs float away on memory’s summer breeze?
I think not. And so, I must say, as loudly as I can, “I can see you,” even if I risk foolishness for doing so.
I remember the first time I knew I had seen Taylor Alison Swift break free from the trap of stardom. I wasn’t sitting in a crowded stadium in the pouring rain or cuddled up in a movie theater with a bag of popcorn. I was watching a grainy, crackling livestream of the Eras Tour, captured on a fan’s phone.
It’s late at night, the beginning of her acoustic set of surprise songs, this time performed in a yellow dress. She begins playing “Hits Different.” It’s a new song, full of puns, double entendres and wordplay, that toys with the glittering identities in which Ms. Swift indulges.
She’s rushing, as if stopping, even for a second, will cause her to lose her nerve. She stumbles at the bridge, pauses and starts again; the queen of bridges will not mess this up, not tonight.
There it is, at the bridge’s end: “Bet I could still melt your world; argumentative, antithetical dream girl.” An undeniable declaration of love to a woman. As soon as those words leave her lips, she lets out a whoop, pacing around the stage with a grin that cannot be contained.
For a moment, Ms. Swift was out of the woods she had created for herself as a teenager, floating above the trees. The future was within reach; she would, and will, soon take back the rest of her words, her reputation, her name. Maybe the world would see her, maybe it wouldn’t.
But on that stage, she found herself. I was there. Through a fuzzy fancam, I saw it.
And somehow, that was everything.
#nyt x Gaylor swift#Gaylor swift x the msm#mainstream media x gaylor swift#gaylor fandom#Swiftgron#Taymily#tily#the New York Times article
28 notes
·
View notes
Text
And you replied: "Of course it is." You knew this was a a lie and it landed you in therapy but you want to believe.
This is the fakest moment in American history. Not since the moon landing has anything been so fake.
But you know what?
It's OK. This moment is actually interesting and fun. A certain sort of goofy obsession has seeped in. No, it's not real, but who cares? We all love this phony love affair. We will continue to love it. We will keep loving it until this spectacularly fake relationship dies and Kelce becomes a cautionary lyric on one of Swift's future albums.
For now, however, despite knowing this relationship isn't real, and likely some type of marketing ploy, we're all going to treat this like it's a true love story. The question is why do we like something that we know isn't real? The reasons, I believe, go beyond some of the obvious and superficial ones. It's not just our societal obsession with stars. It goes deeper than that.
Kelce and Swift represent a fleeting moment where we can all be a little nerdy and little obsessed and maybe even laugh at ourselves a little bit. I'm not talking about Swifties or Kansas City fans. Both of those groups are already hardcore and infatuated. This is about the rest of us. The people who don't have time to get obsessed about anything. The people who normally don't care about football, or how many stadiums Swift has sold out, can feel like they're part of something everyone else gets.
There's a more cynical view that says we're infatuated because our own lives are so boring. It's less that and more that our lives are so full. We don't just have our jobs and loved ones but the world seems chaotic and dangerous. There are threats to democracy, financial stress, a rise in white nationalism and extremism, and a general sense that things could go awry at any moment.
It's not simply that Swift and Kelce are a distraction. It's that sometimes we desperately need one.
This story is also about something else. The ability for all of us to laugh at ourselves. It's likely Swift and Kelce are laughing about this, too. So is Kelce's mom, Donna Kelce. Remember that scene in Kansas City when Travis scored a touchdown and Swift wildly celebrated but Donna, well, was just chill? That wasn't because she's seen her son score dozens of touchdowns. It was because she just didn't want to play along. Donna Kelce doesn't play that.
Yes, this is a conspiracy theory, but it's one of the few accurate ones.
I also believe we like the idea of Kelce and Swift as a couple because, at least as far as we know, they both seem like good human beings. We never truly know the people we follow as celebrities and while I don't know much about the singer, I do know the football player. He's known on the team as a diligent and decent person. He's been described to me by a former coach of his as "laid back" away from football.
Swift herself continues to do things away from her day job that have a considerable and positive societal impact. In a recent Instagram post, Swift pushed her 272 million followers to register to vote. The group Vote.org says it recorded more than 35,000 registrations.
"I've been so lucky to see so many of you guys at my U.S. shows recently. I've heard you raise your voices, and I know how powerful they are," she wrote on Instagram. "Make sure you're ready to use them in our elections this year!"
This, along with other things related to Swift and Kelce, caused the heads of right-wingers to explode. One wrote on X, formerly known as Twitter: "Taylor Swift hates America. Taylor Swift hates President Trump. Taylor Swift loves communism. Maybe Travis Kelce and Taylor Swift would be good together.”
Their anger was another reason to love this relationship.
The last time the public had such an infatuation with a couple was Michael Jackson and Lisa Marie Presley. There was a belief that relationship, like this one, wasn't real either. That one felt weird to watch.
This one feels great to watch.
For the people who hate this story, don't worry, you're not alone. "I'm already over it," Chargers running back Austin Ekeler told the Dan Le Batard Show with Stugotz. "I'm over the Taylor Swift stuff. Can we move on please?"
No, we cannot. We will not. How dare you even ask?
And for those of you who say you don't care about any of this, well, you've read this far. You obviously do. Just like the rest of us.
Even if it is totally, without question, completely fake.
#gaylor swift x promances#everyone knows she stunts but they can’t say why she does it#gaylor swift#stunts and shows#Gaylor swift x the msm#USA Today x Gaylor swift
38 notes
·
View notes
Text
💭💭💭
👀
#Swiftgron x msm#Swiftgron x mainstream media#dianna agron x gaylor swift#swiftgron 2023#Swiftgron x just Jared article
25 notes
·
View notes
Text
Article
12 notes
·
View notes
Text
The rumors are just that, and they are completely unverified and just a fan theory.
However, fans are still convinced that something happened between Taylor and Dianna.
During her performance, Taylor explained to the crowd that while writing "Wonderland", she "based it off of a twisted Alice in Wonderland".
Swifties made the connection and instantly thought of Dianna, who, actually had a tattoo of a quote from the Lewis Carroll tale on the side of her torso.
After "Wonderland" first debuted, Dianna had it removed.
Fans also have theories about this other song of Taylor's possibly referencing her relationship with Dianna.
You can watch a video of Taylor performing "Wonderland" on Twitter.
Earlier this month, the official set list for Taylor's Eras Tour was revealed.
#gaylor swift x dianna agron#Swiftgron songs#everyone knows#everybody knows#Swiftgronaissance#late stage Swiftgron#Swiftgron 2023#Swiftgron x msm#just Jared
17 notes
·
View notes
Text
[Bold Text = Jennyboom21’s emphasis because the wording is interesting]
“Before reading any further, please make sure you have a roll of tin foil and a monocle close at hand—you’ll need them. Supplies secured? Great.”
“Former Taylor Swift Squad member (remember those days?) Dianna Agron recently chatted with Rolling Stone and acknowledged those rumors of a past romance between herself and the illustrious Swift, whose dating life remains an evergreen source of speculation. Is Taylor dating Matty Healy? Maybe yes, maybe no. Did Taylor and Dianna date back in the day? Agron isn’t really saying.”
“When asked about being thanked in the liner notes for Swift’s “22,” one of the singer’s “wait, have you heard of New York? Isn’t it great?”-era songs, Agron shrugged off credit for being an inspiration, saying, “Me? Oh, if only! That’s more because of a friendship than being the inspiration for the song. But I would not be the person to ask about that. I cannot claim that!”
Then this exchange, which closes RS’s Q&A, follows:
How do you feel about the way that friendship was covered in the media? You two were shipped.
Shipped?
You two were made out by the media and some fans to be in a relationship.
That is so interesting. I… I mean, there have been many stories about my dating life that are so wildly untrue. That’s funny.
Elsewhere in the chat, she sidesteps commenting on Glee-related drama and says that maybe someday she’ll tell her own side of things.
“At the end of the day, you can’t control what other people do,” she said. “I’ll leave it for when I write my book at the age of 89. I picture this in Italy. Lunchtime consists of really delicious pastas, dinner consists of really delicious pastas, and I’ll sleep in a little. From 10:45 a.m. to 2:45 p.m. I write. Then I lunch. Then I take a sea dip. Then, from the hours of 5:30 p.m. to 6:30 p.m., I edit what I wrote. And then I do it again.”
We can only hope that somewhere in that pasta haze we get more details about Taylor.
Vanity Fair reached out to representatives for Swift and Agron for comment.
#swiftgronaissance#Swiftgron 2023#gaylor swift x dianna agron#swiftgron x mainstream media#Swiftgron x msm#Swiftgron x vanity fair
15 notes
·
View notes
Text
Taylor Swift is the kind of lyricist that can crack your heart open like a geode, to reveal the sparkling crystals of emotion you never knew were inside of you. There’s a scene in her Netflix documentary Miss Americana, released way back in January 2020, where she’s in the studio with Jack Antonoff and writing “Getaway Car” for Reputation. The words “put the money in the bag and I stole the key, that was the last time you ever saw me” tumble out of Swift’s mouth so fast, I’m not convinced they were not divinely delivered into her brain. What I’m saying is: This is a person who knows how to write a song, who is intentional in her word choice; a person who Jake Gyllenhaal kept like a secret, while Swift kept him like an oath. “You can’t spell ‘awesome’ without ‘me’” is a line we probably all could have done without ever hearing, but even in the candy-coated schlock of a song that is Lover lead single “ME!,” Swift understood the assignment. She is a songwriter that knows exactly what she is doing when she puts pen to paper.
To doubt that, at this point, is simply to hold onto an era from years past where hating Taylor Swift was a personality trait. Say what you will about her—though not to me, I don’t want to hear it—but the woman knows how to write exactly what she means in her songs. Which is why I can’t stop thinking about several lines from her new album, a re-recording of 2012’s Red. One of the songs”from the vault”—new tracks, for those who don’t speak Swift—on Red (Taylor’s Version) is a catchy number called “The Very First Night.” It’s about a secret love from the past and longing to go back in time, and at first listen, it’s a song that’s very fun to dance around to in your living room while jumping up and down as quietly as you can, because it’s 12:45 a.m. and you have neighbors.
The pre-chorus goes like this: “They don’t know about the night in the hotel/ They weren’t ridin’ in the car when we both fell/ Didn’t read the note on the Polaroid picture/ They don’t know how much I miss you.” The way the lyrics scan, my brain immediately wanted them to be a simple AABB rhyme scheme. Even without knowing the words to the song, I wanted that final word to rhyme with “picture.” What pronoun rhymes with “picture” you might ask? “Her.”
Didn’t read the note on the Polaroid pictures. They don’t know how much I miss her. Listening to it with that in mind feels like a fakeout, our ears led right up to an expected convection, only to have it ripped away at the last second. Swift does it a second time later in the song, rhyming “whispered” with “you.”
If you know anything about Swiftdom, it may not surprise you that there are two camps that are having it out over this particular song currently. These are the Hetlors (“het” as in heterosexual), who are fans that affirm Taylor Swift’s straightness and frown upon queer interpretations of her lyrics, and the Gaylors, who are, well, the opposite. (That’s “gay” as in … duh.) The first group is insistent in its belief that these lyrics don’t rhyme because that’s exactly how Taylor wanted them to be; some even think the song might specifically be about Harry Styles. The second group also agrees that the words don’t rhyme, but it’s because Taylor is hiding the song’s true message. (Swift self-identifies as straight, but for years rumors, fueled by clues seemingly left by Swift herself, have swirled about her sexuality.) On TikTok, queer fans have already edited the track to have what they deem the correct word in the lyrics, while questioning its current state.
What Swift is doing is employing a classic songwriting trope, sometimes called a teasing rhyme, which is a name that feels apt for what’s happening here. In Frozen, for example—another work that’s constantly pored over for its queer undertones—there’s a song sung by a talking snowman obsessed with summer and who has no idea he’ll melt in above freezing temperatures. “Winter’s a good time to stay in and cuddle,” he sings. “But put me in summer and I’ll be a … happy snowman.” “Mr. Brightside” by The Killers, as pointed out on TikTok, offers a less G-rated version of a tease: “Now they’re going to bed and my stomach is sick/ And it’s all in my head, but she’s touching his … chest.” It’s a neat little trick to mess with a listener’s head to make us pay attention. We all know these words were supposed to be “puddle” and “dick;” doing it this way creates a little inside joke between artist and fan.
Swift knows the words“picture” and “you” don’t rhyme. She knows that you could fudge it and make them “pict-cha” and “ya,” to scan a little more cleanly. But she chose not to do that—which is, in itself, saying something. Parts of the fandom think it’s unfair to Swift to speculate about her sexuality, but Swift is an artist known for baking in codes and Easter eggs into her word and her brand. She’s known for everything from capitalizing certain letters in her liner notes spelling out secret messages, to wearing particular outfits to send signals about album releases. (A purple velvet suit worn at the premiere of her short film for “All Too Well [Taylor’s Version] [10 Minute Version]” has certain Swifties thinking the next album she’ll re-release will be Speak Now, because the original album art for that one was purple, while the 1989 model car used in the film itself has other fans thinking 1989 will be next up.)
During the Lover era, Swift debuted her single “ME!” on Good Morning America, following an interview with the one and only gay icon Robin Roberts. In the video for “You Need to Calm Down,” the album’s next single, Swift’s hair is dyed the colors of the bisexual flag, and the cast is chockfull of various queer celebs. (These were also the same colors of her short manicured fingernails, seen in a teaser for Lover she posted to Instagram.) As an artist who does, by her own admission, nothing unintentionally, it’s hard not to, as a queer fan, want to read those things as clues, too.
Maybe they are. In the deepest, gayest chamber of my heart … I want those clues to be real. But we just don’t know who or what Taylor truly is deep down, no matter the signs we think we see. But what we do know is that Taylor Swift wrote the lyrics to “The Very First Night” with lyrics that could be easily interpreted as teasing. I get a kick thinking about her sitting down and writing a verse she knew would drive a not-insignificant portion of her fanbase absolutely mad over its implications. (Yes, I know these “From the Vault” songs were ostensibly written pre-2012, but I am willing to believe they got a little zhuzh in 2021.) How nice to have a little joke just between me, Taylor, and a million of her other biggest fans. Even if the lyrics to this song left queer fans in dismay, one can’t deny Taylor Swift is … talented.
35 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
paakojsimpson
Simpsons Already Did It
n2y88
Neir2you
wormkllerceo
julies magic shop
have--faith--in--me--forever
Have Faith In Me Forever
roidespd-blog
The Queer King