The Rise and Fall of a New Female Artist
- Kelsey Perriello
- 4 days ago
- 6 min read
A few months ago, as I watched Doechii receive the Grammy Award for Best Rap Album, I couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride. It may seem bizarre to get so emotional over a person I don’t know, but as a long-time fan, the win felt so incredibly satisfying. Over the previous months, Doechii had finally begun to get recognition for her talent, creativity, and hard work, so seeing her become the third woman ever to win the Best Rap Album Grammy was so special. Apart from the few expected misogynistic rap fans saying it wasn’t deserved, the public seemed to be in support of her accomplishment. I read and heard people discussing her dynamic performance, many hailing it the strongest of the entire awards show and finally giving her 2024 debut album Alligator Bites Never Heal the praise it long deserved. As her Spotify monthly listeners increased, her album’s ranking on the Billboard charts shot up, and the public and celebrities alike showered her with love. The first few weeks after the Grammys seemed to be Doechii’s fairytale ending to the biggest and most significant year of her career so far.
I guess I should have seen it coming. I’ve seen it happen to just about every female singer I love who blows up, but for some reason, the change still took me by surprise. I naively hoped Doechii’s skill, uniqueness, and pure passion would allow her to skip over the phase that almost inevitably comes when a female performer rises a little too fast for the public’s comfort. In what felt like a few hours, the overwhelmingly positive coverage of Doechii’s career flipped on its axis. It started with small comments questioning the authenticity of her rise. With every viral post praising her, I began to see an equally viral tweet claiming she must be an industry plant because they hadn’t heard her name prior to the Grammys. After “Anxiety,” an old freestyle of Doechii’s that remixes “Somebody that I Used to Know,” blew up on TikTok, the hate switched from a trickle to a violent flood. The dialogue had officially shifted: “The industry is clearly pushing her,” “Her flow is so copying [insert any female rapper here],” “I sense bots,” “Something fishy is clearly going on here”. No matter how much I and other fans supported her, the backlash seemed now equally as powerful as the praise. While I wish this wasn’t a tale as old as time, this rise-and-fall narrative is devastatingly common.
Since the dawn of time, or at least the dawn of social media, the public just can’t seem to accept powerful and successful women in the music industry. It’s not that female artists aren’t as talented or accomplished: some of the biggest names in music have always been women. But when fame comes fast and hard, the cycle of meteoric success followed by intense scrutiny is a pattern that has repeated itself time and again, reflecting a troubling dynamic in the way the public consumes and disposes of women in the music industry. When a fresh artist comes along, everything feels new and exciting. Her perspective or style is refreshing, and her image is novel. In recent times, think Taylor Swift, Billie Eilish, Olivia Rodrigo, Chappell Roan, and Doechii. When the public took notice, every media outlet declared them the “next big thing.” Most experienced a period of adoration when they first entered the mainstream. During this early phase, an artist is often framed as the antidote to the status quo. Taylor was a young, fresh face for female country fans in a period where older men dominated the industry. Billie’s edge and honesty made everyone, especially mentally ill angsty teenage girls (including myself), feel more heard than ever before. Chappell embracing her queerness with camp visuals and over-the-top outfits made queer fans feel unashamed and empowered. All of these artists seemed to have an ability to connect with a new generation. We call new artists innovators who are pushing the industry forward. However, the very qualities that make her appealing at first—her uniqueness, her rise to success, and her relatability—soon become the same elements used to critique her.
A woman’s success in the music industry comes with a price. As an artist continues to climb the ladder of success, their presence becomes increasingly inescapable. Radio stations increase their play time, brands begin calling to partner up and do campaigns, and the online discourse of their every move spreads. The narrative shifts from admiration to fatigue. People complain that their songs are overplayed, the critiques become 10 times harsher, and everyone seems to discuss whether their success is truly deserved. And since the early 2010s, social media often turns ruthless, manipulating the public into believing that a hard-working, original, and authentic rise is nothing but music executives pushing their agenda onto us. Moreover, the media often plays a role in constructing these arcs of adoration and backlash. Tabloids, such as The Sun and People magazine, that once heralded Taylor Swift as “America’s Sweetheart” and praised her innocent songs about high school relationships, began slut-shaming her once she dared to continue dating in her twenties. Billie, known for her baggy clothes and dark sound, was slammed as a sell-out when she embraced her femininity with her sophomore album. While both artists have had long and fruitful careers, they had to persevere through extreme scrutiny to emerge victorious. With newer artists like Chappell Roan and Doechii, who didn’t have time to build large and loyal fanbases before backlash began, their careers still remain in a precarious position where too much hate could topple everything they built—especially as queer women, with Doechii also being a woman of color. While public fatigue and reprisal with popular music artists is not exclusive to women, the level of scrutiny and dismissal female artists face is disproportionately high. Male artists are allowed to reinvent themselves, experiment with different sounds, and make mistakes without suffering the same level of fallout. For example, while Benson Boone is often teased online for certain outfit choices or people disliking his music, the online “hate” is in no way threatening to end his career or even affect his numbers or popularity, which is not the reality for most female artists.
If a female artist can withstand the backlash, she may eventually enter a new phase: the redemption arc. Once she has spent enough time away from the cultural spotlight—or suffered enough criticism—people may start to appreciate her work again. She may gain respect for persevering, proving her artistry, or simply surviving the cycle. Beyoncé, accused of being too commercial in the early 2010s, is now revered for her artistry and impact. Britney Spears, who was the industry’s and media’s favorite starlet to ridicule in the 2000s, is now a certified pop icon. And last but not least, Taylor Swift, once famously canceled in 2016, is now the biggest artist on the planet. However, the fact that female artists have to “earn back” public favor—often by proving they are more than just pop stars—underscores the double standard at play. Male artists are rarely subjected to this same rigorous cycle of rejection and redemption. Even more so, most of the female artists I listed still receive massive online hate and are often the stars of smear campaigns by the media. The most successful women in the industry still have not escaped the comparisons, questioning, and analysis of their music, bodies, voices, and talent that are cyclical in the media. This cycle is clearly rooted in broader cultural issues. American pop culture fans have long had a complicated relationship with powerful women, especially those in entertainment. Many people seem to think the young, Black, and queer Doechii should remain humble and grateful, as if her work didn’t get her to where she is today. Female artists like Doechii should be allowed to be hungry, go-getters, confident, and proud of their art and success. If there’s hope for change, it lies in recognizing these patterns and challenging the double standards that fuel them. Managers, producers, and industry executives should encourage artists to express themselves through their fashion, music, and words without fear of backlash or being restricted in their artistic freedom. Fans and critics alike must ask themselves why they are so quick to dismiss female artists after their initial success. They purport to be genuinely tired of the music, yet in reality, they are simply reacting to an ingrained cultural bias that devalues women once they reach a level of success beyond the industry's comfort zone—where female talent is celebrated only when it remains controllable, unthreatening, and disposable.
Kelsey Perriello is a sophomore in the College studying Economics and Government.