As the freedom flotilla made its way towards Gaza in October, a former Taylor Swift fan posted on Threads that Swift is so wealthy she could have sent her own flotilla to break the siege and deliver aid. Other fans responded that this is not Swift’s job: she’s a pop star, not a politician; she should be allowed to make music, bring joy, and stay silent about the many injustices on our burning planet. When Swift’s new album dropped, and some accused her of completely misreading the room (in ‘Wi$h Li$t’ she says that she just wants to be ‘left the fuck alone’ in her domestic bubble), others responded by saying that joy is resistance.

Sure, joy *can *be resistance in the face of oppression. But if you are a billionaire, joy is probably just dissociation enabled by your proximity to money and power. When it is not accompanied by any other form of resistance (and when it only exists alongside a deafening silence), joy looks a lot like complicity.

These online exchanges point to a broader discourse that has been unfolding since the 2020 release of Swift’s documentary Miss Americana*.* In the film, Swift addresses the misogyny she has been exposed to as a public figure (and as a young woman), and reflects on how this has made her find her political voice. She links her vulnerability and the violence she has experienced (she has had multiple stalkers, and experienced extreme levels of online harassment) to her journey of empowerment through liberal politics. In the film she decides to ask her fans to register to vote, speaks out on LGBTQI+ rights, and talks passionately about the importance of legal protections against domestic violence and stalking.

It’s all very vanilla as far as political activism is concerned. But the overall vibe of the film is that this is a star who wants to do good, and who wants to ally herself to progressive causes. In a scene towards the end of the film, Swift talks to LGBTQI+ icons during a shoot for her music video and says that she is on their side. She is committed: ‘If you have anything I can help you with, just let me know. Literally, just call me for anything, [be]cause you do so many good things for people.’

Since then, Swift has spoken out against Trump (who has also spoken out against her), asked her fans to register to vote during crucial US state elections, and, ahead of the US presidential election last year, endorsed Kamala Harris. While such ‘activism’ is hardly revolutionary (and many have been sceptical of it since the first time she dropped a rainbow emoji in an insta post), it was something.

However, since the start of Trump’s second term, Swift has remained silent: as ICE kidnapped students and workers off the streets; as thousands were deported without due process; as women’s rights and reproductive freedom got slashed; and as the US government resorted to increasingly authoritarian measures to suppress dissent amongst its own citizens. She has also remained silent on the genocide in Gaza, despite growing pressure from fans to (at the very least) issue a statement of solidarity.

More recently, after the release of her latest album, Swift’s silence became quite loud. When the White House chose her song ‘The Fate of Ophelia’ as the soundtrack for a short video celebrating the ‘fate of America’ with a caption that read ‘OUR VIBES’ (US flag emoji), Swift (unlike other pop stars who had found themselves in a similar situation) did not issue a cease and desist, nor did she publicly voice her opposition to the use of the song. For a star who uses a wide range of legal tools to ensure that small creators are not producing any merch drawing on her work (in 2015, her legal team issued a cease and desist against an Etsy seller for printing the words from her song ‘Shake It Off’ on items like t-shirts and candles, a cease and desist that was recently dismissed), her implicit permission for the Trump White House to use her song seems like a *choice. *This particular silence sounds like political realignment. And social media seems to have noticed as much.

It is important to note at this point that according to a GUDEA report obtained by Rolling Stone in December of this year, some of the conversations on social media about Swift’s recent conservative turn were bot-initiated, supposedly to damage the singer’s reputation online. However, the report’s methodology is spotty: it is unclear where GUDEA got its data from, how this data was collected and analysed, and what was used to determine that an account was a ‘bot account’. While the allegations set out in the report are plausible, neither the report nor the Rolling Stone article reflect on the fact that there has been a shift in Swift’s approach to politics.

Girl Boss to Trad Wife

So, how is this shift to be understood? As thegirl boss of her generation, Swift has consistently sold the core liberal feminist idea that choice is empowerment. Importantly, in the liberal feminist framing, it is the *act *of choosing that signals freedom and equality, regardless of the substantive choice that one is making. The choices Swift was interested in (during her Miss Americana era) are conveniently listed in her song ‘The Man’, and include: being a boss, being a fearless leader, being recognised for her ‘ideas and power moves’.

It is all very ‘lean-in’ feminist: true emancipation and empowerment come from women’s equal participation in capitalism. With The Life of a Showgirl (Swift’s most recent album), the choices are more MAGA-coded: a white picket fence and a block of children who all look like her fiancé (such language sits uneasily in an album containing songs with problematic racial undertones). This apparent shift from girl boss to trad wife in a vision of a fulfilled life is possible precisely because Swift’s feminism is underpinned by the idea that empowerment is rooted in the act of making a choice: any choice.

Yet, what this ignores is the fact that choice is not a commodity equally available to all. The spectrum of choice, as black, Marxist, postcolonial, and abolitionist feminists have already taught us, is bound up with class, race, sexuality, and many other characteristics which sustain social hierarchies in society.

It is not incidental that many trad wives are incredibly wealthy: access to capital (financial, social, cultural) enables these women to lead a ‘slow’ life. Further, their ability to then sell this unattainable lifestyle allows them to maintain it. Their lifestyle, their values, their politics are all a part of an accumulation strategy. Similarly to how girl-boss feminism sells women the idea that exploitation through labour is empowering, trad-wife feminism sells women the idea that being a full-time wife and mother is the highest form of emancipation there is, or even a form of escapism. The irony is that none of the well-known trad wives are actually full-time wives and mothers: they are all also content creators; evanescent merchants of vibes.

Importantly however, it is not only vibes and ideas that particular brands of feminism are selling. Instead, different strands of liberal feminism promise women empowerment through production (labour) and consumption (the buying of things). They encourage women to consume: from beauty and lifestyle products which help women appear as perfectly gendered subjects; to home appliances; homeschooling programs and bible classes. Moreover, shifts between different feminisms enable *continued *consumption and accumulation as power-suits are replaced by butter churners.

A historical example: after (some) women gained workplace equality in the 1980s, the ‘dress-for-success’ outfit became a hit: women were told empowerment lay in embracing menswear. However, after a plunge in profits in the fashion industry, the death of the ‘sexless’ suit was announced, and women were encouraged to embrace their femininity. Empowerment in the 1990s then lay in embracing one’s sexiness; and emancipation could be found inside a corset.

Vibes-Only Politics

Swift’s political shifts can then similarly be understood as a part of an accumulation strategy. The release of *The Life of a Showgirl *was preceded by multiple drops of merch, some exclusively at Target (despite the ongoing boycott of the chain because of the removal of all DEI policies they had in place). Since the album’s announcement, multiple ‘versions’ were announced, many available for as short a time as 24 hours, generating scarcity to further drive up consumption. Being a true ‘swiftie’ is then a costly endeavour, a thing that can only be achieved if one is willing (and able) to drop hundreds of dollars/pounds/euros on cardigans, CDs and multiple versions of vinyl. Those willing (and able) are generally white, middle-class women, who are, coincidentally also the most capital-C conservative group of women in the US.

Further, the reason Swift’s latest political shift has not alienated more of her fanbase is that even those who identified with her *Miss Americana *girl-boss era generally have a quintessentially liberal approach to politics. For many, political disagreements are merely a difference of opinion that one can gloss over, and politics exists in the realm of values and ideas with no – or very little – material impact on people’s lives.

According to this view of politics, transphobia is a twitter discourse and not the reason that trans people are disproportionately subjected to violence; misogyny is a thing bad men do, and not a system of subjugation that one cannot simply or easily girl-power her way through; and racism is prejudice, and not a reason for and a consequence of racialised exploitation which forms the basis of capital accumulation. This notion of politics as a vibes-only endeavour is what enables people to be friends with – or fan-girl over – people whose politics are radically different to their own. It is also only possible if one is shielded from the violence of capitalism, and therefore from the material effects of the conservative agenda.

This idealist understanding of politics also means that, for many fans, Swift is a relatable figure whose interests are broadly aligned with their own, a feat which has been achieved through an elaborate PR and engagement strategy. To her fans, her billionaire status then makes Swift an inspiration, not a part of the problem; and anyone who implies otherwise must just be a misogynist who can’t stand to see a #girlboss win.

Part of the mythology, which was particularly neatly packaged in Miss Americana, is that *any *criticism of Swift is because she is a woman, and therefore unfounded and illegitimate. Criticising Swift *is *patriarchy, and criticising Swift’s choices – whether to girl-boss or trad-wife her way through life – is being a bad feminist. Expecting Swift to do anything (whether condemn genocide or post a link to a bail fund) is, according to swiftie-feminist logic, having higher expectations of her than of other celebrities, because she is a woman. The only way to be a swiftie-feminist then, is to be uncritically supportive; and since the relationship between Swift and her fans is mediated through money, the only way to be a good swiftie-feminist is to spend money. Swift’s brand of feminism is, then, a process which ensures that all versions of her albums are sold, and that going into debt to attend a concert feels like girl power.

However, as her fans themselves lose access to healthcare, housing, and basic civil liberties, while Swift maintains the rights and freedoms guaranteed to her by her wealth, it is becoming increasingly clear to some fans that Swift’s interests and their own might not be entirely aligned. Swift’s privilege is tied to her wealth, making the protection of her wealth imperative; and since the protection of private property is the primary function of the capitalist state, survival of the state (in its current form) is necessary for the protection of her wealth. She is then deeply invested (both literally and figuratively) in the maintenance of the political status quo. The status quo that is dispossessing and disenfranchising many of her fans.

When liberal politics seemed like it could oppose the conservative agenda while protecting the status quo, Swift could comfortably align herself with progressive causes without risking her considerable wealth. However, as it becomes increasingly clear that liberalism cannot effectively oppose the far-right, and as progressive politics consequently shifts towards direct action and away from electoral politics (towards revolution and away from reform), support for progressive causes becomes at odds with the survival of the status quo, and of Swift’s own billionaire status.

Swift’s political shift can then be understood both as a way of appealing to a different fan (and consumer) base, and as a way for her to hedge her bets as we witness a re-shuffle of the political elite in the US. Maybe she really does want a white picket fence and a dozen children, or maybe she just doesn’t want a real redistribution of wealth. Either way, at its very core, her brand of billionaire feminism means that she gets to have whatever she wants, and the rest of us get to cheer her on for the choices she is making. Even if they entail our oppression. Even if they are made possible by our exploitation.