Ever since I was a little girl, I have been a “Swiftie.”
My older sister, Catie, was my idol. She loved Taylor Swift—so I loved Taylor Swift too.
Her music became a shared interest for sisters with such starkly different personalities. It was something we could always bond over.
When I listen to her old albums like Taylor Swift or Speak Now, I am transported back to when we would sing and dance to her songs, the whole house flooded with music and laughter. Our parents were just glad we were tiring ourselves out.
When I hear “The Best Day,” I think about coming home from school just sobbing because my friends were apparently no longer my friends. Catie, being the hero she is, jumped into action. I could not tell you what teenage drama was happening in my life, but I do remember my sister making it better.
When I moved three hours away for school at eighteen and suddenly felt so small, the album Midnights was released. The only thing that brought me comfort was talking about the album with Catie.
When I went through my first heartbreak at 19, the only thing that verbalized how I felt was the album The Tortured Poets Department.
My point is, no matter what I am feeling or going through, there has always been a Taylor Swift song to help me through it.
For me, her songs are not just pop hits; they are memories. They are the soundtrack of car rides with my sister, of laughter echoing through our shared bedroom, of every moment when life felt uncertain, but music made it better. Every lyric, every album, feels like a thread connecting who I was to who I am now.
So when I say, “I am excited for Taylor Swift’s new album,” and I am met with the response, “Who the f*ck cares?” (true story, by the way) I am, in fact, going to think you are a hateful person.
Now, let me be clear: I am in no way saying that anyone has to like Taylor Swift or any of her songs. But tearing someone down for experiencing joy is an insane concept to me.
I constantly have people trying to discuss the Philadelphia Eagles with me, even though I do not care about a single sports team. Yet I have never made someone else feel negatively about watching a game.
In fact, I’m glad sports give people a sense of belonging and fun.
Meanwhile, I am constantly met with criticism for being a fan of Swift’s music. I am deemed a “crazy fangirl” for knowing almost all her songs, but when people scream at their TVs or start throwing things when their team is losing, they are simply called ‘passionate.’
I am not sure if this is due to misogyny or just a lack of kindness in the world, but I am over it.
I used to hide the fact that I listened to Taylor Swift out of fear of being ridiculed, but I refuse to feel bad about something that means so much to me and harms no one.
Now, I use her name as a sort of test. I tell people I have always been a huge fan of hers and wait for their reaction.
When I am met with an eye roll or a negative response meant to make me feel bad about myself, I make a note not to become close with that person.
Some may find this extreme, but I find it to be a time-saver. I cannot foster a relationship with someone who makes me feel small.
So while I may not know what the next era of my life looks like, I know I’ll have a Taylor Swift song (and my sister) to help me through it. And if that makes people mad, so be it.
Life is too short to apologize for joy.
