‘Gaylor’ probably shouldn’t be the question of our times, but it does shine a light on queer representation in music. Lucy Warmington discusses the strange phenomenon of desperation for the pop star to be queer.
As I write this, I am listening to Taylor Swift’s song ‘Dress,’ widely regarded as hard proof that ‘Gaylor’ is real. ‘Gaylor,’ for those who are unaware, is the popular theory that Taylor Swift is gay and was at one point in a serious relationship with her ex-best friend and famous model, Karlie Kloss. Based on detailed ‘dissections’ of her lyrics, performances, female friendships, Instagram posts, fashion choices, music videos, and every unspoken word, ‘Swifties’ have come to the contrived conclusion that Taylor Swift has, in fact, been living a secretive and closeted life. Most recently, it is Swift’s song ‘Maroon’ from her Midnights album which is the basis for Gaylor’s perseverance. It troubles me that I know this without researching it. To be a Swiftie is to know about Gaylor.
Influenced by the fact that she has told us multiple times, I think that Taylor Swift is probably not queer. Perhaps more importantly, I do not care to convince others on whether Taylor Swift specifically is gay or not. Frankly, that is Swift’s business. I understand the importance of identification and representation, and I don’t think sexuality is a part of someone’s character that should be readily dismissed and ignored, of course. However, I am not interested in speculating or fetishising anyone's sexuality in an effort to consequently force them out of the closet, or further into it. So, why do we want Taylor Swift to be gay so badly? And why does it matter to so many people?
The importance of more diverse and queer stories being told are conversations we are familiar with in the Film and TV industry. It is not one that happens as often, or at least not to the same extent, in the music industry. Perhaps this is because the music industry is no stranger to queer artists; some of the biggest names in music history are queer. However, there was once a trend of these artists only coming out to the public once they had already received an established platform. Elton John, Freddie Mercury, David Bowie, and even Lady Gaga, come to mind. The same societal barriers that existed for these artists early in their careers still prevail today, and unfortunately being queer is once again becoming a targeted reality. Representation, therefore, is not only important for normalising queerness, for queer people to be seen, out loud and proud, but also for helping queer people embrace their sexualities, identities, and culture, and finding relatability in any music genre they reach for.
Representation, therefore, is not only important for normalising queerness, for queer people to be seen out, loud, and proud, but also for helping queer people embrace their sexualities, identities, and culture, and finding relatability in any music genre they reach for.
So, if there was an absence of queer representation in mainstream pop music, I could see why people would try and morph Swift into that which they desperately crave: a gay music phenomenon. But this isn’t the case. There is a continuous stream of queer artists entering and dominating the music industry, throughout every genre. If you’re seeking queerness in music, it is much more likely you’ll find lyrical relatability in out queer artists such as Fletcher, boygenius, Hayley Kiyoko, Janelle Monáe, St.Vincent, Shea Diamond, Dodie, Kim Petras, Girl in Red, Halsey and Miley Cyrus, to name a few, than you will by searching for hints of lesbian love affairs in the ‘Lavender Haze’ music video.
If you’re seeking queerness in music, it is much more likely you’ll find lyrical relatability in ‘out’ queer artists than you will by searching for hints of lesbian love affairs in the Lavender Haze music video.
Taylor Swift is not exactly an ideal prospect for queer representation in the first place. Is a White, cisgender, upper-class, billionaire really going to fill the gap in queer representation? Swift is hardly even a model ally. Although she briefly solved homophobia with her hit ‘You Need to Calm Down’ in 2019, her allyship is often argued to be misplaced at best, and performative at worst. It is certainly not representative of the broader spectrum of the queer community, and being friends with one Black drag queen doesn’t speak out for the discrimination experienced by queer people of colour or the tyrant of hate thrown toward transgender people. Allyship has to be as out and loud as queer people deserve to be. While Swift isn’t outwardly homophobic, there are better allies and better vessels for queer representation in the music industry.
Is a White, cisgender, upper-class billionaire really going to fill the gap in queer representation?
There is a question to be raised about why bisexual artists, such as Miley Cyrus or Lady Gaga, who have both been continuously vocal with their support for the LGBTQ+ community, are not lauded as the representation desired in Taylor Swift. This echoes a tired misogynistic and homophobic trope of dismissing the experiences of bisexual women as toe-dipping members of the LGBTQ+ community. Or why so many have made Taylor Swift gay, instead of making her a sort of ‘gay icon,’ as with Ariana Grande, Madonna, Judy Garland, Barbara Streisand, Liza Minnelli or Kylie Minogue? It’s high time we let Swift be who she is and do what she does best; a record-breaking artist and a powerful lyricist. Let us instead search for queer representation in the music industry in the hundreds of underappreciated, authentic, and flourishing queer artists out there who are ready to be adored. We should remember that, if there is a gap in queer representation in mainstream music, it is not a White, cisgender woman-shaped gap that should be filled by Taylor Swift.