
Groups of women and young girls anxiously sat around the United Airlines Terminal in Chicago waiting their turn to board a plane to Vancouver, Canada where Taylor Swift was set to perform the final weekend of her record-breaking world tour.
Businessmen were scarcely populated around the terminal, possibly flying for an arduous work trip, but they didn’t seem to matter to anyone there. For those like me, flying to see Taylor Swift, the plane was merely their chariot to carry us all away to the paradise of heartbreak, joy, anger and femininity contained in the walls of the BC Place stadium.
I’ve been a fan of Taylor since I was four years old. My first memory of her music was sitting in the run-down basement of my dad’s house as he navigated YouTube searching for the music video to “You Belong With Me.” I watched that video nearly every day when I was younger. There was something about the song’s melody and the video’s visuals that stuck to my underdeveloped brain like glue.
I remained a loyal fan of hers as the years passed. Even as she fell out of favor with the public during her public feud with Kanye West and Kim Kardashian, I bought her album “reputation” on iTunes on the weekend of its release in 2017. I stayed up until midnight to listen to the pandemic-era releases of “folklore” and “evermore,” which are still my two favorite projects of hers.
After the release of “Midnights,” in 2022, my love for Taylor has changed drastically, at times for the worse. As she returned to the pop music scene and reached incomprehensible levels of fame, her music started to feel like a commercialized version of what it once was.
Her bubbly country music seen on her earliest albums and the heart-wrenching honesty that once bled across her discography seem like a distant memory now. Her two latest projects, “Midnights” and “The Tortured Poets Department” feel heartless and uninspired; like they were manufactured for streaming numbers instead of artistic merit.
Despite my dislike for her recent career choices, I haven’t been able to shake her grip on my music listening habits. It was always a frustrating moral dilemma I had to deal with because I didn’t know how I could continue to be invested in a celebrity who frequently left a sour taste in my mouth.
However, as I boarded the plane and looked out into the sea of women traveling across the continent just to see Taylor perform, it all began to make sense. Her ability to have people from around the world embark on journeys for a few hours of performances is what keeps me invested in her. Regardless of my opinions on her recent music, the camaraderie it creates is undeniable and rare.
Taylor’s writing has always been my favorite aspect of her music because it communicated emotions in a way that few other popular singers could. The emotions and experiences in her lyrics were devoutly feminine, which gave my childhood self an escape from the confines of masculinity I tried to run away from.
I often refused to wear polos or button-down shirts, because the thought of being called handsome made me wince. I was always chasing after girlish experiences to better align with how I wanted to be perceived. I played dress up in fairy costumes with my sister and watched endless hours of “Winx Club” on YouTube. But nothing compared to the feminine soundscape of Taylor’s music.
When it was finally show day, my best friend and I dressed in our hotel room, blasting songs from the setlist and drinking cheap canned cocktails from the liquor store down the street. As we left the hotel room and began our venture to the stadium, the scenery of the streets was uncanny.
Women of all ages skipped down the sidewalk, arms intertwined with their friends and family all dressed for the occasion.
The sidewalks of downtown Vancouver were no longer the sight of monotonous men in suits walking to their next business meeting. They were the golden road that defined the pilgrimage of women in sparkly coats and blocked heels to Swift’s sermon. It was an exodus of femininity with everyone in pursuit of salvation in the hands of a 30-something pop star.
While waiting outside the venue, “Swifties” swarmed around to take pictures in their special concert outfits and to exchange Taylor-themed friendship bracelets — something that became a tradition with concertgoers around the world. This is where the power of Taylor’s music could be seen in full effect
Grown men stood awkwardly in glitter hats and “reputation” merch, enduring the discomfort because of the love for their daughters and wives they accompanied. Little girls gleefully handed bracelets to the stern-faced security guards in neon vests, hoping to spread just a little of their joy, even for just the night.
During love songs, girls of all ages grabbed their friends and danced around, letting their joy exude from every limb. During the sad or angry tracks, they held each other and swayed, letting the emotions wash over them like a wave.
Within the walls of the Eras Tour Stadium, girlhood could thicken the air like an expensive perfume.
Few artists at Taylor’s level of fame can convince droves of people to set aside their differences all in the name of the shared experience of live music. But within the walls of the BC Place, the outside world ceased to exist.
All that mattered were the connections between fellow fans and the ground shaking beneath our feet as stomps and screams rattled through the rafters. That togetherness is what keeps me devoted.
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