2024 was undeniably the year of Taylor Swift. Whether you wanted to see her or not, she was everywhere — breaking records with her tour, dominating the charts with her music, and making headlines with her new all-American relationship.
This got on a lot of people’s nerves — specifically, those who never liked her to begin with. But what about the effect this had on a die-hard fan?
My name is Vyana Patel, and I’m a former die-hard Swift fan.
Scary to say out loud, let alone on the internet, but these past few months have taught me several lessons and warranted many realizations that I believe are worth documenting.
So, this is my story on how I, at the ripe age of 22 (coincidentally), broke free from a celebrity obsession that helped me understand objectivity and the dangers of celebrity idolization.
Taylor Swift, My *First* “great american dynasty”
To paint a picture of my admiration, to me, Swift was a flawless force, beyond reproach and undeniably talented in both songwriting and performance.
I sincerely admired her as a person. Her music connected with me on a profound level that still does truthfully. I’ve always been amazed by how interpretable her lyrics are and how she could write about emotions she felt as a 15-year-old that resonated with me as a 9-year-old and still do now at 22. Her songwriting has always felt timeless (strap in for the references).
My admiration for her grew with every milestone, whether it was how she handled the Kanye situation, carrying it through the release of Reputation, or how she fought to reclaim the rights to her music.
With each phase of her career, I found more reasons to feel engulfed by her and, by extension, fall deeper into what I can now safely acknowledge as a pretty intense obsession. It’s a pretty heavy word to throw around, but it truly was obsessive in its nature. What started as a love for her discography morphed into a parasocial attachment.
Suddenly, I wasn’t just invested in her music; I was invested in her. I felt like I knew her — like I understood what she was like — all of this, of course, without actually knowing her at all.
“my *Fears* ricochet”
This obsession blurred the line between idol and person. She was untouchable to me. Every criticism seemed baseless, every controversy exaggerated. I was convinced the world just didn’t understand her, and while some of that is true, much of it was justified away or simply went unnoticed by me.
That is until I took MUS 520: Women in Popular Music with Dr. Jennifer Taylor (my favourite course and professor at Toronto Metropolitan University so far). This course single-handedly changed the way I thought about Swift specifically, but also about celebrities as a whole and their idolization.
Out of popular demand from the students in the class, Dr. Taylor prepared a lecture centred around Taylor Swift. I was so excited, but truthfully, I didn’t think I would learn anything I didn’t already know, and I couldn’t have been more wrong.
Dr. Taylor prefaced the lecture by acknowledging that there are several fans in the class but that we shouldn’t let that get in the way of being objective. The premise of the course was learning about women in music and understanding the brutality of the music industry when you’re a woman. While it’s harder for women to flourish in the industry, this should not prevent us from being objective about them or recognizing their flaws and faults.
It took a few days to settle in, but the lecture sparked an epiphany, a slow-burning kind. I had idolized Swift to the point where it was harmful and misguided. I reached a point where I couldn’t be objective. Her faults were always there, and I think, deep down, I had some idea of them, but I ignored them completely.
All The “Bad Blood”
So, what exactly did this lecture point out? We couldn’t cover everything, but the key discussion points included the weaponization of her fanbase, her ability to consistently garner sympathy by playing into a victim trope, and how she manipulates information to control the narrative.
But once it unravelled, I couldn’t look away, and this epiphany began to set in. Here are some of my takeaways:
Selective feminism
Suddenly, the events I once defended Swift for looked different, and new ones were harder to ignore. For example, her selective feminism.
Swift has championed women supporting women in a male-dominated industry her entire career, yet she has a history of calling out female artists when it benefits her. Bad Blood framed Katy Perry as a villain, portraying her as the betrayer in a public feud.
When Nicki Minaj critiqued the VMAs for favouring white women in the Video of the Year category, Swift took the comment personally, responding with, “I’ve done nothing but love and support you. It’s unlike you to pit women against each other,“ instead of acknowledging the valid critique of race and industry bias.
Most recently, and most tellingly, she released multiple versions of her albums, seemingly to secure her top spot and prevent artists like Charli XCX’s Brat from reaching number one.
Calculated Politics
Then there’s her political advocacy, which is also selective.
In 2019, she finally spoke out politically after years of silence, expressing regret for not using her platform sooner. However, her timing was very convenient; she only began addressing American politics, reproductive rights, and LGBTQ+ rights once they became more socially acceptable to discuss.
While she advocates for these causes now, she remains silent on international human rights crises, carefully engaging only when it’s beneficial, convenient, or low-risk for her brand.
Celebrities shouldn’t be expected to be society’s moral compass, but if you brand yourself as politically engaged, you don’t get to pick and choose which issues to acknowledge. Her advocacy also tends to peak around election cycles, raising questions about whether it’s a genuine commitment or a calculated move to maintain relevance.
Capitalist core
And, of course, she’s a master of capitalism.
Over the years, Swift has perfected the art of repackaging her music into endless variations to boost sales. From exclusive vinyl releases to limited-edition versions of her albums, she taps into her fanbase’s loyalty, encouraging them to purchase the same product multiple times.
The same goes for her merchandise, much of which is cheaply made but heavily overpriced. This isn’t about artistry or fostering connections with her fans — it’s about profit.
What’s even more disheartening is the fact that her audience is getting younger, meaning children are often the primary targets for her apparel. By releasing multiple iterations of things like cardigans based on each era, she reinforces consumerism, making fans feel as though they must own every piece of merchandise to truly be a part of the community.
That’s the Thing About *Cult-Like* Affairs
But perhaps the most dangerous flaw, the one that amplifies all her others, is Swift’s fandom. From the beginning, she has cultivated an environment where her fans feel like an extension of her, making them feel seen, important, and like they belong. This connection is powerful, but it can be so overwhelming that it goes beyond admiration. It becomes devotion. It becomes allegiance. It becomes almost cult-like.
She is acutely aware of this and weaponizes it when necessary. When she faces criticism, she doesn’t need to defend herself; her fans do it for her. They swarm, attack, and harass anyone who dares speak against her. A prime example of this is the backlash to Folklore‘s review by Pitchfork. After the album received an 8/10 rating instead of a perfect 10, some fans became enraged and resorted to tracking down the critic, Jillian Mapes, sending her death threats and other harmful messages.
Rather than addressing or discouraging this behaviour, Taylor Swift remains silent, all while being fully aware of the situation. It’s clear that she understands the power of her fanbase, and while she doesn’t directly encourage harmful actions, she benefits from the loyalty they provide. It’s unsettling to think about how much she understands her fandom’s dynamics and how that understanding shapes her career.
There’s a reason she keeps grievances alive long after they should have been put to rest, she knows her fans will champion her every step of the way. By continuously playing the victim, she garners sympathy and ensures their unwavering support.
This is evident in her most recent album, The Tortured Poets Department (her absolute worst, in my opinion, but that’s a separate article), where she sings sympathy-ploy songs about decade-old issues regarding Kim Kardashian in “thanK you aIMee” or laments past media treatment in “Who’s Afraid of Little Old Me?”
These same grievances have been rehashed in every album, to the point where the media has entered several other cycles of discussion about her, now focusing on her global takeover and economic impact. Yet she remains hell-bent on matters that have been discussed so much that it’s almost miraculous there’s still more to say.
What’s truly heartbreaking in all of this is that the people at the center of this power play are fans who simply love her music.
But being just a fan isn’t enough; her fandom demands total immersion. To truly belong, you must know every lyric, every Easter egg, every cryptic message. You must buy every variant of her albums and every piece of merch.
This creates a loyalty that keeps fans devoted, making them feel obligated to defend and champion her, trapping them in a cycle of commitment that, intentionally or not, strengthens Taylor’s influence. This a cycle someone can only truly break free from once they develop the ability to be objective and rid themselves of idolization.
Swift has a deep psychological understanding of her fandom; she knows how quickly they will succumb to her demands and, for that reason, will likely never shut down toxic fan behaviour because it works entirely in her favour. Maybe this is something that developed over time, or maybe it’s the result of a carefully calculated business strategy. It’s impossible to say for sure, but once you recognize and understand the patterns, it becomes difficult to ignore the evidence. After all, she has told us time and time again that she is a “mastermind” and “it is all by design,” maybe it’s time we acknowledge it.
“this is me trying” *To Wrap It Up*
As I attempt to conclude this, I want to reiterate that I’m not interested in endorsing hate toward her. I don’t hate Taylor Swift. I don’t love her either, but I’m perfectly in between. The key thing I’ve learned from this is that you don’t have to be an all-or-nothing fan; you can enjoy her music without becoming deeply enmeshed in her fandom.
This applies to all forms of fandom. Being a fan is a beautiful thing. It’s moving to care so deeply about something that it brings you joy, a sense of inclusion, and a community of people who share that same interest. But that doesn’t mean you have to elevate the person you admire to a pedestal, assuming they’re perfect or beyond reproach.
The world often looks for reasons to criticize women in the spotlight, and this piece is not a vehicle to do that. It’s about providing an objective view of a monumental figure in the industry.
Women in the media are often forced into extremes; either you’re a hardcore fan, or you’re a detractor, and there’s rarely space for nuance. I want to be in that nuanced space, where I’m not assumed to be a “die-hard Swiftie” based on my taste in music, nor labelled a “Taylor Swift hater” because I don’t agree with everything about her or her public persona.
I don’t hate her as a person, I don’t hate her as a woman, and I certainly don’t hate her success. But I believe that being a fan and being critical doesn’t need to be mutually exclusive. Both extremes come with flaws, and I’m not in the business of perpetuating any of them.
Swift has and will always hold a special place in my heart. Her music will forever carry profound weight for me, and her songwriting will never cease to amaze me. It’s for this reason specifically that I feel it’s most appropriate for me to share my experience with it because I’m not a man who will endlessly discuss her flaws all while only knowing “Blank Space,” “Shake It Off,” or “Bad Blood.”
This piece is not meant for men to jump in with opinions they can’t defend. The tendency to attack Swift without strong arguments is often rooted in a mindset that screams “man.” I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve heard cis men dismiss her, knowing only two or three viral singles and having the belief that her fan base is “crazy.”
I’m not her biggest advocate, but I won’t entertain a man dragging her through the dirt just because he lacks objectivity. Their opinion isn’t grounded in genuine critique; it’s just reflexive dislike, and I have no interest in engaging with that.
On this matter, I must say that I’m “running as fast as I can,” and it should be known that I will be getting there quicker without being a man.