Opinion: Taylor Swift is sending a powerful message to women on the Eras tour

My first sense of unease at Taylor Swift’s Las Vegas show hit me after the infectious beat faded from fan-favorite “Cruel Summer,” the second song in her set.

Swift strutted across the stage in a sequined bodysuit and matching boots. Her cat’s eye was sharp enough to kill a man, as she says.

She thanked the crowd of thousands of fans for their deafening support, and when the sounds died down, she paused and then shouted the line that undid me – and sent a powerful message about embracing success to the tens of thousands of fans. women present.

She shifted her gaze to her biceps and waved her arms in victory. The crowd lost. My jaw dropped. My stomach clenched and prepared for a hit.

I had just heard Swift, a woman, scream her achievement, with no reservations, “I did one thing” and not an ounce of humility to soften it. It was just an audacious and unapologetic declaration of his success.

challenging standards

When I walked into Allegiant Stadium in Las Vegas, I expected to be blown away by Swift and the 44 songs she sings live on the “Eras Tour”. But I didn’t expect to feel uncomfortable with his declaration of unbridled ambition.

The timing of his statement was a bit cheeky; was part of her introduction to the song “The Man,” which draws attention to the sexist standards women face, including ones Swift fought in the music industry.

“What’s it like to brag about raking in dollars and getting bitches and models?” she sang. “If I was spending my dollars I would be a bitch, not a player.”

When she screamed her achievement in Las Vegas, alongside a corresponding victory dance, I’m sure it was meant to evoke masculinity and highlight the double standard surrounding success, as nothing Taylor Alison Swift does is unintentional.

She’s known for leaving an endless trail of easter eggs for her fans to find and decipher, which reveal clues about things like album releases and the true meaning of a lyric.

She is the mastermind of everything she does, sings and shouts to a football stadium full of fans. Which is why, even though timing was part of her performance of “The Man,” it was also no coincidence that Swift decided to sing her hit that night.

And whether we were curling up in our seats like I was or cheering her on, just like I was, her words sent a powerful message.

I’m insecure about my own ambition

The discomfort I felt had nothing to do with Swift or her performance. My inner anguish was fueled by my own insecurities with female ambition and the social conditioning that taught me to avoid owning up to my successes. I was projecting my own disquiet onto Swift.

Intellectually, I root for ambitious women to take their place in the world, but emotionally, I have a deep resistance to the idea, as evidenced by my gut reaction.

Like Swift, who will be performing for more than three hours straight every night of this 52-stop tour, I am also an endurance athlete. I’m a long-distance trail runner, and while I’m nowhere near Taylor Swift, I’ve experienced some successes in my athletic endeavors — but I can barely talk about them in front of a single person, let alone 70,000 of them.

When I ran 50 miles a few summers ago, friends asked me how I was doing. “I had a great time,” I would say. “I felt strong all day.”

I usually expected my partner or someone else to fill in the gap that I had won the race, or I would just leave that detail out. I do this often, whether it’s my place of arrival, pace or distance.

I don’t want to be “that” woman

I don’t mean to brag or appear arrogant, competitive or, God forbid, self-promotional. That sentence alone sounds dirtier than the floor of a football stadium after a three-hour show.

I’ve seen women villain for ambition and success ever since I could say the words “Hillary Clinton”. I know that the safest path for a woman is to be humble and modest.

When I decided to attempt a speed record on the 460-mile stretch of the Oregon Pacific Crest Trail, one of the hardest parts of the race was telling people about my goal, which was a requirement for that record.

I didn’t want to come across as a strong, competitive woman who believed she was capable of achieving something big. I certainly didn’t want to look like I was chasing success, an ambitious woman with the audacity to be confident. The best story would be stumbling upon a conquest, not openly chasing it.

In my first draft of this essay, the one I didn’t initially share with my editor, I omitted that I was going to set that record – and beat the men’s times as well. (Editor’s Note: One of his most notable runs was setting the fastest known overall time on the 460-mile Oregon PCT, at 7 days, 19 hours, and 23 minutes.)

She had a powerful impact on me.

My Las Vegas uneasiness changed to admiration, followed quickly by a “Hell yeah, Taylor.”

When I got back home to Oregon, I couldn’t stop thinking about how powerful it was that Swift was so bold. It didn’t stop at that statement – ​​she gave a three-hour masterclass with confidence and pride in what she accomplished, and I enjoyed it.

I think most of us at Allegiant Stadium do. Throughout this tour, millions of women will see her share in her success.

At least one of the women in the audience needed to hear it to celebrate her own success (and probably more than I would have guessed based on my initial reaction).

I watched clips of his performance at AT&T Stadium, home of the Dallas Cowboys, the following weekend. When the beat of “Cruel Summer” faded, she did it again: “I’m the first artist to play three nights in this stadium,” she screamed.

I watched her dance, her face full of unapologetic glee as she swayed her hips in front of tens of thousands of people, and this time, I didn’t flinch. I thought about how I can be a little more like Swift the next time I’m successful.