Charli XCX, Doechii and Troye Sivan are among the artists publishing essays that challenge common notions of stardom.
Charli XCX has almost as many opinions about the world as people have opinions about her. That’s what makes her such a smart pop star. She has always promoted the idea that pop is an art form worth analyzing, dissecting, and even fighting over.
That was the case in 2014, when she tweeted, “I love people who get angry over pop music,” and raved about Becky G’s undeniable pop classic “Shower.” And it still applies today when she uses Brat satirically in the part mockumentary, part concert film, part psychological thriller “The Moment.” However, the real proof might be their Substack.
Pop as an art form and a point of contention
“Another thing about being a pop star is that you can’t avoid the fact that some people are determined to prove you’re stupid,” Charli XCX wrote in the sprawling essay “The Realities of Being a Pop Star.”
When she published the post in November, several stars were already using the media platform in a similar way to publish long reflections on popularity, pop star fame, pop culture and, above all, themselves. Rosalía joined in September and wrote about the purpose of her art, but also the sadness surrounding her birthday. Tegan and Sara have been there since 2022, but mostly share voice notes instead of blocks of text. But Charli’s entry seemed to mark a shift.
Her writing took a pretty direct approach to conversations that pop stars aren’t typically invited to – and people listened. (She gained more than 17,000 subscribers in 48 hours.) The current parameters of pop observation and the content machine that fuels it online—with blind items, hate trains, and misinformation—have meant that no artist can truly control the conversation about them. They are simply intended to provide material for others to talk about.
Reclaiming your own narrative
There are numerous essays analyzing pop songs and the artists behind them, and fewer in-depth discussions on platforms like X and Reddit, not to mention speculative content on TikTok. Now several musicians are hoping to rewrite their narrative and put it in a different context through long written content.
In the first post Doechii published on Substack, “If You Were Writing to Black People, You Wouldn’t Have to Edit So Much,” she wrote. In German: “I’m tired of speaking to ‘everyone’ through my music… I only want to speak to the people who understand me the first time.” The post underscored how persistently Black women are forced to over-explain and conform in order to be accessible. Doechii can control every aspect of the music she releases, but she doesn’t have the same control over who hears it or how it is received.
Doechii and the question of accessibility
She posted her most recent Substack post, “My Shower Head Is Racist,” in December. “I love the layout of my home, designed for community but without screaming for attention,” she wrote. “Nothing here performs. It’s made for dark nights, dancing, drunk guests stumbling into corners to make out, spills and intimacy.”
In doing so, she led readers into a more complex conversation: In the essay, Doechii analyzed the shower heads in her home and those in hotels and explained how they all disturb her peace. “Because immediately, instinctively, I know: No Black woman was considered when this technology was designed,” she wrote.
Racism in everyday life
She used boldface and italics, which shift the tone in a similar way to her voice in her music. “This is about racism in technology,” she wrote, followed by a firm “(IDC IDC IDC!!!)” – which means “I don’t care” – after it. She hears the “what about…” arguments and “well, actually…” objections even before they land in her answers. It doesn’t always address the inevitable comprehension deficit, but it doesn’t require five extra paragraphs of excessive explanation.
Of course, there were still comments from people who resist critical thinking but still feel entitled to speak out. Some asked why they didn’t just go with a removable shower head to replace the fixed ones. You’re completely missing the point, which is that she shouldn’t have to.
Comment columns as counter-evidence
Another user asked if the essay was written with AI. Meanwhile, some comments on Charli XCX’s posts took serious issue with her writing, even if they disagreed. Others reinforced her point that some people are determined to prove that pop stars are stupid.
In her recent post, “The Death of Cool,” Charli recalled a concert she attended a few years ago. “The watching audience did not feel like they were part of a community that was incredibly important to them,” she wrote. “Everyone seemed untouched. Everything felt vague. It wasn’t cool.”
“The Death of Cool” and the audience
This essay also received critical comments, many of which ignored the fact that Charli XCX has been trying for years to have more nuanced conversations online about pop music, consumerism and celebrity.
“I’m really into singing songs I didn’t write right now,” Charli tweeted in 2021. “All I care about is that the art is good and makes me feel something,” she said. Two years later, on X, she predicted that pop would move toward minimalism and had a serious discussion with a fan about what that might sound like.
Between friction and resonance
There is a certain interplay that she seeks through her work, be it in music or writing. Without this friction, the already unequal exchange of time and energy between artists and audiences across different media seems pointless. Such forms of exchange used to be sufficient.
Charli has 3.8 million followers on X, compared to 73,400 on Substack. But the steady decline of what was once Twitter has stunted conversations there. The answers usually come from AI bots or provocative stan accounts.
From the decline of X to the Substack niche
Most artists hardly bother there anymore. Others only stop by occasionally. Instagram is a good medium for visual content, but there is no real conversation happening there either. Substack instead fills this gap.
“I’m going to use this as a thought repository… not unlike how I used to use tw*tter,” Troye Sivan wrote when he launched his Substack in January. His first real post was about his shower routine. After shaving, the following strict rule applies: first hair, then face, then body.
Troye Sivan between intimacy and publicity
The fact that he doesn’t have to argue with a showerhead inadvertently underscores the confrontation Doechii wrote about.
His second contribution was an essay originally titled “Fuck This Guy,” later renamed “Feeling a Bit Uggo (Ugly).” It was an unfiltered reaction to cosmetic doctor and content creator Dr Zayn, who in a video compared Sivan’s current appearance with his younger one and pointed out his “problem areas”.
Body image, criticism and control
However, the musician only mentioned this after writing extensively about his complicated relationship with his body image – something he’s privately struggled with for years.
Sivan grew up as a popular YouTuber in the 2010s before pursuing pop stardom full-time. He is no stranger to being noticed on the internet. “I am body positive at my core and believe that every body is beautiful,” he wrote, referencing his coming-of-age via Tumblr in 2012.
Between body positivity and “baby Botox”
But that’s just one perspective, “depending on what day (or hour) you catch me,” he wrote. The other is more clinical. He inquired about fat grafting under his eyes and learned that the consultation alone would cost about $3,000. At 30, he’s also the ideal age for “baby Botox,” but he’s unsure what it would look like for him.
“What is money and modern medicine for if not to fix all these flaws this random crazy plastic surgeon told me about in an Instagram reel?” wrote Sivan.
The economics of uncertainty
He changed the original title of the essay after the creator deleted the video and apologized. He continues to think about how much he always hated his red carpet photos and vacillates between accepting his body and wanting small changes.
“I’m embarrassed to say this, but I can’t promise anything,” he wrote. “Keep an eye on my dark circles for updates.”
Refuge with restrictions
Sivan’s audience on Substack is small at around 18,000 followers, compared to 7.6 million on X and 16 million on Instagram. Doechii, who documented her coming-of-age and creative journey in unfiltered YouTube vlogs before moving away from the platform, has 38,000 followers on Substack versus 329,000 on X and 5.8 million on Instagram.
The platform appears to offer pop stars a refuge and a sense of distance, if not a complete escape. As Charli
Write to create context
Can a medium like Substack help alleviate the pressure artists feel, or at least encourage audiences to have conversations about pop with a more discerning eye? It depends on everyone’s willingness to really commit.
“Sometimes I feel like people try really hard to sound like writers, with very big words,” Zara Larsson recently told ID magazine about the growing presence of pop stars on Substack. “Some are great. I love Doechiis. I really like Charlis too. But some I’m like… ‘It’s okay. Just be yourself.'”
Between authenticity and performance
Larsson doesn’t name any specific performative pop stars, but it stands to reason that some find it difficult to detach themselves from the act of performing, even when they’re not on a stage. Substack is not a private diary. The texts can be extensive, unedited and niche or precise, flawless and comprehensible. Regardless, this long-form content works best when it shares a kernel of truth. Otherwise they will just create more noise instead of breaking through it.
“I’ve always been open about my art in interviews,” Charli XCX told A Rabbit’s Foot in December. “People just weren’t listening…or I was taken out of context. Writing publicly allows me to create context.”
It’s like Doechii said in her very first Substack post: “I want to say shit once – and have it understood the first time.”
