I vividly remember the moment I became a Swiftie. I was driving down a back road with my mom late at night, our eyes peeled for deer in the darkness as we belted every word to “Mean.” We started wondering out loud what the song was about, and after a quick Wikipedia search, I eagerly analyzed the lyrics from the passenger seat.
Years later, I was on my way home from the bowling alley in the peak of summer, riding in the back seat of a convertible with my best friend. My thighs stuck to the vinyl seats in the heat as I danced to the beat of “Shake it Off” on the radio. I was shocked when I heard that the artist behind the song of the summer was none other than Taylor Swift. After that, I fell back down the Swiftian rabbit hole, rediscovering the music I had grown up listening to with my mom and doing a deep dive into the years I’d missed. The first concert I ever attended was the 1989 World Tour at Nationals Park in the summer of 2015.
Flash forward five years to when I lay crying into the darkness after listening to folklore at midnight. It was the summer of 2020, when the world and my family were simultaneously falling apart, and despite being so far removed from me and my life, Taylor’s music made me feel so incredibly seen.
Most recently, I remember dancing and sobbing and scream-singing with my best friends at The Eras Tour in 2023, a global phenomenon that still somehow felt so personal, so made for us in that moment in time. We clung to each other as we swayed back and forth to the music, feeling the power of girlhood as it swept across a stadium and believing the lyrics “I was enchanted to meet you” with every fiber of our beings.
In the fall of 2024, I took a college course on Taylor Swift. While I had looked forward to the community the class would bring me and the excuse to talk about my favorite artist for participation points, something unexpected happened that semester. The class taught me to think more critically about a figure I had idolized most of my life. We read thought-provoking articles (like this one and this one) and analyzed Swift’s musical legacy from a variety of theoretical lenses, not all of which reflected favorably on my favorite musician. I learned to take her words and actions with a grain of salt, to think more broadly about the context in which she exists and the consequences of her choices.
Then in fall 2025 Taylor Swift released The Life of Showgirl on October 3, just four days before the anniversary of October 7, 2023—a date that marks the start of the most recent iteration of the ongoing genocide in Palestine. On the album she sings about her friends being canceled and the lavish life she envisions with Travis Kelce in a tone so grotesquely out of touch with reality that I couldn’t bear to listen. Swift had long been silent on issues abroad, and although my passion for speaking up about the genocide grew stronger with each passing day, I excused her time and time again for staying silent. I told myself that the region has a long and complicated history that even I don’t fully understand, and Swift doesn’t ever comment on global politics, and a myriad of other excuses.
…although my passion for speaking up about the genocide grew stronger with each passing day, I excused her time and time again for staying silent.
But then the President of the United States sent ICE into the streets to terrorize American cities. ICE agents murdered people in the streets of Minnesota. A heartbreaking photo of five-year-old Liam Conejo Ramos, detained by ICE while wearing his bunny hat and Spiderman backpack, spread like wildfire online. And while countless other celebrities condemned this violent ripping apart of families, there was once again radio silence from my favorite pop star. In fact, during this time she only occasionally poked her head out of the sand to promote new remixes and music videos.
Swift’s silence on ICE made me realize how quiet she had become not only regarding global humanitarian crises, but on domestic issues. Despite being openly pro-Democrat in the 2018 midterms and the last two presidential elections—thereby overcoming the death grip her country star roots once held on the tenor of her political voice—she has been utterly silent in these crucial last few years for our democracy.
What changed? Well for one thing, she’s married to an NFL player with a largely conservative fan base (I mean he plays for the Kansas City Chiefs for god’s sake). Some have questioned whether Kelce’s presence in Swift’s life has encouraged her to lean into the “tradwife” aesthetic. But I think it is too much of a cop out (and frankly pretty sexist) to reduce the reasoning behind her silence to the influence of her husband. I think this was 100% a Taylor-made choice, and the reason for it is the same reason she spoke out in 2018, 2020, and 2024: Taylor Swift always adjusts. She knows how to respond to what’s going on in the world in the way that best benefits her. When she decided that speaking up had once again become too threatening to the insanely illustrious career she has built for herself, she stopped.
Taylor Swift always adjusts. She knows how to respond to what’s going on in the world in the way that best benefits her.
But honestly? I don’t think that threat is as real as she might think. Some of her contemporaries have made it very clear where they stand on these issues. Gracie Abrams and Maisie Peters both spoke out condemning ICE (and both notably opened for Swift on the Eras Tour). Hozier, The Weeknd, Lorde, and Olivia Rodrigo have all spoken out in support of Palestine, with Rodrigo even contributing a song to the charity album HELP (2). Its proceeds will go exclusively toward helping children in Gaza. None of these artists have had their careers ruined or their fanbases dismantled as a result of their choice to speak up. In fact, in many cases it has earned them more respect and admiration from fans.
This is why in January 2026, I stopped listening to Taylor Swift. Because it got to the point where the art was inextricably connected to my utter disappointment in the artist. I couldn’t listen to a single song without being frustrated and let down by her inability to use her platform to speak up about the ongoing atrocities in the world.
This isn’t to say I’m a moral absolutist—I still hum along when I hear her in the grocery store, and I considered it a good omen when she played in the lobby right before my wisdom tooth surgery (OUCH by the way). But I have made the conscious effort to stop streaming her songs, stop posting about her, stop wearing her merchandise, and stop giving her my money.
I understand that Taylor, like all musicians and celebrities, is human. She’s not always going to get everything right. In fact, odds are she would have messed up even if she had spoken out on the issues I’ve mentioned. But here’s the thing: she could have tried. She could have done something, anything to condemn the horrible crimes that are being committed, both abroad and at home. It’s clear that Swift possesses the power to incite change with her words—voter registrations for young people skyrocketed in 2018 and 2023 after the superstar posted on Instagram encouraging people to vote.
But here’s the thing: she could have tried.
Trying matters. Speaking up matters. Having conversations even though they might be difficult, and even though you might mess something up, matters. This is true in our everyday lives, and it is a standard that I believe we can and must hold celebrated figures to as well.
I still hold out hope that one day Taylor will speak up or make an effort—at least to the point that I can let her music back into my life and my heart. But for now, I’ll continue to devote my time, energy, and money to other artists: artists whose music I can enjoy and feel connected to while simultaneously respecting their courage to say something when it matters most.
