The very special thing about being a Swiftie: Fran Whiting

Want to know the best thing about being a Taylor Swift fan? This is it.

Who’s afraid of Taylor Swift?

Quite a few people, apparently, including, in no particular order, people who are homophobic, people who do not like strong women with voices – no matter how spectacular that voice happens to be – people who don’t like her going to her boyfriend’s football games (how very dare she?), and people who are Republicans who believe she is part of some sort of evil Democratic plot to bring down Donald Trump by encouraging people to be reasonable, the little minx.

Taylor Swift performs at the MCG. Picture: Graham Denholm/TAS24/Getty Images

I am not one of those people. Nor is my daughter. Or her friends. Or any of her friends’ mothers, one of whom just sent me a text that said, “I don’t know about you, but I’m feeling 52”, which made me laugh out loud.

Because here’s the thing that all the liars and the dirty, dirty cheats of the world (I do apologise, this won’t happen again) don’t get about Taylor Swift, or her fans.

And it’s this. Being a Swiftie is fun. It’s joyous. It’s inclusive.

Being a Swiftie is fathers sitting down on a rug with their daughters making friendship bracelets, it’s day trips to the beach shouting lyrics to the wind, it’s little boys wearing sequins, and little girls knowing you don’t have to be a queen to wear a crown.

It’s knowing that no matter how badly you’re feeling after a break-up, there’s a Taylor Swift lyric that’s exactly what you need to hear.

And if you’re feeling on top of the world; if everything turned out way better than expected, there’s a lyric for that too.

And as someone who lives in a house filled with teenage girls running up and down the stairs on their way to some sort of thrilling adventure (because when you are 15 everything is some sort of thrilling adventure) there’s something else too, beneath the music.

It’s knowing they have a safe space to go. To cry into their pillows over some bad boy. Or girl. Or swear a bit. Or a lot. Or doodle someone’s name over and over in bubble writing.

Taylor Swift performs at the MCG. Picture: Graham Denholm/TAS24/Getty Images

And most importantly, in an age of social media saturation, where their every move is recorded/choreographed/judged (and thank God nobody was filming me as a teenager spinning around in my bedroom to Flashdance in my legwarmers, pouring a cup of water over my own head) to dance like nobody’s watching.

Swifties don’t care if you can dance or not, they just want to know if they can jump up and down with you shouting the lyrics into each other’s faces. Just like I did when I was a teenager (Hello Whitney, Olivia, Madonna et al).

Just like you did. Just like we did. There has always been strong women with big voices, just as there has always been people who wanted to turn them down. It never works.

And anyway, we Swifties know how to deal with that sort of behaviour. With words that aim to silence, with insults based on gender, race, any sort of otherness.

You know what we do with that sort of nonsense. I think you do know. We shake it off, shake it off. We shake it off, off, off … I’m sorry, I can’t help myself.

Originally published as The very special thing about being a Swiftie: Fran Whiting