âI want to first thank Billboard from the bottom of my heart, for this honor, and for naming me as their woman of the decade. So, what does it mean to be the woman of this decade? Well, it means Iâve seen a lot. When this decade began, I was 20 years old, and Iâd just put out my self-titled debut album when I was 16, and then the album that would become my breakthrough album, which was called Fearless. And I saw that there was a world of music, and experience beyond country music, that I was really curious about. I saw pop stations send my songs Love Story and You Belong With Me to #1 for the first time. And I saw that as a female in this industry, some people will always have slight reservations about you: whether you deserve to be there, whether your male producer or cowriter is the reason for your success, or whether it was a savvy record label â it wasnât. I saw that people love to explain away a womanâs success in the music industry, and I saw something in me change due to this realization. This was the decade that I became a mirror for my detractors: Whatever they decided I couldnât do is exactly what I did. Whatever they criticized about me became material for musical satires or inspirational anthems, and the best lyrical examples I can think of are songs like Mean, Shake It Off, and Blank Space; basically, if people had something to say about me, I usually said something back, in my own way. And this reflex dictated more than just my lyrics. When Fearless did win Album of the Year at the Grammys, and I did become the youngest solo artist to ever win the award, with that win, came criticism and backlash in 2010 that Iâd never experienced before as a young, new artist. All of a sudden, people had doubts about my singing voice, was it strong enough, was I a little bit pitchy? All of a sudden they werenât sure if I was the one writing the song because sometimes in the past I had had cowriters in the room. At that time, I couldnât understand why this wave of harsh criticism had hit me so hard. I believe a popular headline back then was âa Swift Backlash,â which is clever â you gotta give it to them. And now I realized that this is just what happens to a woman in music if she achieves success or power beyond peopleâs comfort level. I now have come to expect that with good news comes some sort of pushback, but I didnât know that then. So then, I decided that I would be the only songwriter on my third album, Speak Now, and that I would tour constantly, work on my vocals every day, and perfect my stamina in a live show. I decided I would be what they said I couldnât be. I didnât know then that soon enough people would decide on something else I wasnât quite doing right, and the circle would keep going on and on, and rolling along, and I would keep accommodating, overcorrecting, in an effort to appease my critics. Theyâre saying Iâm dating too much in my 20s? Okay! Iâll stop and just be single â for years. Now theyâre saying my album Red is filled with too many break-up songs? Okay! Iâll make one about moving to New York, and deciding that really my life is more fun with just my friends. Oh, theyâre saying my music is changing too much for me to stay in country music? Alright, okay, hereâs an entire genre shift, and a pop album called 1989. Oh, you heard it? Sick! Now itâs that Iâm showing you too many pictures of me with my friends. Okay, I can stop doing that too. Now Iâm actually a calculated manipulator rather than a smart business woman? Okay, Iâll disappear from public view â for years. Now Iâm being cast as a villain to you? Okay, hereâs an album called reputation and there are lots of snakes everywhere. In the last 10 years, I have watched as women in this industry are criticized and measured up to each other and picked at for their bodies and their romantic lives and their fashion. Or have you ever heard someone say about a male artist, âI really like his songs, but I donât know what it is. Thereâs just something about him I just donât like?â No â that criticism is reserved for us. But you know, Iâve learned that the difference between those who can continue to create in that climate usually comes down to this: who lets that scrutiny break them, and who just keeps making art. Iâve watched as one of my favorite artists of this decade, Lana Del Rey, was ruthlessly criticized in her early career, and then slowly but surely, she turned into, in my opinion, the most influential artist in pop. Her vocal stylings, her lyrics, her aesthetics. Theyâve been echoed and repurposed in every corner of music, and this year, her incredible album is nominated for Album of the Year at the Grammys because she just kept making art. And that example should inspire all of us, that the only way forward is forward motion. That we shouldnât let obstacles like criticism slow down the creative forces that drive us. And I see that fire in the newer faces in our music industry, whose work I absolutely love. I see it in Lizzo, Rosalia, Tayla Parx, Hayley Kiyoko, King Princess, Camila Cabello, Halsey, Megan Thee Stallion, Princess Nokia, Nina Nesbitt, Sigrid, Normani, H.E.R., Maggie Rogers, Becky G., Dua Lipa, Ella Mai, Billie Eilish, and so many other amazing women who are making music right now. Female artists have dominated this decade in growth, streaming, record and ticket sales, and critical acclaim. So why are we doing so well? Because we have to grow fast, we have to work this hard, we have to prove that we deserve this, and we have to top our last achievements. Women in music, onstage, or behind the scenes, are not allowed to coast. We are held at a higher, sometimes impossible-feeling standard. And it seems that my fellow female artists have taken this challenge, and they have accepted it. It seems like the pressure that couldâve crushed us made us into diamonds instead, and what didnât kill us actually did make us stronger. But we need to keep advocating for women in the recording studios, behind the mixing board, in A&R meetings, because rather than fighting to be taken seriously in their fields, these women are still struggling to have a chance to even be in the room. We now find ourselves fully immersed in a vast frontier that wasnât around last decade, and that is the streaming world. In music, weâre always walking hand in hand with technology, and sometimes that is so awesome, like how now weâre able to just drop a song that we made yesterday. Iâve spoken out in the past about the future of revenue flow for creators, songwriters, and producers who are being left behind due to these rapid shifts and changes. I still donât think that record contracts or producersâ agreements have fully aught up, and I hope that in the next decade, we can keep searching for the right solution for producers, songwriters, and creators. Donât you? Lately, thereâs been a new shift that has affected me personally, and that I feel is a potentially harmful force in our industry. And as your resident loud person, I feel the need to bring it up. And that is the unregulated world of private equity coming in, and buying up our music, as if it is real estate, as if itâs an app, or a shoe line. This just happened to me without my approval, consultation, or consent. After I was denied the chance to purchase my music outright, my entire catalog was sold to Scooter Braunâs Ithaca Holdings in a deal Iâm told was funded by the Soros family, 23 Capital, and the Carlyle Group. To this day, none of these investors have ever bothered to contact me or my team directly, to perform their due diligence on their investment, on their investment in me, to ask how I might feel about the new owner of my art, the music I wrote, videos I created, photos of me, my handwriting, my album designs. And of course Scooter never contacted me or my team to discuss it prior to the sale, or even when it was announced. Iâm fairly certain he knew how I would feel about it, though, and let me just say that the definition of the toxic male privilege in our industry is people saying, âBut heâs always been nice to me!â when Iâm raising valid concerns about artists and their right to own their music. And of course heâs nice to you. If youâre in this room, you have something he needs. The fact is that private equity is what enabled this man to think, according to his own social media post, that he could âbuy me,â but Iâm obviously not going willingly. Yet the most amazing thing was to discover that it would be the women in our industry who would have my back, and who would show me the most vocal support at one of the most difficult times and I will never ever forget it, like ever. But to conclude, I will say that in 10 years, I have seen forward steps in our industry. In our awareness, our inclusion, or ability to start calling out unfairness and misconduct. Iâve seen the advent of social media, the way it can boost the breakthrough of emerging artists. And Iâve seen fans become more engaged and supportive than ever before. Iâve leaned on that support, and it has kept me in a place where, no matter what I always wanted to keep making music for them. I was up on a stage in New York City in 2014, accepting Billboard Woman of the Year, and I was talking about the future of streaming, how we needed to make sure that the female artists, writers, and producers of the next generation were protected and compensated fairly. This was before my record deal with Universal last year that would contractually guarantee that the artists on their roster be paid upon any sale of their Spotify shares, unrecoupable, so thank you for that. This speech Iâm referring to was on my 25th birthday, and Iâm about to turn 30 tonight! But my exact quote during this speech was, âI really just feel like we need to continue to try to offer something to a younger generation of musicians. Because somewhere, right now, your future Woman of the Year is probably sitting in a piano lesson, or in a girlsâ choir, and today, right now, we need to take care of her.â Iâve since learned that at that exact moment, an 11-year-old girl in California really was taking piano lessons, and really as in a girlsâ choir. And this year, she has been named Woman of the Year, at the age of 17. Her name is Billie. And those are the stories we need to think about every day as we do our jobs within this industry. The ones where peopleâs dreams come true and they get to create music and play it for people. The ones where fans feel a connection to music that makes their day easier, makes their night more fun, makes their love feel more sacred or their heartache feel less isolating. The ones where all of you in this room stand as an example for someone else in the next generation who loves the same thing that we love: music. And no matter what else enters the conversation we will always bring it back to music. And as for me, lately Iâve been focusing less on doing what they say I canât do and more on doing whatever the hell I want. Thank you for a magnificent, happy, free, confused, sometimes lonely, but mostly golden decade. Iâm honored to be here tonight, I feel very lucky to be with you, thank you so much.â
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