Taylor Swift renews her subscription to patriarchy
Taylor Swift has released at least one album every year since 2019, including re-recordings of her first six albums leading to the eventual acquisition of her masters—a major commercial precedent that has paved the way for artists demanding more ownership of their work.
On top of breaking global streaming records and attaining billionaire status in 2023, Swift also embarked on The Eras Tour—the highest-grossing tour of all time, spanning 149 shows and 51 cities across five continents. Within that same period, Swift seemingly dated and dumped “The 1975” frontman Matty Healy and met the man who would later become her husband, Kansas City Chiefs tight end Travis Kelce.
Needless to say, Swift’s personal and professional life has been stacked with one milestone after another—all of which, of course, corresponds to Swift’s overarching brand.
Unfortunately, the guarantee of commercial success comes at a steep price.
Swift’s sly lyricism, her most prized possession, has seemingly taken a hit. Her 12th studio album, aptly titled “The Life of a Showgirl,” was released in 2025 to mixed reviews. And the deluxe version, “The Life of a Showgirl: The Encore,” was released this September to major critical disdain.
False promises
For an album titled “The Life of a Showgirl,” her choices both lyrically and sonically convey a tired complacency. The album’s titular nod to her career leads listeners to believe that she reflects on her personal life and confronts the consequences of fame.
Unfortunately, she does neither.
It’s not the first time Swift’s album concept has gone meta. In fact, her most recent rendition of self-referentiality came in the form of “Reputation,” an album that—similar to “The Life of a Showgirl”—was part love story, part reckoning.
But unlike “The Life of a Showgirl,” “Reputation” came after a years-long withdrawal from the public. And while it was a dark period in her life, it gave her the opportunity to reevaluate who she was as an artist. She challenged herself to attempt a new musical style and persona while also exploring the intimate expanse of a private relationship.
Signs of regression
A product of the “Reputation” era was her decision to delve into politics in the early years of Donald Trump’s first term as president. It was one of the most tense and charged moments of American political history, and Swift—notoriously neutral—decided it was time to speak up.
But despite how the issues of today are more urgent than they have ever been, Swift has remained notably mum. She has stubbornly refused to join her pop peers—Billie Eilish, Olivia Rodrigo, and even Sabrina Carpenter—in condemning her country’s inhumane immigration policies or its role in funding the genocide of Palestinians.
So while “Reputation” exhibited an expansion of her creative and social imagination, “The Life of a Showgirl” illustrates a contraction. Its attempts at self-awareness are limp and myopic, and its sonic quality is catchy but parched. “It’s actually making me wet,” she sings airily at the climax of her song “Actually Romantic,” referring to insults directed at her from a particular acquaintance (rumored to be Charli XCX).
Swift’s concerning self-obsession
It’s getting to a point where one begins to wonder if Swift is okay. Her inability to demonstrate a nuanced understanding of her social and personal experiences is becoming rather alarming.
“Good thing I like my friends cancelled / I like ‘em cloaked in Gucci and in scandal,” she sings in her attempt to give her two cents on cancel culture, a phenomenon that only affects people of considerable wealth and power.
Even when fans defend her by claiming her lyrics are intentionally bad or that she is merely having fun, her fixation on her public perception—so much so that even songs that declare her love for her husband are addressed to her haters—remains dubious.
This consistent display of immaturity is a frightening thing to watch, particularly because it will always remain profitable. The industry she finds herself unable to detach from consistently rewards self-destructive behavior, especially in women artists.
It’s all the more concerning because of Swift’s profound influence on culture. For years, she has been the celebrity archetype that embodied young women’s aspirations. Admittedly, it was once a beautiful thing to be a part of, having witnessed her inspire a generation of fans to articulate their feelings with clarity and sophistication.
A story of complicity
With the release of four additional songs on her latest album, critics are beginning to take note of the decline in the quality of Swift’s growing discography. The album’s deluxe version received a whopping 4.0 on Pitchfork.
Her song “Patient Zero” has widely been compared to AI explainer music, while another song, “Cleveland!” was criticized for its goofy lyrics and its emphasis on her feelings of unlikeability.
But this is where the real issue lies: When one of the most powerful women in the world is fixated on calling herself unattractive—when, of course, she has always reaped the benefits of her appearance as a lean white woman—what does it do to our collective consciousness?
When a person has access to anything she could possibly want, and yet continues to use her resources—her talent and platform—toward emphasizing her desirability to the dominant class (in this case, her husband, a cis white man), do we simply turn away?
Of course, there is nothing wrong with wanting to be seen as desired by the person one loves, even if he happens to be a straight white man. I am merely trying to draw attention to the dynamic at play. Swift is one of the most powerful women on the planet—more powerful than her high school bullies and her misogynistic internet trolls combined—and yet, she continues to play a game that reinforces their power over her.
And by extension, over women everywhere.
“The Life of a Showgirl” is ultimately about the subscription to patriarchy. Swift is clearly wounded, but she is no longer the system’s victim. Unfortunately, she is reduced to something more sinister—she’s an accomplice.
