Seventy-two thousand lights sway and twinkle in a packed stadium as a blonde singer with cherry red lipstick stands on the stage with her guitar. For singer-songwriter Taylor Swift, it’s just another night on The Eras Tour, which will head overseas next month and return to the United States in October with shows in Miami, New Orleans, and Indianapolis. 

Swift’s ability to capture the experiences of girls and women is unique. Every girl has the experience of crushing on a guy who doesn’t even know she exists. Every woman at some point will understand gut-wrenching heartbreak. And every woman can relate to the butterflies-inducing, heart-pounding, back-tingly experience of learning that the guy you’re crushing on does, in fact, like you back. 

Many women feel like Swift is their best friend, emotionally validating their personal, raw, experiences.

Her song “Red” was on my breakup playlist after a rough ending to a relationship, and her song “Archer” reminds me of the beginning stages of my current relationship. Like any sensory nostalgia — such the smell of your favorite perfume or eating your favorite food — Swift’s songs define certain periods of my life, and hearing her music brings back those memories.

And maybe Swift’s music touches on female loneliness, and the desire to be seen, understood, and heard. 

She is, of course, a talented artist and a smart businesswoman. Very few artists can claim 39 Billboard Music awards, 26 Teen Choice awards, 19 iHeart Radio awards, 12 Grammys, and 10 albums, but Swift can.

But regardless of her ability to channel the feminine zeitgeist, it’s time to stop idolizing Swift. 

Her fans — otherwise known as Swifties — often blur the lines between her as a person and her art. They mistake her confessional lyrics about previous relationships and past exes for genuine lessons on life, love, and dating. 

Idolizing her emotionally cripples her, rewarding her cycle of dating, breaking up, and making new music. But idolizing her doesn’t just emotionally cripple her — it cripples her fans as well. 

Fully-grown women, for instance, will don their best Swift-inspired outfits, make and exchange friendship bracelets, and weep just to see Swift perform from the nosebleeds. 

What married woman, in her right mind, posts a TikTok video sobbing over a highschool boyfriend while her daughter watches?

Or writing about a breakup, for instance, feels a bit out of touch coming from a woman whose dating pool includes super hot, rich colleagues in Hollywood and NFL players.

Maybe every girl encounters rejection — but most girls could only dream about being turned down by the likes of Jake Gyllenhaal or Harry Styles, much less having a relationship with them.

And in some sense, her music is exploitative. Her most popular work focuses on past relationships, and she exposes previous boyfriends by dropping important key details and references, pocketing the millions she makes off of each track while leaving them vulnerable to the public and her fans — who are personally invested in her dating life and vicious to her exes. 

So, appreciate her music. Enjoy her lyrics. Belt your heart out to “Cruel Summer” and weep to “All Too Well.” Good art should move you, and in an ideal world, it should help you grow from your pain and learn from your experiences. 

But distinguishing the art from the artist is a part of growing up. And it’s time for Taylor Swift, and her fans, to grow up.