Taylor, where are you? Are you okay?! Are you hurt? Legs broken? Vocal chord surgery? Brain transplant?!
Where could you possibly be that you werent marching with your fellow women on Saturday?
Taylor, you have a voice and platform. You have millions of followers on social media everything you do or say gets picked up by the press and the media and turned into a story. Every song you release is dissected to death. You leave your house for lunch and you get photographed by hundreds of paparazzi. Youre on the cover of countless magazines, everything from Vogue to Tiger Beat (yes, its still around) and your name is splashed around the world.
Little girls, adult women and everyone else in-between look up to you. You have the platform to influence, get ideas heard and spark social change. Yet, you stay quiet.
Very quiet.
We didnt hear from you much during the 2016 election. In hindsight (and as silly as it sounds) Hillary could have used your endorsementor at least an endorsement from someone in your powerful shoes. 53% of white women voted for Trumpwhich, I can presume, is also the demographic of the majority of your fan base, as well as the individuals that you cater to the most.
You have privilege. Use it.
Or at least hire someone who knows how to help you use it. Because there are a lot of women out there who are turned off by the very idea of you and your brand of feminism.
You re-modeled your appearance and public image after the boy-crazy, breakup obsessed, romantic relationship loving-notion wasnt resonating with your fans. Fuck the damsel in distress look, you said, making it clear that that was your former, much more immature self; I rescue me now.
So you did. You wrote and sang songs about having fun with your girlfriendsgoing out, dancing, not thinking about those vicious men who scorned you in the past. Youre no longer the victim of your life, you screamedYOU make the decisions! You made sure that the public knew everything about your girl squad, that oh-so-famous group of you and your good-looking gal pals, who do everything together, from baking cookies to frolicking in oceans on private islands.
You know, normal girl stuff. No longer did you walk red carpets with a man on your arm, but insteadyou brought along 8 to 10 of your closest #BFFs.
Because feminism, duh!
Oh and we cant forget all of those countless pictures you posted on social media, of you with your various famous friends – the #girlsquadeveryone from the likes of Blake Lively to various Victorias Secret Models, to even well-known (albeit extremely random) actresses like Mariska Hargitay and Uzo Aduba.
Your brand of feminism is all women should support each other. Which is great, dont get me wrong.
But, you say things that you desperately hope will make people believe you are a feminist, when your turn around and your actions then speak much louder and much differently.
Feminism is not about YOU, when you try so hard to make it out to be. You cannot pick and choose feminism when it is convenient for you. Thats not how it works. You cannot pick feminism when it helps you win Grammys, sell millions of singles, tell the world youre now single and give passionate speeches about unnamed male bullies (cough *Kanye West* cough); and then not help feminism by speaking out against Donald Trump, speaking UP for HillaryClinton, or marching and protesting against the likes of our new administration. Youre a feminist phony. A pheminist.
Then, at 2:10pm PST on Saturday, January 21, you finally tweeted something regarding the womans march:
