more Taylor Swift hate
am I not a Swiftie because of Beyoncé... or because America has a problem?
I wrote this before yesterday’s Usher concert and Beyoncé halftime show. Wait, that wasn’t it. I wrote this before Taylor jetted from Japan to make it to Vegas for that big sports game. Either way, given both Bey and Taylor remained a part of the conversation — still hitting send.
[on my mind…]
Taylor-Got-Damn-Swift. Before I continue, I’m not here to deny her talent as a songwriter. And hey, the girl has had some bops. I mean, who can deny Shake It Off’s chokehold on the summer of ‘14? However, hits aside, I’ve always found it difficult to root for Taylor. I figured it was the self-deprecating shtick or the fact that at damn near 35, she still comes across like a teenager. However, I finally understand what my issue is: Taylor is my constant reminder of the different yardsticks between white and Black creators.
This realization should’ve hit me square in the face last year. For some reason, Taylor kept being lumped into the same category as Beyoncé. On the one hand, sure, this grouping made sense given both artists were on world tours, both releasing films, and both single-handedly boosting the American economy. But I also have two ears and enough of a pulse to understand that what Bey gifted the world with Renaissance couldn’t be replicated by any human, no matter the shade. Bey’s loss of Album of the Year (AOTY) to Harry Styles (ARE YOU KIDDING ME?) was the kicker. Was it just me or was Black Excellence constantly competing — and losing out to — white mediocrity?
Yet, afraid to be a public hater, I stayed in my corner, watching with continued confusion as the Swifties justified her “greatness.”
Fast forward to this year’s Grammys and Taylor winning AOTY. An annoying new album plug followed by a ridiculous snub of THEE Celine Dion, and I couldn’t help but whisper once again, why are y’all so obsessed with her?
Then I came across a hot take from Jasmine, a dope ass creator on TikTok, who summed it up perfectly by first bringing up Simone Biles. In 2019, the International Gymnastics Federation (FIG) updated its rating system— essentially discounting the difficult moves Biles had been executing flawlessly. She was in a league of her own and their decision was effectively “leveling the playing field”— ensuring that Black Ass Biles didn’t eat up all the wins.
Now, how does that relate to Taylor/Bey? Well, Jasmine goes on to say—
If they gave Album of the Year to somebody like Beyoncé, if they gave Album of the Year to somebody like SZA, FUCK, if they had given it to somebody like Lana del Rey— that would’ve set a precedent for talent that is not easily replicable by Taylor Swift and the other artists that they sign into the industry that are nothing but mini Taylor Swifts.
Mic drop.
I’ll never forget Adele going up on stage after winning AOTY for 25. To be clear, Adele, one of my favorite artists, is the exact opposite of mediocre. But 25 was no Lemonade. Which is likely why, upon winning, she spent half her speech talking about Bey’s influence on fans, music, and other artists.
I can’t possibly accept this award, and I’m very humbled and very grateful and gracious but my life is Beyoncé, and the album to me, the Lemonade album, Beyoncé, was so monumental, and so well thought out. And so beautiful and soul-bearing and we all got to see another side of you that you don't always let us see, and we appreciate that. And all us artists adore you. You are our light. — Adele on Beyoncé
Which brings me back to Taylor, who rather smartly thanked the Academy this year for voting for her. Indeed, that is who she must thank: an institution of [mostly white] music critics who have publicly gone on record to say they haven’t voted for Beyoncé for certain categories because she “always wins.” A voting constituency that feels more comfortable giving out AOTY based on public opinion than artistic excellence.
And just like that, the yardstick changes.
In one of my first conversations with my creative coach, she played back my own challenges with perfectionism. She then asked me where it came from. I thought back, not fully sure. As long as I could remember, I strived for greatness — school, work, relationships, and now whatever I was doing creatively. Then, this lovely white woman kindly offered me a nuanced take: perhaps part of the pressures of being a double minority spilled over into my creative life. Subconsciously, I didn’t think I had a right to take up space unless I was the GOAT.
She was on to something. As far as I could tell, by the time a Creator of Color appears on my For You page— they are Bey, Biles, or Barack-level finessed. So what does that tell me? I must be excellent to pursue my artistic calling. And even then, *Kanye shrug* on whether I’ll receive my due credit.
But let’s be clear. The problem was never Beyoncé, Biles, or Barack and their excellence. Nor was it Styles or T-Swift and their, gasp, mediocrity. The problem is America, a country that has historically required Black people to be far above average before they are considered for positions, awards, glory of any kind. My sweet America that loves to dangle the metaphorical carrot in front of the black person’s face, taunting us to “dance negro dance”— right before crunching down on it with more gall than Bugs Bunny. Thus, it is the conditioning of being a black person in America that has tricked and trauma’d me into believing Black mediocrity doesn’t have a right to play, be seen, or offer the world its gifts.
There are huge risks to believing that as a creative*. Namely, what we lose if we continue to tell ourselves we must be excellent to play the game. For it is only by showing up for our creative practice that we get better. Only by giving ourselves license to experiment publicly do we figure out what hits. Only by allowing ourselves to be a work in progress do we start to unapologetically take up space.
Instead of Taylor being a sign that white mediocrity is a threat to Black Excellence, I’m letting her be my reminder that even mediocrity can connect, sell, and be praised. Sure, the measuring tool isn’t the same between white and Black creators, but if I shift my goalpost so it’s less about wins and more about consistent efforts— I give myself a shot at being pretty damn good.
Last night, Beyoncé broke the internet once again with her announcement of Act II, her forthcoming country album. There will be many things to write and say about Bey taking on yet another genre for what will be her 8th studio album, but for now, I’m just thankful to be on this planet at the same time as that Texan Bama.
All the love.
*If you are a living being, you are a creative
[on knowing your worth…]
“I need to see my own beauty and to continue to be reminded that I am enough, that I am worthy of love without effort, that I am beautiful, that the texture of my hair and that the shape of my curves, the size of my lips, the color of my skin, and the feelings that I have are all worthy and okay.” — Tracee Ellis Ross
“Your value doesn’t decrease based on someone’s inability to see your worth.” — Tamera Mowry-Housley
“Embrace what makes you unique, even if it makes others uncomfortable. I didn't have to become perfect because I've learned throughout my journey that perfection is the enemy of greatness.” — Janelle Monáe
“I found that every time I asked permission, the answer tended to be no so I had to make my own yes.” — Issa Rae
“Ain’t got time to waste, I got art to make, I got love to create. On this holy night, they won’t dim my light, all these years I fight.” —Beyoncé, 16 Carriages
[on repeat…]
No surprises here.
Oh, you NAILED it. Thank you for giving words to the feeling I have not been able to smartly articulate (and haven't given much space to, lest being accused of being a hater). But, yeah, no. Lol.
Loved this!