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Maya Chari - From Tyler to Trump: What We Excuse in Art, We Endure in Politics

On October 31, Tyler, the Creator released his 7th studio album, Chromakopia. In the album, Tyler reflects on his identity, the challenges of adulthood, and feelings of paranoia and loneliness. In the short time since its release, Chromakopia has proven to be another artistic success for Tyler, reinforcing his reputation as a compelling and effective storyteller.

Tyler’s artistic roots began in the rap collective Odd Future, infamous for “shock-core,” a style of rap that often features vulgar, offensive, and misogynistic lyrics. Throughout his career, however, Tyler’s music has undergone a dramatic shift. His lyrics now explore themes like sexuality, focus on introspection, and challenge the hypermasculine norms of rap culture. Chromakopia exemplifies this transformation, presenting Tyler as an artist seemingly committed to growth and change.

I first listened to the album a week after its release, and just days after the 2024 Presidential election. In the aftermath of a divisive election, I turned to art, hoping it could offer some relief from the frustration I felt about the state of the country. I am often impressed by how Tyler’s music can always resonate with me, despite our differences in race, gender, and background. Yet this time, listening to Tyler felt different. Instead of offering solace from reality or a respite from my political despair, each song on Chromakopia became a reminder of the rampant, inescapable misogyny surrounding me. As much as his recent work reflects growth, for the first time, it was impossible for me to ignore the stain of his past. 

[Trigger warning for the following content.] One of the most troubling examples of his earlier behavior was in 2010, on Selena Gomez’s 18th birthday, when Tyler tweeted: “@selenagomez is now 18. so she can now legally take my d*** in her f*ing a*” (Schocket, 2021). This appalling and vile post is one the eight instances in which Tyler objectified Gomez online. He has also tweeted about committing sexual violence against Dakota Fanning, Miley Cyrus, and Gomez “whether they like it or not” (Schocket, 2021). 

These tweets, dismissed as attention-grabs at the time, reflect a deeper cultural issue: the normalization of misogyny in pop culture. They embody the “male gaze,” a concept Andi Zeisler describes in “Feminism and Pop Culture.” The male gaze reduces women to objects for male consumption, stripping women of their agency (Zeisler, 2008, 7). Zeisler argues that pop culture is not only the lens through which we “look at our lives,” but also actively shapes our values, both individually and collectively (Zeisler, 2008, 4). By consuming and normalizing these attitudes towards women, we risk allowing them to “inform our understanding of political issues” and establish harmful precedents for how women are treated across all aspects of life—including politics (Zeisler, 2008, 7). 

The parallels between Tyler’s words and Donald Trump’s rhetoric throughout his eight years in the political spotlight are undeniable. Trump has boasted that his fame allows him to “do anything” to women, and has recently vowed to protect women “whether they like it or not”  (Duke 2016). These statements are just a few examples of how Trump has consistently disregarded women’s agency and right to make decisions about their own lives and bodies. Now, as President-elect, he has chosen to appoint equally harmful men for his cabinet, including alleged sex trafficker Matt Gaetz (Weissert, 2024). Watching these similarities between the political world and the music industry unfold, has forced me to confront the question: How can we excuse misogyny in some areas of our lives (the art we consume) and then be shocked when it appears elsewhere (the political sphere)?

The answer is simple: we can’t. By tolerating this behavior in any sphere, we enable its presence everywhere. Yet, recognizing the problem is only the first step—it doesn’t make addressing it any easier. This is particularly true when it comes to art and the emotional attachments we form with the people who create it. 

A large part of the reason we struggle to let go of artists who perpetuate harm, lies in what Walter Benjamin calls the “cult of personality” (Benjamin, 1997, 57). The music industry does not just sell us music, it sells us the artist—their persona, their social life, their love interests, and their entire lifestyle (Benjamin, 1997, 57). By consuming their art, we become emotionally invested in them as individuals. The line between our favorite artists’ contributions to their field and their contributions to our lives starts to blur, making it difficult to critique their harmful actions. Ultimately, we excuse their behavior because losing their art feels like losing a part of ourselves.

For me, the 2024 election was the wake-up call that shattered this illusion. If we’re truly committed to change, we cannot selectively uphold our values. Of course, I still have my doubts—this realization feels especially heavy in a world where holding ourselves accountable often feels like an uneven burden. If half the country can vote for someone who’s been indicted on felony charges, why can’t I enjoy a rap song with a good beat, even if the artist has a problematic past? Is this extreme self-policing actually necessary to drive change, or is it just an unfair burden that I’m placing on myself, and other progressives, while people on the other side of the political spectrum don’t feel the need to do the same? 

Ultimately, grappling with Tyler’s art and my values isn’t just about holding Tyler accountable—it’s about what we, as consumers, choose to normalize. Zeisler reminds us that pop culture reflects and shapes societal values. By continuing to engage with artists who perpetuate harmful norms, we risk reinforcing them across industries, from music to politics. We owe it to ourselves and future generations to demand better—not just from our leaders, but from our artists, and ultimately, from ourselves. In a world where my life and the lives of the women around me feel increasingly at stake, perhaps I consider changing my favorite artist to SZA—it no longer seems like too big a sacrifice.


Bibliography

Benjamin, W. (1936). The work of art in the age of mechanical reproduction.

Zeisler, A. (2008). Feminism and pop culture. Seal Press.

Schocket, R. (2021, June 25). Tyler, the Creator apologized to Selena Gomez for his past 

inappropriate comments about her. BuzzFeed. 

https://www.buzzfeed.com/ryanschocket2/tyler-the-creator-apology-selena-gomez

Duke, J. (2016, October 6). Donald Trump sexism tracker: Every offensive comment in one 

place. Cosmopolitan UK. 

https://www.cosmopolitan.com/uk/reports/a42442/donald-trump-women-sexist-quotes/

Weissert, W. (2024, October 12). Trump names Matt Gaetz as attorney general, raising eyebrows 

over allegations. Associated Press. 

https://apnews.com/article/trump-attorney-general-matt-gaetz-justice-department-9d5150

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Comments

  1. Banet-Weiser examines how misogyny has been repackaged and normalized in modern culture, often masking itself with humor/entertainment while its actually perpetuating harmful norms. This framework aligns with your critique of Tyler,the Creator's tweets and their cultural implications. Banet-Weiser defines popular misogyny as thriving in environments where it is excused or dismissed as harmless, particularly when tied to influential figures in music or media. You talk about Tyler’s evolution as an artist and its significance, but as Banet-Weiser suggests, this kind of growth does not erase the cultural impact of his earlier tweets and behaviors. Instead, it highlights a narrative that artists can use the foundation they build through popular misogyny and later leverage that for fame, even as they attempt to distance themselves from it. The normalization of this misogyny, as you point out in your paper, extends beyond music and into big p Polotics. Banet-Weiser helps us understand how these patterns of behavior (in Tyler's tweets and in Trump’s online speech) are not isolated incidents but rather interconnected elements of a broader acceptance of gendered power dynamics. Her insights challenge readers to question individual actions and also the systemic conditions that allow behaviors like the ones described to thrive.

    By thinking about Banet-Weisers arguments connections to Tyler, we are highlighting the importance of holding creators accountable for their actions but also for the cultural precedents that they reinforce with their language. This is a crucial step in addressing the influence of popular misogyny in society.

    NORA ELLIOTT

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