Have you recently experienced bad blood with friends? It turns out, Taylor Swift can help.
Betrayal by trusted others, like friends, can have a deep impact on one's psyche. In essence, feeling betrayed, particularly by friends from whom we have certain expectations, like support, respect, loyalty, and connection, can cause wide-ranging effects including shock, grief, damaged self-esteem, and self-doubt.
Taylor Swift is no exception to experiencing betrayal by friends: Her public betrayal years ago by then-friends Kanye West and Kim Kardashian resulted in not only a tarnished reputation, but—in exploring what that betrayal made her do—an outstanding album through which she explores the darker sides of friendship, including betrayal and deceit, and ultimately triumphs by finding strength and confidence in the face of adversity through reframing and taking control of her narrative. Indeed, a poignant lesson for us all.
How might listening to Taylor Swift's (or other) songs help?: Music is a proven "social surrogate," helping reduce loneliness, repairing low mood, and fostering a sense of connection. Music can also engage us in the process of identification. Recognizing that even one of the largest stars has experienced betrayal and managed to navigate through it healthily can serve as a powerful example of overcoming social hardship, while simultaneously feeling connected (to Swift, anyway).
The model of moving on healthily (some sarcastic notes aside) is most apparent in the song, "This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things," written by Taylor Swift and Jack Antonoff:
The song begins with the following lyrics: It was so nice throwing big parties / Jump into the pool from the balcony / Everyone swimming in a champagne sea.
In the opening verse, Swift sets the stage: She's enjoyed welcoming her friends by hosting them in large affairs through lavish means.
It continues: And there are no rules when you show up here / Bass beat rattling the chandelier / Feeling so Gatsby for that whole year.
An interesting line in the verse reads, "There are no rules when you show up here." This suggests not only catering to the guest the song is written for, their casual attitude in "showing up" despite the lavishness of the parties, and also, most poignantly, the lack of boundaries she presents for this friend. In having "no rules," she not only exposes her potential naivete, but also her willingness to abandon her standards, wants, and wishes specifically for them. Interestingly, she also references Fitzgerald's The Great Gatsby, suggesting that behind the glamour, superficiality exists in the company kept.
The pre-chorus then builds: So why'd you have to rain on my parade? / I'm shaking my head, I'm locking the gates.
In "Rain on my parade," she identifies an actor: “You.” Here she lays the responsibility for the broken relationship clearly with the friend to whom the song is written. As a result of their actions, her disappointment in them causes her to define her boundaries. By doing so, she locks the proverbial gates, both to the home in which she threw boundary-less parties, and, also, metaphorically, to herself.
The chorus begins: This is why we can't have nice things, darling / Because you break them, I had to take them away / This is why we can't have nice things, honey (oh) / Did you think I wouldn't hear all the things you said about me? / This is why we can't have nice things.
The chorus directly indicates the cause-and-effect nature of the friend's actions: As an effect of their deceit, she distances herself and removes previously mutually enjoyable "things." With notes of situational irony and sarcasm (darling, honey) throughout, along with the extra repetition of the punchline, her previous openness towards this friend has turned to mockery, conveying—albeit in a demeaning tone—her superiority in "rising above" the situation, taking control, and valuing herself by ending the friendship and removing all of the benefits, or "nice things," that came with it.
The third verse notes: It was so nice being friends again / There I was giving you a second chance / But you stabbed me in the back while shaking my hand / And therein lies the issue, friends don't try to trick you / Get you on the phone and mind-twist you / And so I took an axe to a mended fence.
Here, Swift notes not only the joy in once being friends again but also her agency and character in giving the friend in question a "second chance," her grace in looking past their initial issues. She openly describes their actions and defines them against what it means to be a good friend. Again she notes putting up a boundary and permanently distancing herself from bad actors whom she twice embraced with good faith. Implicit in this narrative is her untarnished character, the responsibility placed on the friend, a clear definition of boundaries, and her agency in the situation.
A pre-chorus again builds: But I'm not the only friend you've lost lately / If only you weren't so shady.
Here, she further justifies the narrative built, using the concept of social proof to demonstrate that losing other friends in the process is a direct result of the friend's character, not hers.
The bridge of the song notes: Here's a toast to my real friends / They don't care about the he said, she said / And here's to my baby / He ain't reading what they call me lately / And here's to my mama / Had to listen to all this drama.
In conveying a different, more uplifting tone, Swift contrasts the previous verse, which described characteristics she deems inexcusable in a friend, with what she appreciates in "real" friends instead, opposing the initial Gatsby sentiment: Supporting and trusting instead of listening to what others say, distancing from and ignoring name-calling, and lending a sympathetic ear, despite the emotional labor it might to take listen to the "drama."
The bridge ends as follows: And here's to you / 'Cause forgiveness is a nice thing to do /
Hahaha, I can't even say it with a straight face!
She initially again indicates her moral superiority by forgiving the friend, before breaking the sarcasm with a "real" laugh as the music wraps. In "Breaking the fourth wall," she sheds even the mockery: In this sense, she is no longer the "nice" friend who gave a second chance, or the "nice" friend who threw big parties. She has outgrown the "nice" person she was, who shook hands naively while being taken advantage of. She details her personal growth.
The chorus then repeats, with an intermingled bridge, contrasting again the behavior of bad friends and good.
With themes of identifying wrongdoing by friends, establishing boundaries, gaining a sense of appreciation for genuine and trustworthy relationships, and standing up for herself, Swift exhibits specific healthy ways of moving on:
Specifically, she applies cognitive restructuring (a cognitive-behavioral therapy technique) where she took a difficult situation (the drama she spoke about) and reframed it into a positive one—leaving an unhealthy friendship where she was mistreated. Further, in reframing the narrative, she constructs a new narrative emphasizing her personal growth; learning to not be so "nice," and setting boundaries instead (which I write about here). In seeking social support from trusted friends and family, she is provided with support for her emotional well-being.
Lastly, instead of having an unhealthy response of self-blame for the deceit, thus personalizing (placing disproportionate blame on herself, which can come from a desire for approval or a fear of rejection), she instead cognitively attributes the end of the friendship to the friend's bad behavior, emotionally feels negatively towards the friend because of their behavior and—despite previously feeling positive about the friendship—she chooses to distance herself permanently, a behavioral response.
In this process, true to self-determination theory, she regains her sense of control in ending a bad friendship (autonomy), gains proficiency in handling her environment (competence), and feels a sense of closeness and belonging to the "real friends" she's identified (relatedness), both allowing and motivating her to move on.
While we may never know the full details of the friendship’s demise, one thing’s for sure—Swift has moved on well.
References
Schäfer, K., & Eerola, T. (2020). How listening to music and engagement with other media provide a sense of belonging: An exploratory study of social surrogacy. Psychology of Music, 48(2), 232-251.
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