#confident and almost bullish persona we've seen lately from her in terms of her own self reflection

[whiskeyswifty]

One of my favorite things about TTPD is definitely the thread of what makes an artistic genius a genius that runs through it. Specifically, the very concept of genius as it pertains to Taylor swift and how she herself has evolved that definition within her own field, how she mocks it and interrogates it on this album. But also the way it conflates with how we dub her a genius these days; artistically, strategically, philosophically (depending on your mileage). The crux of the issue ultimately is that historically, geniuses are often characterized as men who are lonely and flawed to the point of unsociable. It is in fact their genius that tortures them and isolates them and subsumes them and makes them flawed. And then in turn, the only men who can create great works of genius must also possess those traits because they are decided markers of genius, and so on and so forth. Women geniuses, the few that earn that moniker, in turn are often marked by caveats tacked onto any praise or recognition of their genius work. (It’s all non-cis-men “geniuses” really but for the sake of this discussion, we’re talking specifically about women v. Men because Taylor is a cis woman in a predominantly cis male controlled space) In Taylor’s case, it’s fearless deserved AOTY because it’s impressive….. for a teenage girl writing about teenage girl things, instead of simply saying the album itself being a great work of genius deserving of the award regardless of her age and it’s subject matter. Another being instead of simply saying she is skilled at distilling the human experience, she is deemed adept at distilling the girl experience, the girlhood of her weepy, exuberant little girl audiences. Always a qualifier, always a subset and an othering of female genius. It’s genius…. Within the confines of the handicap of being a woman. 

If you trace back her relationship to this confine, at first, she did try to fit into this genius mold sculpted by men. Young and girlish as she was, she still peddled the idea that she too was churning out these genius songs from a sort of tortured and lonely isolation, albeit scribbled in gel pen ink with kicking feet and yearning sighs, but in isolation all the same. I say peddled not because she isn’t a fabulous solo songwriter but she wasn’t often in total isolation as per the (male) genius handbook, and there in lies the very thing her genius begins to push back on, and the genius presentation of women that often clashes with the defined genius mold of men. She’s incredibly social. Vivacious and thrives being around friends and family, and her line of work traffics in that vivaciousness as a pop star, smiling and dancing and giggling on stage for thousands. She enjoys collaboration and throwing parties and meeting new people professionally and personally. She seeks out interactions with her own fans, to varying degrees over the years but still her hand is always reaching out across the barricade. How much of this is purely a product of a public persona and how much is her innate personal qualities is a moot argument, because the fact remains the same that this is the persona we are presented with, who is the antithesis of the male genius. And it’s not to say that she isn’t lonely or flawed or tortured about it. 

TTPD specifically interrogates that idea both through the lens of observing a guy who fancies himself a genius in that very male way, but also her own representation of genius in the world and how she repudiates the male genius mold foisted upon her. Mocking the stereotypical misanthropic traits of this male “genius” she encountered on songs like the title track, but also mocking the way he (and us by extension) try to classify her as a genius with all the trappings of one. Going as far as to refer to herself as an idiot in contrast, not intellectually perhaps but in terms of her comprehension of the world and her place in it, she doesn’t feel like a genius, not the way the man she’s speaking to seems to cartoonishly categorize them anyway. She doesn’t want to hole up in the Chelsea hotel with a typewriter wallowing in the burden of her genius because she doesn’t feel burdened by it that way, but rather her genius makes her curious and compelled to continue living boldly and blindly. If his (and the world’s) idea of genius is that willfully lonely tortured poet, then she’s much happier to cast herself as a modern idiot. She continues to push back as the album progresses, wherein she doesn’t claim she doesn’t get lonely or she isn’t flawed, but simply that she doesn’t define herself that way or even let those feelings steer her. Broken Heart is a quite literal example where she endures one of the biggest heartbreaks known to humankind and touts her ability to continue to perform her job due to the fortitude of her compartmentalization, not letting it decide how she will live her life. The Prophecy, where she bangs her fists against the forces that insist that she must remain in the lonely tortured poet mold in exchange for this genius, be they arcane or the small mindedness of modern world around her. She becomes animalistic, feral as she howls at the moon even, refusing to be shackled. Which brings us to Who’s Afraid, the most violent push back against the male genius you could say. She does not retreat to the folklore cabin in the woods as she once did when she is lonely and flawed and tortured, but instead lashes out and monstrously displays her emotion in the faces of those who scorned her, promises to never retreat and to instead haunt them, and perhaps all of us, forever. A Frankenstein’s monster of herself, where she is both doctor and creation. A story whose comparison is apt for its subject matter, but also in its creation that gets to the core of how she redefined genius. 

Mary Shelley, a woman, wrote Frankenstein, a seminal work of literary genius, and while the book is about a genius tortured in isolation by his genius creations, she didn’t write it in lonely tortured isolation herself. She came up with it in a house full of friends where they played a game to see who could come up with the best ghost story, for fun. The impetus of its creation was to share it with others and emotionally connect with them. The manuscript closes out TTPD with a harrowing but frank recounting of a transformationally damaging relationship in her life where the song itself confronts how she hid the scope of the damage from others, and even to a degree herself, behind the genius works she created about that relationship. Ironically, some of which are the single works that had the big wigs and critics and greek chorus of the music world finally cement her genius. The lemonade out of lemons she could have said and been done with it. But it wasn’t the declaration of genius that those works afforded her that brought her closure and peace on the matter, as the Manuscript dictates. It was the way the work of artistic genius was received and emotionally resonated and connected with people that allowed her to emotionally connect to it herself over the years and create more art from it until she finally understood the experience fully. Understood what the agony of it all had been for back in her early twenties, and thereby understood what the genius is all for now. If being a woman is seen as a handicap by her genius peers or by those who decide genius in others, merely a hysterical woman or a weepy little girl, perhaps it also could be a huge reason for why she’s able to redefine it, due to her access and ability to embrace those hysterical weepy emotions as only women are allowed to do in modern society writ large.

And so Taylor reshapes the identifying image of our genius as a bitter, tortured, stoic man in his cabin into a smiling face of a woman overwhelmed by a thousand emotions, clasped hands reaching out over barricades. Or one of eyes searching and recognizing herself in the faces of 80,000 people in an audience. Even seeking artistic collaboration with her friends that often results in sharing ghost stories of their own kind out of a desire to connect with each other. As sad and heartbroken and lonely she may feel, she will never be alone and the great mistake of the tortured and isolated male genius is thinking that he must be. If you believe that there is some divine purpose that bestows artistic genius upon a person, what Taylor Swift discovered and redefines and insists upon is that it is not a lifelong curse of loneliness but a gift of boundless and eternal human connection.