“Ew, I hate pop music.”
You hear it all the time, a casual line thrown around as a subtle flex — and lately, it has been becoming weirdly trendy to say. The “anti-pop” phenomenon has gained a lot of traction, especially on platforms like TikTok and in certain corners of Reddit, where people love to argue that pop music only consists of “like three chords” and that every song “sounds the same.”
To be clear, disliking pop isn’t inherently wrong. Music taste is personal, and not every genre is for everyone. But the way people quickly and confidently dismiss pop, with a little side-eyed superiority, definitely deserves a closer look. Because most of the time, it’s not actually about the music. It’s about what society has taught us to take seriously, and who gets to decide. And yes, it really is that deep.
What We Call ‘Serious’
We may not realize it, but we have been taught to measure “seriousness” or high-level thinking by complexity. But we pick and choose when to use that rule. A modern painting with two bold strokes? People call it genius, abstract, and provocative. A Taylor Swift song that tells a complete story in under four minutes? Overplayed. Basic. Shallow. We forget that pop music is crafted with intention, too — every lyric, beat, and key change matters. Both are forms of art, vessels of expression. The only real difference is that one gets praised for being “thoughtful,” while the other gets dismissed as trivial.
Pop is more than a genre of music; it’s a community and a form of expression. For many women and LGBTQ+ listeners, pop music has been one of the few places where emotion, identity, and self-expression are not only accepted but also celebrated. It creates space for community. Artists like Sabrina Carpenter have even pointed this out directly, emphasizing how deeply pop is shaped by and connected to queer audiences, so much so that she argues it wouldn’t exist in the same way without them.
And maybe that’s part of the reason it gets dismissed so quickly. Pop fandoms show that music isn’t just listened to, but lived as well. It is loud and emotional — people screaming lyrics at concerts, dancing around their bedrooms, sharing covers and fan art. It’s not quiet or detached or “serious” in the traditional sense, but instead fun and felt. And historically, anything that centers those kinds of experiences, especially for women and queer people, tends to be written off as less important.
Taylor Swift, Examined
Pop fandom and the stigma around it tell us a lot about who gets to be visible, who gets celebrated, and who gets dismissed. And no example illustrates that better than Taylor Swift and her fans. Swifties are one of the clearest cases of how society demonizes young women for their interests simply because they’re popular. The passion, the lyrics, the concerts, the online communities — it’s all treated as obsessive or shallow. Meanwhile, similar behavior in male-dominated spaces like rock bands, sports, and even certain corners of hip-hop is framed as dedication or expertise.
Media scholar Suzanne Scott explains why, pointing out that the interests of young women are consistently trivialized, even when they mirror behaviors that are normalized elsewhere. Swift’s fandom is a lightning rod for criticism because it’s female, emotional, and unapologetically massive. Men and boys often get to enjoy their obsessions without ridicule — but when young women do the same, suddenly it’s worth mocking. Swift’s popularity, in other words, isn’t just about music; it’s about a cultural fear of girls claiming space, being loud, and being taken seriously.
Scott also mentions that the policing of women isn’t always external. Female fans often participate in it themselves, saying things like, “I don’t like Taylor Swift,” with a certain edge, signaling that they’re not “just another fan.” It reflects the same impulse behind the “not like other girls” mentality: the belief that to be taken seriously, you have to distance yourself from interests culturally recognized as “feminine.”
In reality, this distance just separates these girls from other women, reinforcing the same hierarchy that devalues what’s feminine in the first place.
This pattern isn’t new. Culture has a long history of dismissing what girls and women love. The moment something becomes associated with young women, it often loses credibility. Pop fandom today follows the same rules: it’s loud, emotional, and communal — and that makes it an easy target for dismissal.
The problem isn’t the music or the obsession; it’s the culture, past and present, that says women’s enthusiasm is somehow less worthy.
Boy Bands & Barbies
Think about something like a Harry Styles Barbie doll. Yes, I had one. Yes, he sang “What Makes You Beautiful” with the push of a button. Yes, it was amazing. But this isn’t really about Styles. While female pop artists, like Swift, get judged all the time, they’re not the only ones who catch heat. As one writer for The Waltonian points out, anything aimed at a mostly female audience tends to get dismissed as childish or silly.
Meanwhile, if a guy is collecting vinyl records or rare band merch, he is viewed as “dedicated.” A Harry Styles Barbie and a limited-edition vinyl are basically the same thing: collectibles made for fans who love music. The difference? One’s coded as feminine, the other as neutral or masculine. It’s not about the music, it’s about who’s enjoying it.
Hating pop music doesn’t make you deep. It just makes you predictable. It’s easy to forget that behind every hit, fandom, and screaming crowd at a concert, there’s a community full of people finding themselves, expressing themselves, and sharing joy. What gets dismissed so quickly often isn’t the music at all; it’s the culture, identity, and pride that comes with it. It’s not about defending pop or proving anyone wrong. It’s about noticing what we’ve been taught to take seriously, and asking ourselves why.