An Open Letter to Taylor Swift: Thank You For Being A Friend

I’ve written a few pieces for our site about a tall, blonde pop star named Taylor Swift throughout the years. I’ve reviewed her recent albums, discussed her “Bad Blood” music video, and even defended her against those who would shame or dismiss her. But now I’m writing this post-VMAs piece, mostly because I don’t have much to say about the awards themselves, but also because Taylor Swift continues to genuinely impress me as a human being. And rather than simply repeat that she impresses me, I'd like to actually elaborate on why.

So this is an open letter to Taylor, because I feel like we could be friends. And I don't know about you all, but I’m always in desperate need of more female friends who are genuinely supportive and kind-hearted and representative of the true values of feminism. It’s an open letter because even though I’ve never met Taylor and will probably never meet her, I feel like I know her. Maybe you do too. This letter is for you, also.

Dear Taylor, 

Hey there. Should I call you Taylor? Tay-Tay? T-Swift? Maybe I’ll just stick with Taylor for now. I’m writing this letter mainly because I wanted to thank you for who you are. And as I’m sitting here, thinking about writing this out, it strikes me as sort of odd that this is even something I have to thank you for. Maybe that is because we live in a world where it’s so common to wake up every day and wear a persona as commonly as we would wear our jacket. It's just something that we do so often that we don’t even think twice before donning that persona before we leave our homes every morning. We’re all actors, in a way, I guess. But what I’ve noticed about you, Taylor, is that you’ve kind of started refusing to do that (in the most polite and genuine way possible). I think that so often we’re terrified to be who we really are around other people, especially if they’ve already put us on a pedestal in their minds and hearts. We don’t like to disappoint others. We don’t like to have our masks forcibly removed and our true selves beneath the personas revealed. We don’t like being vulnerable. It’s terrifying because it’s exposing; it's terrifying because people can see us and recoil in horror or run away. Because there we are – all of us. Our flaws laid bare and our feelings uncovered. It’s gut-wrenching to be real with other people. And it's always a risk. It really is. 

So that’s why I have to thank you: thank you for showing everyone that it’s scary to be vulnerable but that being real with others is what makes us human and it makes us more relatable to other people and is what will ultimately make us better. Recently, I saw a video of the introduction you gave at your 1989 tour before “Clean.” I watched it on my phone, sitting on the floor of my living room and I started to cry into my chicken lo mein. And I couldn't stop. So I wanted to take this opportunity to thank you for making me cry. Thank you for saying the things that other people are too jaded or scared to say. Thank you for reminding us all that who we are is often defined by what we believe about ourselves, for better or for worse. I needed to hear that and I feel like we all need to hear that, multiple times every single day of our lives. 

I’m writing this open letter mainly because of what you’ve done in the media recently. You made a mistake on Twitter and you made amends. I’ve been there. You’ve been scrutinized by the media for years because of your romantic life. I… okay, admittedly I don’t have experience at all with that aspect of your life. But regardless of the situation you have been thrust into or encountered on your own, you always managed to handle these things with grace and poise and tact that made me think you’re a lot wiser than your years might suggest. But most recently, you’ve done some things that have endeared you to me even further. You’ve chosen to share your spotlight. I mean, you’ve always done this, but you’ve now actively chosen to share it with women – all kinds of women. And your feminist squad is the kind of squad anyone should be proud to join. 

Fun fact: I’ve been referred to by people as “Taylor Swift” before. Once, it was by a guy who did not mean it as a compliment but an insult. This guy was cute and I liked him a lot and yet that was (among a few other things) pretty much a deal-breaker for me. More recently, though, I’ve been referred to as “Taylor Swift” and it’s been used as a compliment. So let me tell you what people mean when they say that. They use your name as something that is synonymous with “kind” and “generous” and “good-hearted,” all of which you are. You’re not a celebrity who is seeking attention and fame. You’re not someone desperate to be noticed in the spotlight, eagerly waving your hands around like a toddler begging: “Notice me! Notice me!” You’re comfortable in your own skin and I’ll venture to guess that you didn’t always feel that way and you probably still don’t, in some moments. Because we’re all human and we're women. Insecurities follow us around like annoying little mosquitoes we just can't stop from biting us. What people mean when they use your name as an adjective in a positive way is that the person being talked about and complimented exudes selflessness. You deserve a lot of credit for all the work you do, between writing and playing music, touring endlessly, and shooting videos and interviews among all kinds of other demanding things. You have every right in the world to be selfish given the life you lead and the schedule you must have and the lack of sleep you must endure during tours. 

But you don’t choose selfishness. You don’t use your fame as an excuse; you don’t brandish it as a weapon. Instead, you could easily take the stage at every awards show and talk about your success and yourself, or at the very least, keep the microphone in your hands. But you choose to step aside and give your platform to others – whether with Joseph Kahn or seventeen amazing other women. You don’t let your status or your success become a way to distance yourself from others, but as a way to bring yourself closer to us. 

I suspect you’re a great friend. And a daughter. And a sister. And you’ll be a great godmother. Because from all that I’ve seen of you, I have no reason to believe anything otherwise. See, it’s one thing to surround yourself with women and call yourself a “feminist” – it’s another for women to willingly gravitate toward YOU. That’s the marker of a true feminist, in my opinion. Do women want to be around you or do they keep themselves at a distance? If the latter, you have to ask yourself why. But if the former, you don’t need to question whether you’re doing something right. You are. You, Taylor, are a feminist. And you’re this way, I believe, because you’ve learned the value that can only come through genuine female friendships and through co-existing in those valuable female friendships. Anyone can surround themselves with women and boast about how much of a feminist they are. Anyone can write feminist diatribes online. Anyone can reblog quotes on Tumblr or retweet articles on Twitter. But I know women who claim to be feminists who delight in cutting other women down. I know women who claim to be feminists who revel in the fact that they are always right, all of the time. I know women who claim to be feminists who can’t hear the opinions of others over the sound of their own voices. 

I've never met you and even I know that you’re not that kind of person. You’re not a woman who claims to be a feminist and then turns around and hangs other women out to dry. You invite them into your life – into your home, into your celebrations, and – most importantly of all – into your success. That’s not something that would be easy for some people to do, honestly. But the fact that you share everything with women makes them draw closer to you. The ones who stick around, matter, Taylor. And I’m sure you know this already, but the ones who don’t matter – those superficial friends – will make themselves pretty clearly evident in your life. You’re a lot like one of my best friends, you know. She used to surround herself with a lot of guys and a lot of relationships. And there is nothing inherently wrong with having a number of boyfriends or dating. At all. But I think she recognized that there is something fundamentally lacking in romance with a man that you get from a platonic female friendship. I assume you’ve learned that, too: love is so very important in life, but love in female relationships is one of the foundations that we need to build our characters, as women, upon. 

Okay. The bottom line here is that I feel like I know you and I’m friends with you. Is that strange? Even though you’re a songwriter and I mostly write poems and articles and the occasional short story, I feel like we’re connected in that sense. Writers know these things about one another. Your music has gotten me through some of the most difficult periods of my life. (You and Demi Lovato got me through some thorny romantic hurdles, let me tell you.) And what you’ve managed to do as a writer is inspiring. You’ve taken your personal story and invited us into it, like it was a warm, cozy cottage complete with a crackling fire, a warm blanket, and fresh cinnamon sugar cookies. You’ve not just invited us in though – you’ve allowed us to stay there. You’ve taken your home and asked us to make it ours as well. So when you write, you write your experiences as if we’ve been there with you, too, the entire time, listening right by your shoulder. You’ve taken an intimate moment and made it even more intimate. You’ve allowed us all to tether our pain to yours, our joy to yours, and our hope to yours. That is truly the mark of an amazing writer: to take something personal and to make it universal is no easy feat. 

So that’s why I feel like I know you. It’s because you feel like a friend who’s been with me for years, as constant a presence as my roommate or my childhood best friends are. I know it’s weird to say that a person feels “real” to them because yes, obviously you’re a real person. You are living and breathing. There’s no doubt about that.  

But the reason people connect with you, Taylor, and the reason that they love you and sell out your shows and vote for you in awards and celebrate you online is because you feel like you’ve been our friend all along. 

Maybe you have. 

- Jenn

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Feminism, "Bad Blood" and The T-Swift Revolution

It's not a real surprise to anyone here that I love Taylor Swift. If I could figure out a way to become her friend, I would in a heartbeat. The truth is that the reason I love Taylor -- and the reason that so many people around the world do, too -- is because she's not afraid to be honest and vulnerable and to occasionally rub other people the wrong way, but do it with grace and poise. Taylor is the kind of person who you know you could curl up with on a couch on a Sunday morning and talk about your life over a steaming mug of coffee. She's the kind of person who will make you -- not buy you -- a Christmas card. She's the kind of friend who would send you a care package if you were having a rough week at work -- one that would have balsam candles and herbal teas. I've never met Taylor Swift, but this is the kind of person and friend she always appears to be. You can dismiss her as an artist if you want, but it would be extremely difficult to dismiss her good heart as a person and the countless things she does for her fans.

So when Taylor Swift embarked on a journey that moved her to New York -- a journey that didn't include a boyfriend -- I became even more impressed with her because slowly, but subtly, Taylor began to change in the best way possible. She did what we all do at some point in our lives: she began to surround herself with people who were different from her, but who challenged her. She focused on herself and her new adventures in life. She was focused on knowing more about who SHE was. And that was extremely admirable. Along the way, Taylor Swift began to slowly talk more openly about feminism and issues surrounding women.

I always thought that Taylor Swift was the kind of person who feminists should have rallied around. Instead, I found it fascinating that people -- women, particularly -- mocked her. They dismissed her, thinking her to be juvenile for writing songs about break-ups. They rolled their eyes whenever she was mentioned. They joked about what guy she must be dating and whether or not she would be writing a song about them soon. They, unknowingly, perpetuated a problem that has been in existence in the music world (and really, the world at large): a woman cannot write a break-up song without being deemed "sad" or "desperate" or "pathetic." But if a man writes a break-up song, it's heralded as "beautiful" and "emotional." I think I mentioned this before in another post of mine about Taylor Swift, but Maroon 5 literally has an entire album (Songs About Jane) devoted to one ex-girlfriend and I have never heard any -- any -- criticisms of that fact. And yet, I constantly hear snide remarks regarding Taylor's music, dismissing it while elevating the male equivalent.

What's that hashtag, again? Oh, right.

#WhyWeNeedFeminism

1989 is a fantastic and daring album. I wrote about it before, so I won't reiterate what I said in my review, but it truly is Taylor Swift at her best: being honest, raw, vulnerable, fun, and inventive. One of the songs on the album -- "Bad Blood" -- was recently released as a single and the music video debuted at the Billboard Music Awards. Taylor had teased the video for quite a while on her Instagram, releasing character images each day. The guest stars ranged from best friend Karlie Kloss to supermodel Cindy Crawford, actress and producer Lena Dunham, and actress Ellen Pompeo. I loved the music video on my first viewing. I thought it was visually stunning (with credit to Joseph Kahn for directing it). It was fun. Things blew up! Taylor got to have an army! There were SO MANY AWESOME WOMEN IN IT.

It was only on my second viewing that I actually began to really think about the message behind the video and the song itself. "Bad Blood" is a song about a female friendship that goes sour because there's a lack of trust and mutual respect. Someone is stabbed in the back. Sound familiar? If you're a woman, it probably sounds like half a dozen different relationships you've had in your life. "Bad Blood" is primarily interested in talking about the feeling of betrayal. It's a declaration song, really, bursting at the seams with emotion and pain. But it's more than just that -- the video sends a really powerful message about feminism.

Every woman should surround herself with female friends who challenge her, inspire her, educate her, and empower her. That is the essence of feminism, right there: ladies supporting ladies. Now, here's a kicker (and I've discussed this a lot with my friend Chelsea, who could talk for hours about feminism): not every woman will get along with every other woman. That's not what feminism is. Feminism -- and #LadiesSupportingLadies -- isn't about being friends with everyone. It's about not slamming other women so that men can be boosted. It's about respecting each other enough to either embrace one another or keep a respectable distance from each other.

So in the "Bad Blood" music video, it's really important that we see Taylor Swift and Selena Gomez's alter egos display this idea quite clearly. The video begins with Taylor Swift (Catastrophe) and Selena Gomez (Arsyn) taking out bad guys together. Let me repeat that: they're taking down men. Together. And they're strong and fierce and kicking a lot of butt. Why? Because they're doing it side-by-side. But then... then, Arsyn distracts Catastrophe and takes what she wants from her, literally killing Catastrophe in the process.

Poignant, no? There's a clear message here that when women seek to destroy each other (and what's SO important is that every woman in this video is a destroyer, an assassin, a warrior princess -- because EVERY woman has the capacity to fight and to be vicious), they end up killing each other in the process. Catastrophe is reborn with the assistance of a lot of female fighters, all with various skill sets and knowledge -- all extremely different women with unique personalities, too. Sensing the symbolism yet? I thought it was really interesting and telling that Taylor chose to spend 98% of the music video focused on these women: on these people preparing themselves and Catastrophe for battle.

Because isn't that, as I said above, what feminism is really all about? What #LadiesSupportingLadies is all about? This is an idea that each woman has something to offer the world and to offer other women. Women who are sympathetic by nature can teach women who are more jaded how to empathize with others. Women who are timid can learn how to stand up for themselves and find their voices if women who are opinionated and extroverted stand beside them. Women who are book-smart can help other women learn how to study. Women who are spiritual can help other women find meaning in an otherwise hopeless situation. Women need other women. Women can always LEARN from other women. But only when we allow ourselves the chance.

Catastrophe is taught by all kinds of women in the "Bad Blood" video. Even when she's dueling with others, she's not fighting with them -- she's learning FROM them. That's what's important. That is what the focus of "Bad Blood" was about. The song is about a woman who tears another woman down; the video is about that same feeling of betrayal but also about how to take your bitterness and turn it into something productive, something useful.

So when Catastrophe and her squad are finally prepared for battle, they approach Arsyn and her army from across a desert-like landscape and... the video ends just as the women throw the first punch at each other. If you think that's surprising, you'd be in the majority. In any other music video, at the hands of any other producer, the majority of the video would be focused on the battle and it would end with Taylor Swift's alter ego victorious, standing over her enemy. The message, then, would be clear: Taylor wins. If you mess with her and her friends, you'll be taken down every single time. She's the victor, never the vanquished. That's just how the story goes, right?

But that's not how the story goes in "Bad Blood," which is really important. Catastrophe and Arsyn approach each other equally -- they both have armies. They both are skilled. They both are powerful. There is equality even in adversity for these women. Here is the message of "Bad Blood" in a nutshell that Taylor Swift so accurately conveys: women are always stronger when they're together, no matter what their beliefs, ages, races, etc.

Women are ALWAYS stronger when they're together.

Catastrophe and Arsyn certainly are. Catastrophe is stronger because she surrounded herself with powerful women and learned all they had to teach her. Taylor Swift is stronger because of this, too. She's a stronger version of herself because of the women she's chosen to allow into her life. Love isn't what's most important in this life, friends. Our society makes it seem that way -- that the fairytale ending is what we should all strive to achieve. Love is important. Being in love is wonderful.

But being the best version of yourself for yourself and for the people around you? That is what is important. The friendships you forge during pivotal points in your life are the relationships that will shape who you are, who you become, and will cause you to realize how strong you are and, conversely, how much we all -- as human beings -- need friends.

Women need other women.

And that's what feminism is all about, Charlie Brown.

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"1989" Album Review (It's T-Swift-a-Palooza, Part Two)

When I reviewed Taylor Swift's Red, I explained that I was once called "Taylor Swift" by a guy that I liked and realized that he meant it as an insult, rather than a compliment. And over the years, I've thought a lot about Swift as an artist and a person. I even spent an entire blog post defending her. And what I've realized to be true about her and myself in the process is this: Taylor Swift is brave and vulnerable and a writer, which means that I feel such an emotional connection to her because I, too, am a writer. Writers feel things deeply. No, let me rephrase that: writers feel everything deeply. It's the way that we are wired. While other people look at a dark sky and see an approaching storm, we hear the sizzle of the lightning and smell the impending rain and feel this indescribable feeling of dread and exhilaration as the clouds move faster and faster overhead.

At one point in a 1989 bonus track, Swift expresses this notion, saying that she watched love unfold -- the kind of feelings she's spent "her whole life trying to put into words." It's a beautifully unguarded moment where I felt an intense connection to her because I've spent my entire life trying to do the same. I think that Swift knows there will always be things in life she cannot put into words, physically, but that won't ever stop her from trying to do so. In 1989, we see that clearly because every track on this album is a story and every track is wholly unguarded and raw in the most beautiful and honest way possible. When people tell stories about love, they often only tell the good parts. They talk about roses and first kisses and the sparks in peoples' eyes. There is nothing inherently wrong with that, but it's really only half of the story. The other half of love is the complicated, messy, vulnerable part. It's the fight that escalated over one word. It's the nights you question whether or not you made the right choice. It's the moment right before you call it quits or the days spent being jealous of someone else.

Swift is unafraid in 1989 to take risks, but the risks that she takes aren't those of releasing a solely pop album. If we're all being honest with ourselves, Red was a pop album that had a song ("Stay Stay Stay") that sounded country. No, Swift is getting older and her lyrics and tone are only changing because she is. When you're younger, you write in your diary; when you become 25 years old, you begin to write your memoir. And the reason I think that this album is her most compelling yet is because we -- as the audience -- are becoming more trusted by Swift. How do I know this? I know this because 1989 features the most raw, open, and vulnerable parts of her life. And you only share those parts with people you love and trust.

This album isn't perfect, but the point of it isn't to BE perfect. The point of it is to be real and relatable and inviting and compelling and yet still magical and hopeful and wonderful. The point of 1989 is to sound and feel like Taylor Swift at every single turn. And in that, it definitely succeeds. Below, I've discussed each track in-depth. See what my thoughts are and then comment on this post with some of your own, if you'd like.

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In Defense of Taylor Swift

and the saddest fear comes creeping in

that you never loved me, or her, or anyone or anything

On my birthday weekend, I was in the car with two of my good friends and co-workers. We were listening to the radio and as a Taylor Swift song came on (“I Knew You Were Trouble”), my friend Kate stretched out her fingers to turn the station but then swiveled to face me and said: “Since it’s your birthday, we’ll let you listen to her.” I then proceeded to sing and dance in the back seat. Kate and Heather are like a lot of individuals in that they dislike Taylor Swift quite a bit. They find her annoying and irritating and obviously their feelings aren’t a “make or break” condition in my friendship with them. Still, it does rather unsettle me whenever people complain about or make fun of the young woman I’ve grown to adore over the past few years. And though this post isn’t meant to sway your opinion, nor is it intended to force you to accept or even like Taylor Swift, it IS a post meant to defend her. Because my name is Jennifer, I’m twenty-five years old, and I absolutely admire the blonde, sassy, immensely talented young woman known as Taylor Swift.

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"Red" Album Review (It's T-Swift-a-Palooza!)

I was called “Taylor Swift” by a guy once. It wasn’t, as I soon discovered, meant to necessarily be a compliment. He was implying that I was naïve and young – and he viewed Taylor Swift the same way.

To be honest, a lot of people still think of Taylor Swift as that fifteen year old girl singing about Tim McGraw and high school romances. And it’s interesting that people do this – that they view her, still, as a child – because they don’t frequently act the same way with normal twenty-two year olds. I’m rapidly approaching my twenty fourth year of life, and I can honestly say that no one has approached me on the street, looked at me and patted me on the head, calling me “sweetie.” No one talks to me condescendingly, like I’m a teenage girl, when I announce plans or dreams or visions. And, on the rare times I talk about love or relationships, I haven’t come across anyone yet who shakes their head or rolls their eyes and says: “Would you stop being so immature?”

So I return, once more, to the question: why do people tend to treat Taylor Swift like a child when she has been a legal adult for years? Perhaps it’s because Miss Swift is in the spotlight, or because she is famous for writing break-up songs or because she has a child-like sweet disposition. And Swift’s previous albums have reflected her own personal journey as an artist – from her first self-titled album, to the eclectic “Speak Now” record, it’s clear that Swift has grown both as a person and as an artist. But it’s “Red,” her latest record, which intrigues me the most.

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