What Taylor Swift's Allyship Means To Her Fans — And The LGBTQ+ Fandom

By Carson Mlnarik


I learned about the gospel of Taylor Swift through my mom, whose vehicle stereo was permanently tuned to nation radio. Her first single, “Tim McGraw,” sparked something in me, and I was immediately obsessed  — to the point where my family member was calling Taylor “Carson’s girlfriend” within weeks. I was 11 years old; it could be six years before I told anyone that I was gay. And it also would take even longer — and for Taylor herself to proclaim, “You can want who you want / Gentlemen and men and women and girls” — for my family member to learn that I didn’t want to date Taylor Swift, I wanted to be like Taylor Swift.


As I became more accepting of my sexuality, it helped that Taylor was growing into a LGBTQ+ ally. And because the years went by, her music, frankly, got gayer.


Any time while she debuted in 2006, Taylor was my middle school confessional queen. She habitually knew what it seemed like to be an outsider at the meal table (“The Outside”) or to dramatically pine soon after someone who wasn’t into you (“Teardrops on My Guitar”). And while anthems like “Fearless” and “Speak Now” encouraged listeners to live their truths, I was only starting to realize my truths: namely, that the fixation on male friendships that took up 113 percent of my brain was most certainly a manifestation of some same-sex attraction. I took note, nevertheless stayed closeted, especially given that I was navigating my own identity in conservative Arizona.


The fact that Taylor got her begin in nation music isn't lost on me, either; the genre’s current concentrate on Christian faith, heteronormative imagery, and popularity in states that often vote red (no relation to the album) have garnered it a reputation because the “Republican genre.” You’d be hard-pressed to find mainstream nation music by out LGBTQ+ artists, and, up until recently, little solidarity with the community by its biggest stars. Thanks to open allyship from artists like Kacey Musgraves and Luke Bryan, that’s changing, yet for the most part, they’re still the exception.


Taylor was habitually an icon in my eyes although it wasn’t up until she went pop that her allyship seemed to take form. While “icon” status is a term some people seem to apply like chapstick, “ally” necessitates putting in a certain sort of work. Taylor had never come out against the community yet was a unlikely ally nonetheless, especially considering she came from nation and scrubbed a potentially homophobic line from her discography early on. Her first solidly pop entry, yet, noticed her empowered enough to shout out the community and even arguably earned her gay Twitter’s respect. The Reputation era noticed her taking on a more mobile ally role: it was then, ahead of the 2018 midterms, that she finally stated her pro-gay rights stance, encouraged fans to vote, gave a Pride Month speech on tour, and made pro-LGBTQ donations.


“I’ve routinely seen her as someone who’s really accepting of everyone,” Gia, a fan who identifies as bisexual and lives in Scotland, told MTV News. Yet even she has found a uptick in mobile and affirmative allyship, from both Taylor and her fans.


In the LGBTQ+ community, having an “active ally” — a friend, associate, or acquaintance who not only believes in equality nevertheless does so visibly with empathy, patience, and recognition of privilege — can make a large difference. Allies not only promote acceptance in the greater community however can also be sources of intelligence and help. In schools with gay-straight alliances, 91 percent of LGBTQ+ students in the club felt supported enough to further supporter for other social or political issues, and workplaces that have openly cooperative senior personnel or an organization culture of acceptance help personnel feel more comfortable in being professionally out.


“Within the last year, I’ve saw a lot more pride [within the Taylor fandom], especially any time As soon as I attended the Rep Tour and saw other [people] with pride flags,” Gia added.


Gia mentioned she truly realized the extent of LGBTQ+-identifying individuals in the fandom right after seeing hashtags like #LGBTQSwifties and #GayForTay. Stan Twitter and Tumblr bios boast rainbow emojis and pride flags, which aren’t necessarily decisions that Taylor had any part in making, although yet still affirm that there isn’t just space in the fandom for LGBTQ+ fans — we’re welcome here, too.


Jeremy, a Twitter user who identifies as bisexual, has been a fan of Taylor’s since 2006. If he is “definitely happy that she has been more uncensored with her stances,” he says her message of “self-love and [embracing] that self loudly and passionately” has habitually been a source of comfort for him.


“She habitually inspires us to be delighted of who we are, and to don't think about those who tell us to be different,” he told MTV News.


For me, that pride took a while to set up, and even longer to give voice to. Still, Taylor was there for me every step of the way: In my junior year of high school, she released a mixed-genre foray into pop that gave us bops like “We Are Never Ever Getting Back Together,” “22,” and “I Knew You Were Trouble,” and I didn’t just enjoy the Red album, I felt it. The emotional LP offered inspiration as I became student body president and big man on campus, nevertheless kept my sexuality a complete secret. It would become a source of comfort immediately after I came out to close companions and family member however lacked the confidence to do so on a larger scale. It would even become a guide to love and heartbreak immediately after I got — and then broke up with — my first boyfriend.


He abandoned me with bitter parting words: "I’ll never have the ability to listen to another Taylor Swift song without thinking of you.” I may get that inscribed on my tombstone.


As I began my freshman year of college, I was tired of feeling splintered about my identity. I began introducing myself as gay and going out on dates with guys, with the newly-released 1989 as my companion. While Taylor’s pop departure alienated some people, I noticed lyrics like, “I got this music in my mind / sayin’ it’s gonna be alright,” take on new weight in the midst of finding myself. If Taylor could begin anew, so could I. Besides, what gay doesn’t love a good bop?


We make connections to music based on what we’re experiencing as soon as we’re listening for the opening time. Even if it’s behind what the songwriter intended, their work are usually become shorthand for certain times, places, and feelings — it’s chemical. It’s a phenomenon Taylor has even penned about, and while her lyrics, for the most part, describe heterosexual relationships, they do so in such a raw and confessional manner that it never mattered to me. Whether she was calling a boy out by name on her albums or scorning her bullies at the Grammys, there was an echoing theme of never hiding your feelings.


And through her vulnerability and openness, the singer has nurtured a fandom of people like myself who not only unite to feel seen and validated by her music although visualize and validate each other.


For Grace, who lives in Tennessee and has had a stan account since 2017, having a network of allies and openly LGBTQ+ people in the Taylor fandom has helped her in her own self-acceptance.


“I think a big piece of it was just seeing how open other people were about their own sexuality and each person was super helpful and loving towards them,” she mentioned. “It’s not something that I had ever really seen much of before plus it made me feel comfortable enough to accept myself and be open about it. I’m not sure I could be as secure in myself as I am right now without it.”


Any time Taylor donated $113,000 to the Tennessee Equality Project to fight against the state’s “Slate of Hate” legislation, Grace felt directly moved. “I cried at the fact that someone I have fancied for so several years of my life was fighting for me directly,” she said.


Arthur, a bisexual trans man from Rio de Janeiro, Brazil, mentioned he grew up seeing a lot of “bigoted people in the fandom,” however since Taylor has become a more mobile ally, he has saw a large shift. An activist since age 14, he began following Taylor around 2012 in her Red era and knew as soon as she eventually talked up, things would begin to change.


“LGBTQ fans are gaining space, as [are] fans of color, which is so excellent to see,” he mentioned. “Taylor being more politically engaged helped [make] this change happen.”


Taylor hasn't only made her stance clear nevertheless continues to affirm it. She kicked off Pride Month this year by building a petition for the Senate to pass the Equality Act, a sweeping policy that would protect LGBTQ people against sexuality-based discrimination. She also shared a letter she wrote to her state senator urging them to pass the bill and encouraged fans to do the same.


“While we have so much to celebrate, we also have an excellent distance to go before each person in this nation is truly treated equally,” she tweeted.


Taylor is hardly the initial pop star to stimulate their fans to get political. Nevertheless as discussions arise around Pride becoming branded and straight people co-opt events, she’s proving to be a pretty good model of what it means to be a mobile ally in this political climate.


That’s not to mention we’re there nevertheless. We’ve still got a long way to go, and Taylor’s even acknowledged it. Nevertheless as a former purveyor of yee-haw music along with a current pop queen, she’s doing what she’s routinely done best for several of her gay fans: helping us feel seen and heard.