One Direction polluted my 13-year-old life like an infection.
My hormone-riddled teenage obsession fueled the creation of several fan accounts on platforms like Twitter, Instagram and Tumblr. At a certain point, I even ran an account that had amassed 13,000 followers. I bled the British Union Jack before I understood British politics or anything more complex than my hots for the British and Irish boyband and their bubble-gum pop music.
When the boys — Harry Styles, Niall Horan, Zayn Malik, Liam Payne and Louis Tomlinson (in order of my preference) — cried, I cried. When they struggled, so did I. But mostly, when they made mistakes unbecoming of their role model image, I dutifully took it upon myself to defend them from criticism.
At the time, being a Directioner was the only religion I believed in and I bought in like they were irresistibly charming televangelists. My devotion to One Direction came without question. Why would I question the boys and their devotion to their fans? Just like the countless other millions of girls across the world, I put my blood, sweat and tears into free marketing that bolstered their wildly successful careers and I thought that made me special. Ultimately, there was no need to question figures in my life that brought me such joy and a sense of identity— until they no longer did.
The parasocial relationship timer ran out when my sense of identity sharpened around 15. Through all of these hyper-online spaces, there was a social and political radicalization that happened — I slowly began to understand that the band I loved so much was a business. They profited off of my undying support and when they exhibited morally questionable behavior like saying the N-word on camera — there would never really be any public
accountability even if I demanded it. I grew up at a specific time in the digital era when an infamous Tumblr account called "Your Fave Is Problematic," would compile a list of dirty laundry about a celebrity that could include culture appropriation, homophobia or something as serious as alleged sexual assault.
While the account kickstarted the concept of cancel culture in fandoms, it also paved the way for me to understand that sometimes celebrities are not who we build them up to be in our imaginative heads. When reality hits and fantasy fades, it's a blow to your carefully crafted narrative. Recently, Taylor Swift's fans — Swifties — have felt a sense of the parasocial relationship rug being pulled right from under them. The billionaire pop star is known to have an intimate relationship with her fans. I saw Swift's charisma at work in person last year at the Eras Tour show in New Jersey. She uses warm language and always talks about her fans as a "we." This close relationship has allowed Swift's fans to feel like they know her, her values and most importantly, where she politically stands. It was a shock to the system to learn that maybe Swift's politics are a little more murky or circumstantial than what her fans thought.
Swift's long-standing liberal values and politics have been questioned because of a controversy surrounding her friendship with Brittany Mahomes, the wife of Kansas City Chiefs quarterback Patrick Mahomes. The friendship started after Swift began dating Chiefs tight end Travis Kelce last year. Fans only took issue when Mahomes was caught liking Donald Trump's post on Instagram. Even Trump called out Mahomes for her support of him on Truth Social, writing, "I want to thank beautiful Brittany Mahomes for so strongly defending me, and the fact that MAGA is the greatest and most powerful Political Movement in the History of our now Failing Country."
The friends, who were allegedly being distanced because of Swift's liberal views, were seen warmly hugging at the U.S. Open Men's Final. The photographs of the hug were circulated online, leading to fans and critics commenting on how Swift often remains silent on her political views. One fan tweeted: "I don’t expect a billionaire to lead the revolution or anything, I’m just confused as to why one would make a movie about standing up for what’s right at any cost only to literally never stand for anything again."
While her fans were melting down, demanding accountability, Swift and her team were shaping an endorsement for Vice President Kamala Harris that Democrats had been waiting for for the last year. Swift quieted the noise when she posted the statement to her Instagram directly after the first debate with Trump and Harris on Tuesday. In a photo with her cat — a dig at Sen. JD Vance's comment on "childless cat ladies" — Swift stated, "I need to be very transparent about my actual plans for this election as a voter. The simplest way to combat misinformation is with the truth. I will be casting my vote for Kamala Harris and Tim Walz in the 2024 Presidential Election." The move felt like one perfectly orchestrated by her notoriously strategic publicist, Tree Paine.
It's like Swift heard the mounting pressure from her fans begging her to clarify what her politics are even though she has openly been a staunch Democrat for years. Fans needed Swift to prove to them that they could trust her because their unrelenting faith was waning. However, this isn't the only time that Swift's scandals have made her fans question her. Last year, Swift dated the British frontman of the band The 1975, Matty Healy. As Salon contributor Kelly Pau said, "[Healy] used to follow Kyle Rittenhouse on Instagram. He jerks off to and jokes about Ghetto Gaggers, a porn website that focuses on the brutalization of Black women."
Most egregiously, in a 2023 episode of "The Adam Friedland Show," Healy laughed alongside hosts Friedland and Nick Mullen as they mocked Nigerian and Dominican rapper Ice Spice, referring to her as an "Inuit Spice Girl" and "Chubby Chinese Lady." Healy barely apologized for his racist comments and Swift continued to date him until fans and critics alike called out her own politics. She "swiftly" dumped Healy and went on to feature the up-and-coming rapper on her song "Karma," a move that people dubbed as Swift showing her "white feminism."
There have been many other instances of Swift being called out by fans for various things, like the widely reported use of her private jet and its emissions. To get ahead of this specific one, Swift's team attempted to sue a college student who tracks celebrity private jet flights, but the singer was still met with even more backlash from fans about how much she contributes to the climate crisis.
Swift's most public blunders have centered on people questioning whether her well-known liberal politics are as fickle as fans' belief in her. It's a dynamic I know all too well. For their perception of her to stay intact there must be immediate accountability if she does something that morally challenges them. It's an internal struggle that I could never come to terms with as my own sense of identity began to trump what celebrity validation meant to me in my teen years.
So what happens when we stop forcing celebrities to shapeshift into who we want them to be or who they project themselves to be to us? Does the illusion fully wear off if we drop the compulsive need to call them out because we want them to be held to a certain standard?
I stopped caring about One Direction when I realized that moments like a band member saying the N-word inherently was something I could never defend as a Black person. If I did defend that — it would make me feel like a bad person too. But maybe the uproar about Swift's friendships does make her fans question their own morals and ethics. Maybe being friends with a potential Trumper doesn't align with their values. If that's the case, that is something they should internally work through and question as an individual — instead of demanding accountability from a woman who stands for nothing and only behind impeccably crafted PR statements.
