Taylor Swift Should Have Said Nothing
By Emma Foley
Tim Walz is wrong. Megyn Kelly is right. Donald Trump is Donald Trump, and Taylor Swift is exactly who J.D. Vance warned us about.
Before I proceed, I believe it is appropriate to establish myself as not a “Swiftie.” I belong to a class of moderate fans who may spend time decoding her lyrics but refrain from indulging in the fanfiction or conspiracy theories about the woman’s personal life. I have never attended a concert nor purchased an album. I cannot rattle off her litany of boyfriends in entirety, let alone in order.
But I am also not a never-Swiftie. I listen every time she releases a new album, I have known the lyrics to every hit she’s released since the second grade, and I have responded half a dozen times to the Gen Z icebreaker, “What era are you in right now?”
It is undeniable that the woman is the zeitgeist. Her catchphrases are ingrained in the cultural lexicon, she is the theme of many birthday parties, and she still convinces people to purchase her music via compact disc.
The Swifties are a force to be reckoned with. They believe, with varying levels of romantic delusion, that they each share a unique connection with the singer. This cohort believes the pop star can do no wrong. They’ll jump through hoops to explain the sudden disappearance of her country twang. They’ve never forgiven Kanye West for the 2009 VMAs or Jake Gyllenhaal for whatever Jake Gyllenhaal did. To them, Swift is the spotless victim who deconstructed a sexist music industry, as portrayed in the 2020 Netflix documentary on her life, Miss Americana.
They also view Swift as the perfect megaphone to shout their politics, which are mostly progressive. Swift’s stardom has only increased since her frosted-cookie backing of Joe Biden for president four years ago. After a terrorism threat caused her to cancel the Vienna leg of her tour this summer, she discussed via Instagram the importance of “silence.” Was this an Easter egg for politically charged Swifties prodding for their leader to engage in Democratic activism?
Now a billionaire due to the tour’s success, Swift’s answer to the classic election polling question, “Are you better off now than you were four years ago?” differs from that of the average American. Swift is basically immune to inflation, has multiple sprawling estates across the country, and takes regular jaunts on private jets, her being another limousine liberal who pretends to care about the climate. If she were smart, she’d skip weighing in on 2024 to avoid drawing attention to her elitism.
There was also the supposed paradigm shift of her mingling with a very Americana organization, the NFL. In a relationship with Kansas City Chiefs tight end Travis Kelce, Swift has spent a lot of time with WAGs (the ‘wives and girlfriends’ of professional athletes). It made one wonder whether that environment, filled with a significant number of outspoken Christians and lovers of sports meritocracy, influenced her politics.
But Swift’s endorsement went to Kamala Harris and her VP pick, Tim Walz. The statement was tired, distributed via the very-millennial Instagram. The voice was tone-deaf. Invoking Senator J. D. Vance’s viral dig on the anti-family Democratic party, the artist signed off on her sermon, “With love and hope, Taylor Swift—Childless Cat Lady.”
Walz called the endorsement courageous. There is no courage in proclaiming that, for your entire adulthood, you have maintained the same opinion held by the Hollywood mob. There is nothing fearless about disabling user comments beneath your endorsement post so dissenters can’t debate your ideas.
Commentator Megyn Kelly called the endorsement evil. Her take is much more accurate. She began the tirade against Swift on her podcast and continued it alongside Tucker Carlson as a guest at his live arena tour.
“She says she’s voting for Kamala Harris,” Kelly seethes, “because of Tim Walz’s LGBTQ record.” She explained the current policy for so-called gender affirming care of minors in the “sanctuary” of Minnesota, where the state government may take custody of children from their parents if they refuse to sign off on cross-sex hormones or irreversible surgery.
Swift also cited Harris’s enthusiastic support for abortion as part of her reasoning, using the euphemism, a “woman’s right to her own body.”
Swift, a role model to hundreds of thousands of young and impressionable women, assured us her decision was well-researched. But it’s really just wicked.
Trump promptly expressed his hatred for the singer on his platform, Truth Social.
Anger at Swift’s choice is justifiable, but hate is not the most productive language or use of time. I hate Taylor Swift’s endorsement. I don’t “hate” Taylor Swift. Actually, I pity her.
Since her breakout in 2006, Swift has been sanctified as an older-sister figure who, though a maker of mistakes, is introspective and thoughtful. Her billionaire or WAG status is nothing against her reputation as the down-home, small-town sweetheart. She’s a monument of proof that the shy girl from high school can grow up to fill a stadium, date the guy on the football team (quite literally), and earn TIME Person of the Year— a title given to global leaders such as Pope Francis and Elon Musk.
Swift is a siren that millions adore worldwide. She is talented, as a business woman at least— everything millennial women were told they needed to be. But I have yet to be convinced that during any phase of her rise to stardom has she ever been truly happy.
I pity that her parents moved her to Nashville at age fourteen to push her career forward. That she signed contracts in high school she’d later need to claw and climb out of. That she’s rich off songs about her mistreatment by men with “smash the patriarchy” merchandise. That real privacy is now a luxury she’ll never be able to afford, as she fends off jet-trackers and creeps.
I pity that with her ability to reach a nation in a few clicks of a button, she chooses to mislead her audience. That she thinks women need abortion to succeed. That she is perpetuating the scandal that is the chemical castration and genital mutilation of children under the guise of love. That she has never taught her female fans what a stable love life looks like, and that she wears “childless cat lady” as a badge of honor.
Emma Foley is a content manager at National Review and former digital managing editor for the Howie Carr Radio Network. She grew up in Pennsylvania, but after graduating from Boston College, she decided to make Massachusetts her new home.
