From ‘thank u, next’ to Wicked, Ariana Grande has reinvented herself – but where does evolution end and appropriation begin, and where does her true self lie?
Who decides a music artists’ ‘true identity’? Is it themselves as they go through a journey of self-discovery, changes and growth? Perhaps their aesthetic, genre or background defines their true identity. Or is it the ‘big music machine’ supporting, managing and controlling the artists identity, deciding when it changes, and what it changes to? Could it be the fans, projecting their hopes, dreams and expectations onto their idols?
Now you might be wondering: ‘what does discussing an artist’s identity metrics have to do with Ariana Grande?’ Well, a fourteen-year-old me questioned the ‘true identity’ of Ariana Grande when I discovered that she was in fact, not a black woman. My assumptions of her race came from many factors: her musical sound, aesthetics, lyrics, skin colour, personality and vernacular. Obviously, I’m sure we can all agree that a race cannot fall into specific check-boxes or levels. My own experiences, background and exposure to different subjects also partly fueled my assumptions. I’m a young woman of colour raised in London by a father that would play non-stop 80’s soul, 90’s rap and R&B, and y2k throwbacks.
I viewed my assumption of Ariana Grande’s ethnicity as a large indication of what I believed to be her true identity. Alongside this, I believed she was happy and content in being that version of herself. That was up until I watched episode 71 and 72 of Podcrushed’s interview with Ariana Grande, where she mentions that her style and aesthetic “was just heavy and like a lot.” She even addressed my fan theory, saying “a lot of my fans still love that style”. At the time, she didn’t realise that she would hide her true self in the process with “more and more”. Naturally, I was led down a rabbit hole, in which I questioned the intentions behind every move of a musical artist. Like, do they really like the new hair? Do they really love their genre, outfit style, and this new ‘era’? From Taylor Swift’s shift from Country to Pop (and then a bit of both here and there), or Chappel Roan’s rebrand as more authentic to herself after being dropped by Atlantic Records in August 2020 – there are countless examples that lead me to really wonder if an artist is being their true selves.
Now this discussion doesn’t exist in a vacuum. It bridges ideas of accepting growth and change, whether natural or not. Understanding a musical artist’s true identity can apply to fashion trends, plastic surgery… the list is endless. But as a woman of colour, I have to ask: at what point does aesthetic experimentation become appropriation? When an artist shapeshiftes through aesthetics – from tanned skin and accent shifts to musical genres – is it creative evolution or cultural consumption?
Exploring her 7 Rings/thank u, next era, it had clear Japanese aesthetics, a hip-hop style and Black vernacular, leaving fans still debating whether it is homage or exploitation. Fans often bring up Victoria Monet’s involvement with the album creation (and friendship) to justify the decisions from that era. Now, comparing this to her recent Wicked era, she’s transitioned from a tanned, trap-beat-heavy pop princess (with accusations of heavy use of AAVE) to a pale, ethereal, fairytale-like character, with completely different mannerism and vernacular, both on and off screens. Some fans call it her ‘soft rebrand,’ while others see it as her finally being her true self. Has she been performing a version of herself all along, and is ‘Glinda’ any less constructed? Comments across many social platforms range from saying “She’s finally healing,” or “I miss the old Ari,” showing how even fans are split between nostalgia and acceptance of change. Maybe the ‘true’ Ariana Grande doesn’t exist, only the one we want her to be.
As Ariana floats through her Wicked Glinda era, and pale pinks replace browns, ballads replace trap beats, the question of authenticity feels more complex than ever. Maybe Ariana isn’t trying to reclaim her “true” self so much as showing us how fluid selfhood can be. We want our idols to stay the same, sound the same and look the same, but maybe the performance of change is the point. After all, if identity is something that can be worn, styled, or streamed, then perhaps the truest version of our favourite artists is simply the one they chose to be that day.