The Eras Tour (Kelsey's Version)
Taylor Swift’s Eras Tour celebrates the shaping of selfhood in a way that I’ve never considered. Growing up, I am sensitive to the overlap between identity and authenticity. To be described as fake is one of the worst insults in the arsenal, typically preceded by an accusatory, you’ve changed.
I attend three different schools within a five year period, between the ages of ten and fourteen. I’m obsessed with belonging. When you’re the New Girl, you are predetermined to stand out. This designation pushes me to try harder to fit in with the group. Each new school brings a new set of rules. I shop at different stores, style my hair for the first time and beg my parents to let me wear makeup. I listen to different music and stop bringing personal books in my backpack after I’m chastised for reading for fun.
I’m super unhappy during this period. Something about uncertainty in who you are going to be, and the feeling of helplessness when you forfeit your entire self at a group of middle schoolers in pursuit of approval.
To me, the phrase growing up has been a way to acknowledge change in a positive light. There is grace inherent with figuring yourself out. I think about shedding skin, whittling down to the most core idea of who I am. Or folding a piece of paper over itself, again, again, again. All of the versions are there, but we only see one at a time. What if we unfold ourselves? Why is it terrifying?
Do you ever read your old Facebook messages, or look to see what you were posting on Instagram ten years ago? Does it make you cringe? Courtney Cook writes about this with ruthless honesty. She writes,
For around 23 hours and 56 minutes of each day, I am completely comfortable and cool with my online presence. But for those approximately 4 minutes when I check Timehop and see my past self from an outside perspective, I want to hurl myself off a cliff and live the remainder of my life as kelp or seafoam.
It is so much easier, so much more comfortable, to turn away from our imperfect histories. To think of ourselves as fixed beings and ignore any To metaphorically close the door behind you and keep marching forward. To reflect only with scrutiny or fondness instead of sincerity.
As a writer, it is particularly paralyzing to put yourself into words for anyone. As you grow, your writing reminds you of who you once were. This can be haunting, but Taylor changes all of that for me.
The Eras Tour highlights all versions of Taylor, no matter the pressures that had shaped her. She lines up the caricatures of her public self and owns every single one of them. As an artist, she balances her perceived identity with intensely vulnerable and raw songwriting. Her music spans half her lifetime and she looks back at herself without fear and without shame.
Instead of reacting with shame to the miles we’ve traveled from who we used to be, what if, like Taylor, we flesh out these strangers to ourselves and admire how we’ve changed?
I’m dying to write about projection but I’m running to the farmer’s market and I’m already late. Taylor dresses up as herself and we dress up as Taylor. Each era has a distinct vibe. I curl my bangs and curate my outfit to mimic Taylor’s image. There’s more to say but I’m out the door.
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