By Lake DiStefano
Staff Writer
I’m sure most have seen the onslaught of videos all over Instagram and TikTok that poke fun at Taylor Swift’s private jet usage.
I’ve found myself laughing at a few, and the comments usually range from genuine outrage to more comedic protesting. This, as many know, is a response to the infamous list of the top celebrity private jet emissions, which was published last year and is just another chart that Swift has claimed the top spot on.
Her fans are, as usual, defensive, and her detractors, often just as unreasonable, relish in the blemish within the singer’s perfect image. I’ll concede, it's an interesting dent in the near-impenetrable reputation of the singer — yet I’ve begun to notice some unforeseen consequences in making her the face of carbon emissions.
Online discourse, especially related to that of the climate, is usually more about political mudslinging than it is genuine progress attainment. Still, it is disheartening to see how this very important and revealing list has been shaped to fit the far less important narrative of Swift’s character.
When I’ve felt particularly bold, I’ve probed those who engage with these videos — which are clearly meant for comedy — about how they feel about the rest of the artists on the list, and by proxy how one should go about delivering the pushback necessary for them to reconsider their jet usage.
Overwhelmingly, the response is either that of dismissal for the list as a whole, or an authentic ignorance as to its contents. For anyone not well aware, the list also contains other musical acts like Jay-Z and Beyoncé, Blake Shelton, and Travis Scott.
As I attempt to foster genuine discussion around these individuals, I’m often met with either pushback or downright attacks. See Swift, despite all her success, has a very specific kind of fanbase. One which certainly has little overlap with that of Jay-Z or Travis Scott.
There seems to be this false equivalency where huge pop stars, such as Swift, are at fault for the brunt of the emissions, their vanity-oriented dispositions falling neatly into this preconstructed narrative. Yet, in reality, hip-hop and country artists also exist within that list. With the names tied to those genres barely being better than Swift in terms of emissions.
This, of course, shouldn’t matter. These are all schematics in the face of the mutual crime that ties these various artists together. However, it does seem to matter to people. It matters a lot, actually.
Every time I’ve tried to have this discussion, without fail, someone immediately gets defensive when the topic shifts to whomever on the list they seem to favor. While many clamor for Swift’s comeuppance, they love to mimic the childlike denial her fans exhibit when one dares to critique their para-socially beloved singer.
Hypocrisy lives within immaturity. Still, how can someone, who so eloquently speaks about the negative environmental impact of Swift’s jet usage, lose critical thought when the lens is pointed at one of their favorite artists?
In the few times I’ve cared enough to interrogate this mentality, the response seems to be that their preferred jet user has, in other ways, contributed to society, that their meaning supersedes that of the carbon emitted.
This is interesting to me since it seems to imply both that Swift’s contributions are lesser than the sin of her jet usage and that positive impact and influence can only exist in those who are faultless.
These differing viewpoints, combined with the passion often behind environmental politics, lead to the logical fallacies displayed here.
The solution? Intersectionality. The term is seen often in online discourse of all shades, so it seems impossible to me that it is foreign to anyone engaging in this discussion.
So why, with how often it is lobbed at by those within environmental politics, do they fail to grasp and utilize it within their own conversations? The issue seems to be an unwillingness to concede that someone’s preferred artist may also be guilty of abhorrent amounts of fly time, as if one can only exist as either wholly good or dastardly evil.
This is simply not reality. However monumental Travis Scott may be to the hip-hop genre, or however empowering Beyoné may be to Black women, they are still culpable within this discussion.
People can, and most often do, inhabit two natures at once. Intersectionality isn’t just crucial, it’s reality — and the insistence on refusing to critique one’s favorite artists has stalled this discussion more than I care to see anymore.
