The Sexual Revolution (Taylor’s Version)

In 1821, Percy Shelley wrote, “Poets are the unacknowledged legislators of the world.” It’s unlikely that he was thinking of the poets of our age, sequined leotards and all. Still, it’s hard to argue that the most influential poet today, especially for young women, is anyone other than Taylor Swift.  

Swift has dominated the music charts for almost two decades, writing every single one of her over 200 songs (though at times with a bit of help). Her latest Eras Tour has broken ticket sale records everywhere, selling more than four million tickets in 60 shows and grossing over $1 billion. The fervent fanfare is about more than elaborate costumes, cheeky dance moves, and leveraging the allegiances of “Swiftie” loyalists. The biggest part is the lyrics. 

Her lyrics are so noteworthy, in fact, that more than a few universities across the U.S. and around the world offer courses to study them. While the actions of western academics do not always denote something of importance, it’s significant that there are now full semesters on Swift, just as there are on Dickens and Poe. And Swift’s cultural dominance dates to at least 2006, so there’s a longevity not typical of celebrities. Her endorsement of Kamala Harris for president immediately went viral, though its long-term impact on the election results seems negligible.  

Most notably, Taylor Swift has become the new herald of the sexual revolution. Through the years, her songs have increasingly referenced her support for LGBTQ ideology. Her concerts feel like gatherings for progressive political causes and cultural movements, complete with signs and pink genitalia hats, all adorned in glitter and friendship bracelets.  

Swift may have come onto the music scene with poppy, unrequited teenage love songs, but her music has since taken a far more cynical (though still poppy and poetic) turn against men, traditional marriage, and even her Christian upbringing. “Of course I’m pro-choice,” she has said dismissively, as if it’s a given that to be a woman is to support abortion. One of her songs describes marriage as “1950s [stuff],” and Christian women as “Sarahs and Hannahs” who judge her life choices from the comfort of a pew. Another presumes the moral high ground for emotionally cheating on her boyfriend. Her lyrics paint the good life as being carefree and fun, unencumbered by outdated ideals of religion and traditional institutions.  

It’s as if, to borrow a phrase from Narnia, her knowledge of the sexual revolution only goes so far. After all, the legacy of its bad ideas are empty promises to women, abandoned children, and men emboldened to claim women’s spaces and identities. A movement which promised “more and better sex,” liberation, and autonomy instead delivered fewer and worse sexual experiences for women, and pressure from men who were freed from expectations and consequences.  

Though Swift is certainly not alone in her pop-covered push for the wrongly named “women’s liberation,” her music is far more palatable and popular than the others. And that makes her even more effective in pushing the values of the sexual revolution and shaping our collective understanding of what it means to be a woman.  

Still, Swift’s vision is primarily reactive. A good chunk of her songs complain about what is. The biblical vision of humanity and of women is far bigger and better. Its vision of marriage is one of growth, exhorting men and women to be patient, kind, and selfless. Its picture of love is Christ’s love for the Church, a love that’s not repressive or silly or sentimental.  

Specifically, this vision asks more of women, not less. It also demands more from men and culture, in ways better for women. This vision is true and good, something we know because of what the Church has done from the beginning for women. 

If our poets truly cared for the same outcomes for women, they’d question the ideas that aren’t delivering and revisit the ones that always have.