Understanding the Taylor Swift Phenomenon

In this lighthearted series, CNN staffers explore why we just don’t get things that other people seem to love.

I just don’t get Taylor Swift. There, I said it. (DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT DISLIKE HER. I WISH HER ALL OF THE HAPPINESS AND SUCCESS IN THE WORLD. PLEASE, I HAVE A FAMILY.)

It feels so liberating to not be concerned about something, right? When my friends get all excited about the latest Eras Tour or their favorite Taylor Swift song, I simply nod along politely as if they were discussing professional darts or French cinema, and I feel a sense of calm washing over me.

I realize that I don't necessarily have to love everything or hate it either. I can just observe things as they come and go, like a leaf floating down a river, and casually remark, "Well, that's certainly something!"

It can be challenging when something seems to be tailor-made for your enjoyment.

Taylor Swift's appeal is wide, but the data shows that her fan base, known as Swifties, are mostly White suburban millennial women like myself. While experts have discussed the issue of representation and diversity in Swift's music, that's a separate conversation from what I want to address here.

I find it frustrating when my peers constantly praise Taylor Swift's music as the epitome of girlhood and womanhood. Critics often describe her as the voice of millennials, while others believe she represents an audience that is often overlooked.

Although I understand the appeal, hearing songs like "Cardigan" or "Cruel Summer" referenced repeatedly can make me question if there's something lacking in my own musical preferences.

You kept me like a secret, but I kept you like an oath.

You showed me colors you know I can’t see with anyone else.

Beautiful lines! Great lines. Many fans see these stanzas as inspiring poetry that reflects their own identity, often using them on shirts, throw pillows, and even Stanley cups.

But are they truly one-of-a-kind? Personally, I've never found anything in a Taylor Swift song about love, loss, heartbreak, revenge, shame, or self-discovery that I couldn't find from many other artists. It's as if I missed a class on the shared experiences of women that are meant to link us to her.

I have a lot of respect for Taylor Swift fans. I've witnessed countless women enthusiastically singing along to "You Belong With Me" at the start of a 10k race, even at 4:15am. It looked like they were having a great time, and who could possibly have a problem with that?

Sometimes, not caring about Taylor Swift can be tough. It feels like I might be missing out on something special. It feels like my life, and maybe even my sense of self, could be a bit smoother if I could form a single original thought about Taylor Swift beyond "She's a good role model!" or "I really like her hairstyle!"

Until recently, confessing that I don't like Taylor Swift's music was seen as a strange political stance. In certain groups, simply stating this could lead to being labeled as a hater, a misogynist, a contrarian bore, or one of those women who tries to separate herself from others.

If you think this lack of interest stems from snobbery, you're mistaken! I don't have a great taste in music. My top Spotify tracks consist of Spanish gospel hymns and titles like "soothing 438 mHz tone therapy for very delicate people."

It's not an exaggeration to say that. Recently, The Cut published a story about a woman who ended a friendship because her friend didn't like Taylor Swift. Paste Magazine also chose not to credit the author of a critical review of "Poets" due to threats received after a negative review of Swift's 2019 album "Lover."

Despite these extreme cases, there is often a sense of unease in admitting that you're not a fan of something that society expects you to love deeply. However, the era of Taylor Swift being the ultimate cultural authority may be fading. While her fans celebrated the release of her new double-length album, critical reviews were more mixed.

After the hype surrounding "The Eras Tour" and her support for her boyfriend, Kansas City Chiefs player Travis Kelce, the public seems more willing to discuss Swift in a balanced manner, rather than in extreme adoration or irrational hatred.

If you don’t love Taylor Swift, if you don’t hate her; if she is simply not something that affects your life whatsoever, it’s probably safe to come out now. Go, take your apathy, and be free.

Editor's P/S:

The article explores the phenomenon of not being able to connect with something that others seem to love intensely. The author uses Taylor Swift as an example, expressing her indifference towards the singer's music despite its widespread popularity. She highlights the societal pressure to conform to shared cultural experiences and the discomfort that can arise when one deviates from the norm.

The author challenges the notion that Taylor Swift represents the collective voice of women and questions the exclusivity of her fanbase. She also points out the potential for backlash and judgment when expressing negative opinions about popular figures. However, she suggests that this era of unquestioning adoration may be waning, allowing for more balanced perspectives on Taylor Swift and her music. The article ultimately encourages individuals to embrace their own preferences and not feel pressured to conform to societal expectations.