Beyond the Binary: Reinvention, Resistance, and the Evolution of Female Voice

Sirens, saints, sinners, and witches. These figures have haunted culture for centuries ‒ and they still shape how we react to women’s voices today.

“Taylor Swift is attracting demonic forces to her concerts,” warned Father Dan Reehil, a Nashville priest and exorcist, in a recent viral headline in The Economic Times.^[1]  Such claims are common in Christian fringe groups, where pop culture is often framed as spiritually dangerous. Reehil’s warning reflects a broader pattern in which outspoken or nonconforming women are cast as morally suspect. Swift has increasingly taken control of her public image, from reclaiming her master recordings to redefining herself with each new “era”. She embodies a form of female agency that provokes opposition, particularly from conservative circles.

In a lineage that stretches from mythic sirens to pop superstars, the idea of the “witch” persists as both a slur and a symbol. While female musicians reclaim these archetypes, the fetishization remains prevalent as society still tends to marginalize women. But there’s power in that reclamation.

When Taylor Swift refers to herself as a “lonely witch” or Lady Gaga adopts the persona of “Mother Monster,” they’re engaging with a heritage of cultural suspicion, turning it into a tool of identity, creativity, and, above all, control.

Malleability as a Mandate

Songs by female artists are often regarded as a form of spellcasting, both metaphorically and, in some cases, quite literally. Women in the music industry are expected to evolve constantly, but only in ways that please. Reinvention is encouraged as long as it fits a digestible narrative. This perception is rooted in historical associations between women, music, and magic, as well as the supposedly emotional, sometimes hypnotic power of their voices. Women have long been seen as vessels for projection, treated less as individuals and more as mirrors, reflecting whatever society desires, fears or simply rejects.

Historically, women’s voices have been considered both powerful and dangerous. In Greek mythology, the Sirens used their enchanting voices to lure sailors to their deaths, making vocal seduction synonymous with destruction. Their songs were so irresistible that they drove men to madness and ruin. During the witch trials of the early modern period, women were accused of using chants in demonic rituals. This fear of women’s vocal expression has long shaped cultural anxieties, often portraying female expression as something to be wary of.

Female artists have long engaged with these themes, reworking the archetypes that once served to vilify them. Stevie Nicks’ ‘Rhiannon’ conjures the image of a mystical enchantress, while artists like Kate Bush, Björk, and Florence Welch embrace the ethereal as a source of creative power. 

Today, figures like Swift, Lady Gaga, and Beyoncé structure their careers around distinct eras; phases marked by evolving sound, style, and narrative. Transformation becomes both a strategy of artistic liberation and a response to an industry that demands reinvention while controlling its boundaries. However, those “limits” have a contradictory and fragile nature. In fact, they are often invisible until they’re crossed.

Too much ambition, sexuality, or defiance can quickly turn celebration into condemnation. Miley Cyrus’ pivot from her Hannah Montana image to hypersexual provocateur during the Bangerz era was met with widespread outrage not only over her image, but also over her claiming ownership of her body on her own terms. The moment she was perceived as too provocative, she was framed as a spectacle, not an artist. 

“Madonna has outwitted her enemies by constantly remaking herself. She’s a pagan goddess in pop clothing.”^[2]

The concept of reinvention has long been embraced by female singers such as Madonna, Cher, and Tina Turner, who have outwitted their critics by constantly reinventing themselves and resisting societal expectations. Male artists, on the other hand, have generally been celebrated for their longevity. Bruce Springsteen, for example, is praised for decades of sustained success. Meanwhile, women who defy age norms are often criticized for not “acting their age.”

The Madonna-Whore Complex: Why Women in Music Are Still Split in Two

Women in music have long been cast into a kaleidoscope of archetypes, ranging from seductive to saintly. Even in the religious sphere, the dichotomy of Eve the seductress vs. Mary the obedient was established in Christian beliefs and laid the foundation for centuries of controlling women’s images.

This binary ‒ Eve versus Mary ‒ has even deeper roots that predate Christianity. A particularly strong example of this is the contrast between Pandora and Athena. One is curious, impulsive, and emotional, while the other is rational, obedient, and aligned with male authority. These roles weren’t just descriptive but were created to stabilize male dominance by dividing and categorizing women.

These dualities mirror the Madonna-whore complex, a psychological construct often perpetuated by heterosexual, cisgender men, which places women into two rigid categories. This complex has been instrumental in shaping societal expectations of women. As Simone de Beauvoir said, women are the “other sex”. They are not thought of as individual beings, but always in relation to the male counterpart. This still existing dynamic can be seen as a cycle of oppression. Ultimately, these gendered images are social constructs, not natural laws.

Archetypes shaped by patriarchal culture were weaponized, used to define what women could and couldn’t be. They served as both moral compass and cautionary tale, framing motherhood, sexuality, and even emotion as things to be judged and controlled. Modern media still uses these tropes, be it in literature or film. These outdated binaries still shape how women are perceived in public. 

A recent example is the film Wicked (2024), where the Wicked Witch of the West, Elphaba, portrayed by Cynthia Erivo, embodies otherness and defiance in a world that punishes difference. Her supposed wickedness is not inherent but projected onto her as she’s cast as an outsider. Opposite Ariana Grande’s Glinda, who represents palatable femininity, Elphaba’s green skin and refusal to conform mark her as threatening. The film echoes the musical’s themes of marginalization, reframing her rejection as a source of power.

The good news is that more and more artists ‒ and everyday people ‒ are breaking and outgrowing these molds. At the same time, public figures often reinforce traditional gender roles under the guise of cultural critique. American far-right commentator and author Candace Owens, known for her controversial social media presence, famously stated: “There is no society that can survive without strong men. The East knows this. In the West, the steady feminization of our men at the same time that Marxism is being taught to our children is not a coincidence. It is an outright attack. Bring back manly men.”^[3]

In recent years, some male artists who have challenged conventional ideas of masculinity have also faced scrutiny. Harry Styles, for instance, has received both praise and outrage for wearing clothing traditionally associated with femininity and embracing a more fluid expression of gender. The reactions peaked with his 2020 Vogue cover, for which he wore a dress, marking a bold departure from his image as a former boy band heartthrob. While many celebrated the shoot as a progressive moment in mainstream fashion and a step toward challenging toxic masculinity, it also sparked negative responses, with some critics accusing Styles of defying the idea of “manly men”. This backlash underscores how deeply entrenched gender expectations remain. Similarly, Sam Smith, who identifies as non-binary and frequently challenges traditional gender norms through their appearance and performances, has been the target of intense media mockery. 

Ironically, male rockstars like members of Kiss or David Bowie wore heavy makeup and flamboyant outfits for decades without facing the same level of public outrage. Yet today, when a man outside of a specific cultural context wears a skirt or dress, it still causes a stir.  Expressions of gender are still heavily policed, even more so when they’re seen as genuine rather than performative.

Backlash, Boundaries, and Being “Woman’d”

Today, we’re witnessing a powerful cultural shift. Of course, there have always been exceptions like Debbie Harry, Patti Smith, and Cyndi Lauper who embraced contradiction. But now, more than ever, there’s a growing wave of artists claiming the freedom to be messy, complex, refusing to be put in boxes.

Singer and songwriter Lola Young can be described as anything except a mainstream polished singer. The 24-year-old singer is known for her candor, with her inescapable hit ‘Messy’ she uses a self-deprecating checklist. She finds strength in embracing her imperfections. Despite not fitting the typical commercial image, favoring a grittier, more grounded look over polished pop star glamour, Young is quickly becoming one of the UK’s most compelling breakout artists. With shaved eyebrows and a raw, unfiltered performance style, she defies visual expectations often placed on rising female stars.

Upon achieving huge success since last December, she has faced online criticism, including claims of being an “industry plant”. She has also been subjected to comments calling her “incredibly unlikeable” and remarks about her looks. This “vibe-based” hatred is what’s now known as being “woman’d”. Emerging from online feminist spaces, the term “woman’d” is a phrase that crystallizes a longstanding social dynamic of women being disliked, punished, or dismissed for failing to meet vague, gendered expectations of likability, humility, or appearance. The phenomenon is not limited to pop music. It gained momentum particularly in the last two years amid rising conversations about gendered criticism of public figures like Greta Gerwig, especially after the success of the Barbie movie.

Artist Doechii refuses to tone herself down to fit industry molds. She is showing that genuine creativity can flourish in today’s music scene without relying on mainstream formulas. Tracks like ‘Denial Is A River’ and ‘Boom Bap’, where she declares herself “I’m everything!” channel both chaos and control, turning versatility into a kind of power. Doechii’s ‘Anxiety’ is about her struggles with worrying and the physical and mental symptoms of anxiety. With this release she is contributing to a broader trend of artists opening up about trauma and mental health. As a female rapper, Doechii’s impact stretches beyond her sound ‒ she’s also paving the way for broader visibility and freedom for women in music. Her refusal to conform opens the door for a more expansive representation of womanhood in rap ‒ one that allows for messiness, softness, sensuality, and control to coexist. 

With her drag-inspired aesthetic, pop star Chappell Roan is not afraid to be absurd; in fact, she embraces contradictions. The queer pop singer has recently topped charts and faced a lot of backlash. Her decision to set boundaries and prioritize mental health has been sharply criticized. She is part of a group of celebrities challenging gendered expectations. Like other successful women, she faces intense online criticism that goes beyond valid critique. As a woman, she is held to gendered stereotypes of being agreeable and supportive, and when she violates these expectations (e. g. by taking a nuanced political stance or setting boundaries), she receives a greater degree of negative feedback. Her refusal to be soft-spoken or “marketable” makes her powerful and polarizing at the same time. Her openness about her struggles and setting boundaries also contributes to her perceived “authenticity”. While not unique to Roan, her candidness in this context of intense scrutiny and pushback highlights the evolving relationship between artists and the public. Chappell Roan belongs to the wave of rising artists who are challenging norms, particularly regarding the role of pop stars and women in the public eye. 

But this resistance isn’t limited to women exclusively. Artists like Conchita Wurst, who gained international attention after winning Eurovision in 2014 with a glamorous bearded drag persona, also disrupted conventional ideas of gender and presentation, sparking both celebration and controversy. These artists demonstrate how anyone who refuses to conform to traditional gender roles risks scrutiny, but also, and maybe more importantly, creates space for more inclusive definitions of identity and artistry. Together, these singers don’t perform femininity to be palatable; they perform it to be powerful, empowering. 

Gender stereotypes influence expectations about women’s behavior, treatment but also opportunities. Research consistently shows that female performers are more often judged by their appearance, behavior, and conformity to gender norms than their male counterparts. A report from the Annenberg Inclusion Initiative published in February 2019, that investigates the barriers and opportunities experienced by women in the music industry, states that stereotyping and sexualization are identified as significant factors contributing to women not being taken seriously in the music industry.^[4] “Stereotyped & Sexualized” represents a major barrier reported by nearly 40 % of female songwriters and producers interviewed. This includes being sexualized, receiving undesired attention, being propositioned, and being valued for their appearance rather than their talent. The report states that simply being a woman is a barrier to career success. Interviewees reported that their competence and expertise were often doubted, requiring them to continually prove themselves to colleagues. Furthermore, the research suggests that placing an emphasis on a woman’s appearance can diminish perceptions of her competence and ‘warmth’. The latter is cited as a key component of traditional female gender roles. The objectification of women, where they are viewed primarily as bodies rather than individuals, reinforces the dismissal of their contributions and ideas. This creates a work environment in which women may feel that their talent and expertise go unrecognized. The report further suggests that the low percentage of women in roles such as songwriting and production is a direct consequence of an industry that fails to value them in these positions, leading to experiences of dismissal and isolation.

A very Brat Year: Nonconformity as Power

In a world that expects women to accommodate themselves to public consumption, the “Brat” aesthetic celebrates the opposite: raw, chaotic, and unfiltered.

Embracing imperfections has been the hymn of 2024, and it’s echoing into 2025. Even those outside the music world have likely heard of Brat Summer, especially as it collided with politics. Vice President Kamala Harris’s campaign embraced the aesthetic, memes proliferated, and the campaign account on X even declared itself “Brat-coded”.

But Brat began as something more personal. Born from British pop star Charli XCX’s album of the same name, its neon-lime cover became an icon. The “Brat” aesthetic can be described as grungy and chaotic, borrowing elements from TikTok trends. It involves sweaty, party-girl chaos, smudged eyeliner, and Y2K inspiration ‒ referring to fashion and cultural trends popular around the early 2000s. It’s above all characterized by a confident, independent, and hedonistic attitude and involves being a bit messy and volatile. The aesthetic has evolved from the album cover to a whole lifestyle embraced by both Gen Z and millennials. The word “Brat” was even announced as Collins Dictionary’s 2024 word of the year. More than just an aesthetic, it’s a rejection of perfection.

Reinvention as a double-edged sword: Survival vs. Creative Freedom

It’s no longer virgin vs. whore. It’s both ‒ and everything in between.

In fact, shapeshifting is expected from women. We see it again and again. Taylor Swift has made an art of it: from country ingénue to anti-hero. But this reinvention is double-edged. Society demands transformation, then critiques women for being “calculated” or “inauthentic”. Shapeshifting is a performance of power but also a survival tactic in a world that won’t let women simply be. Swift’s Eras Tour embodies precisely this: a career told in costumes and codes. She’s not just performing her songs; she’s performing versions of herself. And the same logic extends beyond the stage.  

As Sady Doyle writes in Dead Blondes and Bad Mothers: Monstrosity, Patriarchy and the Fear of Female Power: “The witch has always been the feminist monster of choice.”^[5]

Much like Elphaba, today’s female artists are reclaiming what once made them threatening, using their voices not to soothe, but to empower. They reject the roles of agreeable pop singers, choosing instead to be loud, imperfect, and raw. Rather than conforming to a clean-cut image, rising female artists are taking up space by being layered, and deliberately unfiltered.

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^[1] The Economic Times, 2^nd of January 2024. https://economictimes.indiatimes.com/news/international/us/taylor-swift-is-attracting-demonic-forces-to-her-concerts-warns-exorcist-know-why-he-has-advised-to-skip-her-live-performance/articleshow/106493069.cms?from=mdr

^[2] Camille Paglia, Sex, Art, and American Culture: Essays, New York, Knopf Doubleday, 1992.

^[3] Candace Owens [@RealCandaceO] on X, November 14, 2020. https://x.com/RealCandaceO/status/1327691891303976961?lang=en

^[4] Stacy L. Smith, Marc Choueiti, Katherine Pieper, et al., Inclusion in the recording studio? Examining 700 popular songs. USC Annenberg Inclusion Initiative, 2019. https://assets.uscannenberg.org/docs/aii-inclusion-recording-studio-2019.pdf

^[5] Jude Ellison S. Doyle, Dead Blondes and Bad Mothers: Monstrosity, Patriarchy and the Fear of Female Power, New York, Melville House, 2019.

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Lisa Gardin is an aspiring history teacher with a European cultural background and a keen interest in media and film. In her spare time, she devotes herself to illustration.