Maia Wilson
“But I’m not a bad bitch, and this isn’t savage” are words no one thought would come out of famed pop star and renowned lyricist Taylor Swift’s mouth before Oct. 3. Unfortunately, these are real lyrics sung by Taylor in her newest album “The Life of a Showgirl,” along with other travesties — or rather, TRAVIS-ties — like rhyming “Kitty” with “pretty,” “witty,” “city” and “legitly” in the titular song.
Her latest project is shockingly not written by ChatGPT. The singer claims she wrote all of the lyrics herself alongside producers Max Martin and Shellback. However, since the release of promotional videos for her album last week, Taylor has been accused of using AI to generate the visuals for her orange door scavenger hunt. In one clip that can be accessed by QR code, the design of a miniature carousel glitches on screen, the waiter’s hand appears to pass through a napkin and Taylor’s artistic integrity vanishes. The irony? The pop star has previously condemned AI-generated art through an Instagram post criticizing President Trump’s use of an AI image of her to endorse his 2024 campaign.
The decline of Taylor’s morals isn’t the only failure of the album and has made her hypocrisy impossible to ignore.
Taylor’s music sold out stadiums because she was relatable to the public. She was the girl next door: average, safe and digestible as she sang earnest tales of young love and heartbreak. But that innocence is gone as it has become evident she is an out-of-touch billionaire. And, worse, a millennial.
With “The Life of a Showgirl,” fans were expecting to get a glimpse of the reality backstage as she reflected on the end of the Eras tour and the not so glamorous life of a showgirl. Instead, she gave us an album-length love letter to her NFL fiance Travis Kelce, particularly his wood — ahem “manhood” — in a track quite literally titled “Wood.” Since it seems the album was made for him, her literary references — namely a limp nod to Ophelia from “Hamlet” — feel dumbed down for poor Travis, whose concussions seem to have been transmitted to Taylor via their skin to skin contact. Ironically, her songs about Travis are the least bothersome, because wanting to be tossed around by a 6’5″ man is the most relatable part of her album.
Other pieces of the record are of greater concern. Taylor famously prides herself on her lyricism, but if every verse is supposedly “intentional” and “poetic,” it is worth listening to what her words actually say. In “CANCELLED!” Taylor sings “Good thing I like my friends cancelled / I like ’em cloaked in Gucci and in scandal.” I don’t think flaunting wealth is an appropriate response to public criticism. People are dying, Taylor. Yet the celebrity remains insulated in her bubble of luxury.
As she mentions in her track “Wi$h Li$t,” she wants to be left “the fuck” alone to raise a family. To be clear, there is nothing wrong with wanting to settle down and have children, especially away from public scrutiny. However, the language Taylor uses in the song reveals deeper problems. When she sings “Have a couple kids, got the whole block looking like you,” it’s tone-deaf at best. She could’ve said “house” or even “flock” to describe her white-picket fantasy but no — apparently the entire block must look like Travis, a stereotypical athletic white man.
Taylor amplifies similar racial rhetoric in “Elizabeth Taylor,” declaring, “All my white diamonds and lovers are forever.” The emphasis on “white” is as unnecessary as it is revealing — diamonds already imply clarity. But Taylor insists on the symbolism, reminding her fans once again that nothing in her lyrics is accidental.
Taylor’s hypocrisy extends beyond her wealth and privilege. She positioned herself as a social advocate after becoming more vocal on political issues following the release of her personal documentary in 2020. She once tweeted in support of racial justice and women’s rights, but now her lyricism undermines her darling image as “Miss Americana” as it seems her allegiance to her own values has shifted.
In the opening track “The Fate of Ophelia,” she sings about how Travis’ love saved her from a disastrous fate, crooning to him “Pledge allegiance to your hands, your team, your vibes.” What are the vibes she speaks of? Perhaps red, white and blue ones, or maybe just whatever colors match her latest PR strategy. Whether she’s trying to fit in with the other NFL WAGs like Brittany Mahomes or nodding to Travis and his brother Jason’s “New Heights” podcast, her priorities have changed from ideals to image. Even her social circle now seems at odds with the progressive values she claimed to stand for.
The contradictions continue as Taylor portrays herself as a perpetual victim despite her superstardom. She is a tortured genius, suffering from a “terminal uniqueness” that she sings of in her token sad track 5 “Eldest Daughter.” She is “dying from just trying to seem cool,” which is probably why she felt the need to incorporate slang into the lyrics of the same song: “So we all dressed up as wolves and we looked fire.” In “The Fate of Ophelia,” Taylor also sings “Keep it one hundred on the land” — a reference to Travis and Taylor’s motto, ‘Keep it 100’ because his jersey number 87 + her favorite number 13 = 100, duh. The phrase “Keep it one hundred” has a deeper history rooted in African American culture, far more important than their short romance.
Taylor’s hypocrisy peaks in this use of African American Vernacular English as she pilfers cultural phrases while incorporating subtly racist digs into her lyrics. In “Opalite,” she seemingly sings about Travis’ ex, Kayla Nicole, a Black influencer by saying “You were in it for real / She was in her phone / And you were just a pose.” She follows that with the chorus: “Sleepless in the onyx night / But now, the sky is opalite,” referring to Travis’ transition from his relationship with Kayla to his engagement to Taylor. And yes, you guessed it! Onyx is black and opalite is a white – might I add artificial – birthstone.
A similar incongruity emerges between Taylor’s subliminal messaging in this album and her public image. Taylor is known for donating to sexual assault survivors and supporting her female friends during difficult times, particularly gifting $250,000 to Kesha amid her sexual assault case against producer Dr. Luke. Yet Taylor’s feminist branding is undermined by her own verses.
In “Honey,” I initially thought she was critiquing the patronizing way women are called “sweetheart” or “honey” by men. But on closer listen, she’s mocking other women. She recalls being called “honey” by a “bitch” warning her to “back off” because her boyfriend had looked at Taylor “wrong,” and by another woman in the bathroom saying her skirt didn’t fit. Instead of reclaiming the word from sexist men, Taylor positions herself as the victim and other women as petty and jealous.
Taylor continues to diss other women in “Actually Romantic,” her alleged response to Charli XCX’s hit “Sympathy is a knife.” Charli’s track vulnerably explored female rivalry and insecurity of being in the orbit of a more successful popstar, rumored to be Taylor Swift. The two artists crossed paths while Taylor was dating The 1975 singer Matty Healy at the same time Charli was dating his band member George Daniel. Taylor had an opportunity to meet Charli’s honesty with empathy on her own record. Instead, she sings, “I heard you call me ‘Boring Barbie’ when the coke’s got you brave.” She even compares Charli to a “toy chihuahua barking at me from a tiny purse.” But, despite her immaturity, we should give Taylor the benefit of the doubt. She’s only 35 and just learned she can swear and have sex now. She’ll get to coke in a few years once she moves past singing about high school.
As she admits in “Father Figure,” “This love is pure profit” and we can tell. The whole album feels like a cash grab she doesn’t even need. “The Life of a Showgirl” is really about the life of a billionaire, an image that collapses under its own contradictions.
She has every right to enjoy her success with her man, but she markets herself as a feminist without practicing what she preaches, tearing down other women. She brands herself as an intentional lyricist but delivers tone-deaf, racially charged verses. She once stood for sincerity and self-awareness, although now it seems she has turned to A.I. generated authenticity.
If you want to enjoy any of these songs, I recommend returning to the “showgirl era” Taylor sings about and getting a lobotomy. You require Swiftie levels of delusion to have the cognitive dissonance necessary to ignore the problematic lyrics.
With this album, Taylor sells the glittering illusion of empowerment, riddled with borderline racist and misogynistic undertones. Wrapped in feathers and sequins, the showgirl delivers a dazzling performance in performative activism. But I suppose that’s show business, right?