The person inside the pop star

We might not readily admit it, but between classes, it’s the words of pop stars, not philosophers, that we mutter absentmindedly under our breath. If we are unaware of this, the stars are not—between Twitter, live appearances, and perfume lines, their guidance is ubiquitous these days. Journalists label their outfits as agents of social change, and each single they release is a by-product of their constructed personas. As performers, they speak almost philosophically about their work, which ultimately and predominantly focuses on self-expression. In a gesture paradoxically both solipsistic and democratizing, they are now using the effort they put into crafting their self-images to help us develop our own. It is, in part, a public project inspiring to the self-satisfied and self-loathing alike. And because so many artists are doing this at once, we get a panoramic view of the routes to self-acceptance.

Four female pop stars have recently enjoyed commercial and critical success in songs that encourage unconditional self-acceptance: Katy Perry’s “Firework,” Kesha’s “We R Who We R,” Pink’s “Perfect,” and Lady Gaga’s “Born This Way.” Each comes immediately on the heels of a successful single about partying and living irresponsibly. They share overwrought vocals and under-developed metaphors, and, unlike Christina Aguilera’s “Beautiful,” each song was at least co-written by the artist. Kesha said that she was inspired by teenage bullying and her own negative reviews to write something about “celebrating herself.” Pink speaks to her unborn daughter in “Perfect,” and Lady Gaga hopes to spread her “The Secret”-inspired agenda of self-manifestation to her fans. Each writes candidly about herself for the sake of someone else because, as David Bowie and Madonna established, the most self-referential songs are ultimately the easiest for listeners to identify with. For all the access we have to their private lives through the paparazzi, the stars have the last word—and determinedly and effectively use it for good.

These women take calculated risks in style and in speech, and while an aspect of their lyrics and images is shameless commercialism, they’re now competing to subvert the trends, not set them. Competition between them, while petty (when one woman wears a blue wig, the other wears blue lipstick), forces them to resort even further to their personal and remembered eccentricities. They appear to egg each other on to come out with something more challenging or childlike than the last, all the while revealing more about themselves. While students tend to hide any uncertainty behind new terminology and noncommittal opinions, these singers admit that they don’t know themselves any better than we do. Lady Gaga’s innate and overpowering self-consciousness overtakes the most contrived of her outfits, and she uses it almost combatively to justify her wide appeal. If she can love herself, she seems to ask, why can’t we love her? With “Born This Way,” the question reverses: If we can love her, can’t we love ourselves?

Regardless of their prodigal self-aggrandization, the songs are rampantly imperfect. However noble her inspiration, Kesha has yet to convince us that behind her glitter and hot pants, she takes herself and these themes seriously. Pink is still relying on shock value, including the expletive in one version of her song title, to take away from the tiredness of her themes. Katy Perry’s “Firework” idea ultimately founds self-love on the approval of others. Lady Gaga’s argument that “I’m beautiful in my way / ’Cause God makes no mistakes” holds up only if we give up the conception of free will and consequent responsibility. Luckily, perfection and coherence are not prerequisites for self-love, despite what student life might suggest.

Psychologist Joyce Brothers said that “a positive self-image is the best preparation for success,” and these women are most successful in self-promotion. Words about feeling inadequate or estranged would not seem quite as credible from a Britney Spears or Jessica Simpson because after taking the spotlight, Perry, Pink, Gaga and Kesha believed that they still had something left to say.

Even when their circumstances aren’t immediately analogous to ours, we can admire that their self-acceptance didn’t come easily. Their progress is public and poignant—a year ago, Lady Gaga’s costumes seemed to have been constructed solely to hide her face, which now appears, minimally augmented, on the cover of Vogue.

It’s unsurprising that these songs would come out in the wake of bullying, suicide, unemployment, and economic failure in the news. It’s unsurprising that these women would take a shortcut from self-knowledge to unconditional self-acceptance. From pop stars to students, it may be a uniquely female capacity to offer both the harshest criticism and the strongest support. But by example, these women encourage a kind of intimacy and identification with their work that is ultimately imitable by any woman who still considers herself a learner.

Zeba Ahmad is a Barnard College junior majoring in psychology and philosophy. Any Road Will Take You There runs alternate Thursdays.