No More Ms. Nice Girl

I'm told frequently, at least once a week, that I'm intimidating. People are wary of me; I'm not welcoming. I hurt feelings without realizing it, and admittedly I do lack a certain warmth upon first meeting. But I am a nice person and I know why people may feel otherwise. It's because Taylor Swift won the Grammy for album of the year.

“What?!” You're probably saying, “That makes no sense!” It does make sense. Unfortunately, it makes too much sense.

If Swift is given the highest accolades for being the perfect icon of femininity, girls of the world will attempt to emulate her: the sickly-sweet demure, the well-organized curls and carefully manicured discretion. Therefore by comparison I am transformed into a loud-mouthed, over-opinionated, sometimes-hilarious woman. And what does that make me in the pop-culture matrix? At best Bette Midler circa “The First Wives Club,” or at worst, Roseanne Barr circa “Roseanne.”

Again, we intimidators are left to groan at the TV as we endure Swift's perfect example of fragile, virginal femininity. She reminds me of all the other passive and spotless young pop idols of years past—many (all?) of whom cracked under the weight of their angelic images.

I seriously do think Taylor is talented. She's driven and she writes her own songs. But she's just simpering—unduly gracious. Give yourself the credit, Taylor. You are the star! I wanted her to jump up onto that stage in L.A. and accept her award with a booming “hell yeah!” But that would ruin the image, no? I'll always root for a woman who can break the mold. I don't know many people who are actually like Taylor Swift. The Swiftian image is a difficult one to attain, but if someone who diverges from the waifish, vanilla, sweetie-pie image were to win a top Grammy next year, all the girls I know just might not seem so terribly intimidating.