Cheer captain on the bleachers
Fan reception to Taylor Swift's romance with Travis Kelce reflects conservative gender ideals.
Perhaps you’ve heard, but Taylor Swift had a very good year.
2023 saw Swift continuously top herself. She returned to the stage with her record-breaking Eras Tour and spent the past 12 months planted at the rare intersection of cultural dominance and critical acclaim. She crossed the threshold into billionaire status and was even named the Time Person of the Year.
But just as Swift’s fans began to celebrate her victory lap last spring, they were stunned to learn of her breakup with longtime boyfriend Joe Alwyn.
Initially, her fans mourned the loss of the six-year relationship which inspired albums and love songs like “Cornelia Street,” “invisible string” and “New Year’s Day.” They then turned their attention to the highs and lows of Swift’s newly-single social life. Swift’s breakup didn’t create her inescapability, but her subsequent single girl pap walks bolstered public interest even more as she steamrolled pop culture.
Enter Travis Kelce, tight end for the Kansas City Chiefs, who attended Swift’s tour in July and later publicly expressed romantic interest. Kelce even made a friendship bracelet with his phone number on to earn Swift’s favor, which ultimately did not reach her.
Months later, Swift spent downtime between shows at Arrowhead Stadium to watch Kelce play the Chicago Bears. Swift’s move all but confirmed their relationship to online sleuths and sparked a media frenzy, which picked up steam as she surprise-changed a lyric onstage to reflect Kelce, described his public pursuit as “metal as hell” in her Person of the Year interview and incorporated fellow Chiefs WAG Brittany Mahomes into her girlsquad.
Her subsequent appearances at games dominated both the NFL’s broadcast and social media coverage and even led to an increase in sales for Kelce’s jersey.
While some NFL fans are tired of seeing Swift at games, many Swifties have wholeheartedly embraced Kelce as her new leading man, launching a subreddit dedicated to their relationship and speculating on social media when the pair will get engaged.
The overwhelmingly positive fan reception towards Kelce reads on the surface as the actions of uniquely dedicated stans, but reveals a slow, but growing, turn to re-emphasizing conservative gender roles. The fan narrative of Kelce being Swift’s other half reads as a celebration of her finding the traditionally masculine man she needed all along.
He stands in stark contrast towards Swift’s usual type, which is made up of actors and musicians, sometimes from across the pond, who do not exude the easily legible masculinity of a professional athlete.
This change in kind has been well received. Kelce has been widely embraced by Swift’s fans, who laud his outspoken romantic pursuit, brawny good looks and jockish affability. His unabashed praise of Swift’s talent and level of success in interviews has earned him praise, and fans often expressed gratitude for his chivalrous attitude towards Swift. Kelce’s close relationship with his family adds to his charm, as does his appeal to men outside the Swiftie universe. Who could be a better boyfriend for Swift than someone who most boyfriends around the country aspire and relate to?
Praise of his “gentlemanly” actions, like his insistence on helping her out of their car on a night out and admission that he feels “protective” of her (“I feel like whenever I’m on a date, I’m always having the sense that I’m the man in the situation, I’m like protective,” Kelce said) infantilizes Swift, a grown woman who also happens to have a full security detail.
While she has certainly had her share of mistreatment in the public eye— from sexist media coverage surrounding her dating life to being groped by an older man during a meet and greet— Kelce casting himself as a gallant boyfriend is patronizing when one considers Swift’s capabilities to defend herself, whether through limiting time in the spotlight or shutting down claims that she lied about being sexually assaulted.
The fan narrative of Kelce being Swift’s other half reads as a celebration of her finding the traditionally masculine man she needed all along.
It goes to show how deeply reductive gendered expectations are embedded into our collective understanding when one of the most powerful women in the world is ultimately recognized as a damsel in distress.
Alwyn was also considered by fans to be a steady partner who offered Swift a reprieve from the size of her celebrity, but she specifically declared in her 2017 track “Call It What You Want,” which depicted the genesis of their relationship, that she did not want Alwyn to “save her.” He was her muse, not her knight in shining armor.
While some fans cast Kelce in the role of muscular protector, others imagine him as the “supportive partner.” In their minds, Kelce is totally cool with Swift’s outsized relative power and fame. They point to Kelce’s proclamation that he has no issue with Swift’s massive celebrity as evidence of an evolved relationship, devoid of the petty grievances that supposedly poisoned her relationship with Alwyn.
Whether fans imagine Kelce as Swift’s protective rottweiler or supportive partner, whether the enduring impression of their relationship is Kelce’s leading her around a date night or cheering her on live, the solace her fans take in the relationship is a conservative one. Men, in their understanding, should be praised for the grueling, dangerous and subversive work of supporting and tolerating successful women.
A more honest analysis acknowledges that Kelce benefits from Swift’s higher profile. His proximity to Swift at the height of her popularity has catapulted his star. But men are rarely criticized for social climbing.
If they were, then Kelce would be. His previous attempts for mainstream fame— a widely-forgotten 2016 dating reality show, appearing in a documentary about his brother, their ongoing podcast — and his coordinated courtship of Swift would be seen as desperate.
Prior to hooking up with Swift, Kelce wasn’t even the most high-profile player on his team (see: star quarterback Patrick Mahomes) let alone the entire league. His aspiration to further wealth and fame makes sense given the comparatively short careers afforded by the NFL and dating Swift certainly opens the door for an ascent comparable to John Cena or Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson. But his leveraging of a woman’s celebrity for higher status and success —the most progressive thing about the Swift/Kelce relationship— is rarely acknowledged as such.
Besides Swifites’ easy acceptance of a coattail riding Super Bowl champion, the inclination to fast-track her new romance speaks to a broader societal discomfort with unpartnered, childless women.
Swift, 34, is no longer at an age where being unmarried and childless goes without unfair scrutiny. Part of the public shock about the demise of her relationship with Alwyn stemmed from the notion that she would re-enter singlehood in her 30s, when women are still largely expected to be settled with a stable partner. She is a notable exception among her contemporaries like Rihanna, Adele and Beyoncé, who were all either married or had their first child by Swift’s age.
Kelce in particular seems hand-picked to quiet such discomfort. His family is a core component of his public persona, letting fans daydream about future domesticity. And his joking that he wants a “breeder” prior to his relationship with Swift reinforces the notion that heterosexual relationships—and women— exist solely to continue male legacy.
The breeder joke was made as a reference to his brother Jason, who has three daughters. Jason’s wife Kylie said in an interview that Jason repeatedly hoped for sons, but now “spoils” their daughters, who all have traditionally masculine names. It’s easy to imagine a future where the younger Kelce adopts a #GirlDad persona, wherein men weaponize affection for their daughters to signal female allyship but ultimately retain paternalistic attitudes.
Swift made musical references to domesticity with Alwyn, and speculation followed suit, but only after years of committed partnership. The enthusiasm for her to quickly settle down with Kelce feels unnatural, like the continuation of the nuclear family is the greatest thing for women—even groundbreaking women with complex careers—to aspire to.
The traditional undertones that surround their relationship dovetail nicely with the increasingly conservative culture of social media and influencing.
TikTok is home to tradwives (short for “traditional wife”) and stay-at-home girlfriends who depict financial dependence on men as a way of gaming capitalism. They document peaceful days with adorable children and homemade bread in the former and leisurely perma-weekends spent shopping and performing self-care (largely though beauty maintenance) in the latter.
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These creators parrot progressive ideals on the perils of corporate culture, which frequently leaves women feeling burnt out and barred from achieving their full potential. They seem happy to be living life outside of the confines of modern capitalism, (read: the stresses of independent living) and remind the viewer that it is their choice (read: the correct choice) to dedicate their lives to the home (read: take on all domestic responsibilities).
Like the Swift-Kelce fandom, they package an inherently conservative message in a you-go-girl format. Traditional ideals are masked by choice feminism— in which any action taken by a woman is understood to be inherently feminist and empowering—while equating fulfillment as something that can only occur when in proximity to a “good man”.
Many of Swift’s fans want a “good man” like that for her. They say it is because they want her to be happy. The implication is that the stresses of the media and the demands of the public are too taxing. So they transmute her new boytoy into a future husband, ignoring that she didn’t even know him a year ago. In other words, her fans believe there is no way she can be happy without a man.
The conversation around her relationship with Kelce also reflects the permeation of social conservatism in other facets of American culture. Country music, where Swift got her start, has continuously prioritized airplay for straight white men at the expense of women, artists of color and LGBTQ+ musicians. It has also routinely made hits of songs glamorizing the traditional nuclear family and gender roles, in addition to other conservative dog whistles.
Further, the rise of pop culture conservatism mirrors a similar escalation in American politics, as reflected in the overturning of Roe v. Wade, abolishing of affirmative action, rampant anti-LGBTQ+ legislation and rising reports of social conservatism. The push for Swift to lock it down with Kelce is a grim reminder that even the most powerful, insulated elite women can’t resist being sucked into regressive cultural shifts.
The myth that women have to choose between professional, personal or romantic fulfillment is just that: a myth. There isn’t anything misogynistic or regressive about romantic partnership or family; at their core, they speak to the most basic universal needs for love and community and can be immense sources of joy and growth.
Similarly, there’s nothing wrong with Swift, after what was likely a very painful breakup, having a fun romance with someone against type. But should the defining image of her Living Legend Era be her boyfriend’s jersey and a vodka cranberry at Arrowhead?
Ironically, the conservative turn in the Swift discourse follows a cultural rapprochement regarding popular interpretation of her career. The general public and media have reflected on its unfair harshness regarding her dating life and overall public persona; critics now seem embarrassed for deriding her talent and fixating on her relationships.
It’s just a shame that during a year defined by Swift’s successes as an individual, so many of her fans only want to talk about her boyfriend.