Taylor Swift sat down with the Guardian for her first major U.K. interview in years, and over the course of the conversation, she opened up about pretty much everything fans have wanted to ask her over the last several years. Swift went into detail about her political views and why it took her so long to speak out about them; she explained why she’s been so protective of her relationship with actor Joe Alwyn; and she even shared her thoughts on the pop music industry and how it can feel like The Hunger Games sometimes.
During the interview, Swift focuses a lot on 2016—a rough year for her, during which she had some public feuds with Katy Perry, Nicki Minaj, and Kanye West and Kim Kardashian. She had previously said in interviews that “an artist fails when they lose their self-awareness,” and she’s asked if she feels she’d made the same mistake during her career.
“I definitely think that sometimes you don’t realize how you’re being perceived,” she said. “Pop music can feel like it’s The Hunger Games, and like we’re gladiators. And you can really lose focus of the fact that that’s how it feels because that’s how a lot of stan [fan] Twitter and tabloids and blogs make it seem – the overanalyzing of everything makes it feel really intense.”
From there on, Swift launches into even more details about aspects of her career and her time in public view. The entire piece is full of nuance, and you can read it here. In the meantime, here’s what we learned about Swift:
Why she’s protective of her relationship with Joe Alywn:“I’ve learned that if I do [talk about the relationship], people think it’s up for discussion, and our relationship isn’t up for discussion,” she said. “If you and I were having a glass of wine right now, we’d be talking about it—but it’s just that it goes out into the world. That’s where the boundary is, and that’s where my life has become manageable. I really want to keep it feeling manageable.”
How she overcome one of her toughest years:“You can either stand there and let the wave crash into you, and you can try as hard as you can to fight something that’s more powerful and bigger than you… Or you can dive under the water, hold your breath, wait for it to pass and while you’re down there, try to learn something. Why was I in that part of the ocean? There were clearly signs that said: Rip tide! Undertow! Don’t swim! There are no lifeguards!”
“Why was I there? Why was I trusting people I trusted?” she said. “Why was I letting people into my life the way I was letting them in? What was I doing that caused this?”
What she’s learned about her own privilege:Swift said that she’s come to understand “a lot about how my privilege allowed me to not have to learn about white privilege. I didn’t know about it as a kid, and that is privilege itself, you know? And that’s something that I’m still trying to educate myself on every day. How can I see where people are coming from, and understand the pain that comes with the history of our world?”
Why she sued radio DJ David Mueller, who touched her ass at a meet-and–greet event.“Having dealt with a few of them, narcissists basically subscribe to a belief system that they should be able to do and say whatever the hell they want, whenever the hell they want to,” she said. “And if we—as anyone else in the world, but specifically women—react to that, well, we’re not allowed to. We’re not allowed to have a reaction to their actions.”
Campaigns are like marathons: Both are races, with a distant finish line on the horizon. Both are slogs, the kind that can drive someone blind with delirium and push her harder than she believed possible. Both are a process and a practice and an ordeal. So to complete one, whether it lasts 26.2 miles or 18 months, much of the same advice applies: Hit the trail. Drink a lot of water. And if at all possible, run with a friend.
This November, a record number of women will run for office—not just for the House of Representatives or the Senate, but for school boards and in gubernatorial races, too. Not all will win, but if even some fraction of them succeeds, legislative bodies will look (and likely vote) differently than they do now. In a midterm preview, Reuterstook Michigan as an example: In 2016, just 23 percent of lawmakers across the state were women. In 2018, women are on the ballot in 63 percent of state senate seats and 71 percent of state house seats. If trends hold, Reuters anticipates that women could make up to 40 percent of the state legislature, an all-time record.
The promise of a female-led political movement has incentivized a not unprecedented, but noticeable collaborative spirit between women candidates. Michigan’s Rashida Tlaib, who is poised to become the first Muslim woman ever in the House of Representatives if she wins in November (which is all but certain considering she has no Republican opponent) has stumped for Ilhan Omar, the Somali-American who could share that title with her if she wins in Minnesota. Deb Haaland, who’s running for a House seat in New Mexico and is Native American, has gone on the road with Sharice Davids, also a Native woman, who is up for a seat in Kansas.
Amanda Litman, the co-founder and executive director of Run for Something, an organization that aims to recruit and support progressive candidates, has come to see relationships like these as a measure of campaign preparedness. When the PAC endorses candidates, Litman connects them over Slack—an internal messaging platform—to others in similar races, people who understand the particularities and peculiarities of electoral politics.
“I once saw a tweet that was like, ‘Behind every strong woman is a really powerful group text,’ and I think that’s true,” Litman tells Glamour. “When a woman decides to run for office, a lot of people will tell her no. It makes it that much more important to have a friend in her corner who just looks at her and tells her, ‘I know this race. Yes.’”
Ahead of the midterm elections, Glamour spoke to 13 women about female friendship in politics. What follows are excerpts from our conversations.
Mikie Sherrill, Amy McGrath, and Elaine Luria
Sherrill, McGrath, and Luria—all graduates from the Naval Academy and now Democratic candidates for the U.S. House—are three in a wave of female veterans candidates on the ballot. In separate phone interviews over the summer, each quoted the Academy’s mission: to develop leaders for “the highest responsibilities of command, citizenship and government.”
Six of the women veterans on the ballot in November keep up via text thread, including Navy Academy alumnae Mikie Sherrill, Amy McGrath, and Elaine Luria.
Sherrill (NJ-11): I entered the race in May 2017, and I did not know that other women that went to the Naval Academy were running. When Amy announced, someone sent me a link to her video. Like, “Look! Another woman like you!” It just blew me away. We got in touch shortly thereafter.
Luria (VA-2): Amy and I were in the same class at the [Naval] Academy. Mikie was three years ahead of us. I didn’t know Mikie at the time, but now we realize that we have lots of friends in common because it’s not that big of a school and also, there were only about 100 women per class back then. Everyone knew who all the other women were. The first class of women started in 1976 and graduated in 1980, and there were 55 women. I graduated in 1997, as did Amy, and there were 115 of us in our class. (There were about 1,200 men.) We crossed paths a lot, but we didn’t know each other even as well then as we do now.
Amy decided to run last summer well before I had made the decision to do this, but in between, we had our 20th reunion at the Naval Academy. I was so proud of her—that she’d launched her campaign, and it was gaining a lot of traction. We had a little get-together with some other classmates, and she told us all about the race, the challenges, the path ahead that she saw. It was really encouraging.
I wrote to Amy before I made the announcement publicly. “I’m gonna do it!” She’s got young kids. I have a daughter who is nine, and we’re both in similar situations where our husbands have also served. That’s what we talked about the most. How are you doing this? How do you balance this?
McGrath (KY-6): I remember that. Elaine was still deciding, and I did not want to push her in either direction because it’s not a simple decision. I just wanted to be there for Elaine to tell her, “If you want to do this, I’m with you.”
We’re both in hard races, so we don’t have time to talk all the time, but I love that she’s out there. And Mikie was in this even before I was. It’s awesome to have a support network of female veterans. And it’s not just us. It’s Chrissy Houlahan. It’s Abigail Spanberger. Once, a bunch of us were passing through D.C. for an event, and we just sat down over a glass of wine. The release of tension—we can talk about the issues, what it’s like to be a veteran in politics, what it’s like to be a woman. We talk about all the people who come up to us and tell us, “I can’t vote for you because you’re the mother of small children.” It happens!
Recently, an ad came out against me that said, “Amy McGrath is a feminist!” This was what was used to attack me. When that aired, we all texted back and forth, like, “Is that the best he can do?”
Sherrill: If one of us wins a primary or gets an endorsement, there’s that text. But sometimes it’s phone calls about how to communicate with voters or how to reach people in our districts. We’re women—we know how to build consensus, work in coalition.
McGrath: Recently, an ad came out against me that said, “Amy McGrath is a feminist!” This was what was used to attack me. When that aired, we all texted back and forth, like, “Is that the best he can do?” It’s that kind of camaraderie, which we’re used to because women who’ve served do have to have a thick skin.
When I was a kid, I had this dream: I wanted to be a fighter pilot. I learned I couldn’t do that because there was a federal law prohibiting women from those roles. I got lucky in 1997. We had a new administration, with President Bill Clinton in his second term and a new Congress. Doors were now open for women in combat. Mikie, Elaine, and I arrived at the Naval Academy at a time when we could exit from there with all the doors open to us. When we started before we had those opportunities, there were men who believed that we had taken a seat from a man. We weren’t going to be able to serve like a man could serve, so we were sort of robbing the taxpayers of that investment. I think we look at this and go, “Nope. You got your investment out of us. We served, and we’re here. Now we’re running.”
Rep. Debbie Dingell and Rep. Barbara Comstock
Both Rep. Dingell (D-MI) and Rep. Barbara Comstock (R-VA) were elected to the House of Representatives in 2015.
“You can tell we’re really good friends,” Rep. Dingell explains, a moment before she has to leave Rep. Comstock on the line and go vote on a bill. “Because I just let her talk for me!”
PHOTO: NBC NewsWire
Rep. Debbie Dingell (L) and Rep. Barbara Comstock (R) in a joint appearance on Meet the Press in November 2017.
Rep. Comstock: Gosh, we met so long ago when I was still staff on the Hill and Debbie worked and her husband, of course, was a member. We really got to know each other well because both of us liked to have these bipartisan women’s lunches with people that we all knew in Washington. A late friend of ours used to say, “Washington isn’t Democrats vs. Republicans. It’s men vs. women.”
Once we were both elected in 2015, we found a lot of common ground on issues that do tend to affect women—breast cancer research and now sexual harassment.
Rep. Dingell: Barbara and I have been friends for decades, I think because we saw early in our careers that women needed to support each other. There weren’t many women back then, period. We were always two of a few women in the room. Neither Barbara nor I drop people! So we’ve kept up with each other all this time. We may not agree on all the issues but we do agree on supporting women and that friendship really matters.
“Washington isn’t Democrats vs. Republicans. It’s men vs. women.”
I’ll just add that when I was first elected, it was a really hard time for me. My husband [Rep. John Dingell, who represented Michigan in Congress for almost six decades] was in the hospital, and I was trying to adjust to a new job, take care of him, get everything in order, and Barbara knew what I was going through and checked in on me. I remember the afternoon she said, “You have to leave the hospital,” and we met at McClean Family Restaurant [in McClean, Virginia], and she said, “This is a mental health break.”
Rep. Comstock: We have tremendous mutual respect, and we share a worldview when it comes to values, when it comes to women at work. From the floors of factories to the boardrooms, we want to make sure that women’s voices are heard.
Jessica Ramos and Alessandra Biaggi
Both Democratic New York State Senate candidates, Ramos and Biaggi won their respective primaries, defeating entrenched (male) incumbents. Jeff Klein, whom Biaggi opposed, spent $3 million on the race. She won with 54 percent of the vote.
Alessandra Biaggi and Jessica Ramos met at a No IDC NY activist meet-up at the start of their respective bids for New York State Senate.
Ramos (District 13): I met Alessandra around nine months ago, or so. We were professional women who wanted to challenge these men in power whom we felt didn’t represent us at all. In New York, they’re called the Independent Democratic Conference, but they’re Democrats in name alone. They really vote like Republicans.
Biaggi (District 34): Because we were running against these candidates, it made sense to know each other. And then people started to endorse us as a pair, which was kind of great. I knew I think from the start that I could learn a lot from Jessica. She has experience in government, and she’s a mom, which I think is heroic. I’m engaged and I said to her, “I barely see my fiancé.” The fact that she has kids is remarkable. She’s shown me that as women, we don’t have to segment our lives to run our shelve our other responsibilities somewhere else. We incorporate our lives into these races, because our families and our friends and are our communities are the reason we’re in this.
Ramos: We can be each other’s cheerleaders, and not just because we’re both women, but because when it comes down to it, I don’t want to work with the incumbent. I want to work with Alessandra Biaggi. That’s who I want to pass laws with. That’s who I trust. I may not be able to vote for her because I live in another district. And I may not be able to contribute to her campaign because I haven’t seen a paycheck in months, which is part of running for office, but I am sure as hell her biggest cheerleader.
Biaggi: When I can’t sleep at night, I scroll through Twitter. Recently, I saw that Jessica’s opponent posted a video that was outrageous. The lies! It made me want to crack my phone in half. So I retweeted the video, and I said something like, “These are lies! Vote for Jessica!” I think I said, “Is this a joke?” I couldn’t believe it.
Ramos: That was hilarious, Alessandra. That is so representative. Alessandra is just like this. Sometimes, when I just can’t find it in me, I’m so tired, I’m so exhausted, I think about Alessandra. I do. I hear her, over my shoulder, like, “Go finish door-knocking in that building, Jessica. Go make 10 more calls.” She makes me better.
Ashley Selmon and Zahra Suratwala
Selmon and Suratwala are running for DuPage County Board in Illinois. “At times, I do feel discouraged,” Selmon says. “Like, when party leadership tells us we need to raise unfathomable amounts of money, and I’m looking at our account, and I’m like we’re not quite there! But I have Zahra, and we have this, and we have all these volunteers and all this enthusiasm. I think about that and I can’t help but believe what we want to achieve is possible.”
Ashley Selmon and Zahra Suratwala, candidates for the DuPage County Board, realized fast that collaboration could boost their chances at the ballot box.
Suratwala: We met after we both had decided to run back in September 2017, and we met because there are two seats on the board that will open in November, so we were introduced to each other. We text all the time, especially because campaign season is heating up and there are like 100 decisions to be made per second. Who can print yard signs? Who was that person who said she’d host a meet-and-greet for us? It’s just a constant stream of communication going on between us. But it’s wonderful because it means the work is divided in half. Whoever can take something on does, and as much as we ask each other to help out, we know we’re also both giving 100 percent.
Selmon: In a way, our friendship is a big part of our approach. Where we live, there’s one Democrat on this 18-seat board. If people don’t know the candidates on the ballot, in this area, they’ll just pick Republican. It makes sense to let voters know about both of us, have our faces and names together, so that voters are motivated to turn out for us. Zahra will never take credit for this, but after we won in the primary, I moved and had to have surgery. In any other timeline, I would have incredibly stressed about being out of pocket for a month in the middle of campaigning. But I knew Zahra would look at the emails and would text me if she needed me. She’s what I never could have expected when I decided to do this. And knowing what I know now, I never could have done it without her.
Liuba Grechen Shirley and Christine Pellegrino
Grechen Shirley is a progressive candidate for the U.S. House, who notably won a petition to the FEC that allowed her to spend campaign funds on childcare. Pellegrino beat a Republican in a deep red district in a special election in May 2017. She is now a member of the New York State Assembly.
“We take selfies all the time. At events, people come over and offer to take our photo, and we’re just like, ‘No, no, we’ll take a selfie,’” Grechen Shirley tells me. It was Pellegrino’s idea: “I wanted a record—we did this together.”
Christine Pellegrino, a member of the New York States Assembly, and Liuba Grechen Shirley, a candidate for the U.S. House of Representatives, made an instant connection over local politics and their (loud!) children.
Grechen Shirley (NY-2): After the presidential election in 2016, I started a grassroots Facebook group, and I called it New York 2nd District Democrats, and probably two days after this group went up, Christine reached out to me on Facebook and asked if we could talk. It was 11:00 p.m., I had a screaming six-month old infant to nurse, and Christine called me. We talked for an hour. She was one of the founding members of another activist group in the area, and we just delved into a plan to activate our people across the district. Her daughters were in the background; my child was sobbing. I knew in a second we’d be friends.
Pellegrino (District 9): This is what happens with women activists. We take up the call, literally.
Grechen Shirley: We put it all on the line because we’re fighting for change and we believe we can make a difference. But we have the same commitments that we did before. I’ve been at events with Christine where she’s had to run home to take her daughter to practice. Sometimes I have to rush out to get my daughter to dance class. It’s hard, but it would be harder alone.
Deb Haaland and Sharice Davids
Haaland and Davids (who, fun fact, is an ex-MMA fighter are both progressive candidates for the U.S. House and each could become the first Native American woman ever to serve in the chamber if she wins in November.
Sharice Davids (L) and Deb Haaland (R), campaigning together in Kansas in September 2018.
Davids (KS-3): Deb and I both went to the same summer program at the American Indian Law Center, a program that changed my life and enabled me to even be in a position to run for Congress. We weren’t the same class, but I felt connected to her because of that. Deb and I spoke soon after I announced I would run. The first time I called Deb, she was like, “If you need to sleep on my couch you can.” In some ways, I almost feel—Deb, you don’t even know this—that just hearing her on the other end in that first call, telling me, “Yes, do this,” was the validation I needed.
Haaland (NM-1): I had been at it for a lot longer than Sharice, at that point. It feels like a lifetime. A mutual contact put us in touch, and we share a lot of history. She was raised by a single mom. I’m a single mom. We’ve paid off our student loans. We’re both products of the public school system. We have a lot of similarities in our background, and when you share that struggle, it establishes a bond.
Davids: To me, Deb embodies that concept of someone who leads with love, who has genuine love and care for what we want to do here with Native candidates and women and the direction we’re headed in this nation. It’s been 240 years and we’ve never had a Native American woman in the House of Representatives in our government. It’s long overdue. I wish there were five of us and we all got sworn in at the same time. But we’ll take two for now, and we’ll leave the ladder down.
These conversations have been edited for clarity and concision.
Mattie Kahn is a senior editor at Glamour.
In a pivotal election year, Glamour is keeping track of the historic number of women running (and voting) in the midterm elections. For more on our latest midterm coverage, visit www.glamour.com/midterms.
This year, I ran for a seat on Illinois’ Cook County Board of Commissioners in the second largest county in the U.S., which includes the city of Chicago. It’s a district that is larger than 28 states. I made national headlines in this era of a record number of first-time female candidates: At 20, I was the youngest and first Pakistani Muslim person to ever run for this seat, and I campaigned against the male incumbent who has held the position for 16 years. I wanted to change the status quo, shake up the system, and challenge some of the preconceived notions of what a “politician” looks like. My policy ideas included increasing the minimum wage, heightening awareness of county programs, and decriminalizing marijuana.
Before running I interned for a Republican senator’s reelection campaign. When someone on that campaign asked me to run for office, my initial reaction was: no way. I didn’t think I was old enough; I didn’t think I could manage a campaign while going to college; and I certainly didn’t think I was qualified—I’d never seen a Muslim woman in elected office. But I remember while I was interning for that senator, I asked voters survey questions, and one of them was: On a scale from one to ten, how fearsome are you of an Islamic terror attack on U.S soil? The answer, almost unanimously, was 10. I talked to people who not only didn’t agree with my politics (I’m a Democrat), but were scared of me. I found out many of them responded that way because I was the first Muslim person they’d ever met.
I took a step back and recognized that I was old enough to run, and that a lot of the things that go into campaigning (like going to events and talking to people) were things I was already doing as a community organizer.
I lost my election in March, but I still made history: I registered more than 2,000 people to vote, and 30 percent of my votes came from people who voted for the first time. I realized that when people are informed, they want to use their voice. Some other things I learned from my experience as a first-time office-seeker:
People were obsessed with my Muslim identity as a political candidate.
Growing up post 9/11 as a Muslim woman who wears the hijab, I’m hyper-aware of my identity. While I was running, the first thing most people wanted to talk about was how I wore the hijab. Most of the time, the questions were fueled by innocent curiosity, but it distracted the message of my campaign. People were excited to see a Muslim woman running for office and focused on that—more than they did my policy ideas.
PHOTO: Courtesy of Bushra Amiwala
Amiwala at a campaign event.
Almost every article written about my campaign mentioned that I was Muslim. In one article that debriefed a debate between my two male opponents, it noted: “Amiwala wore a stylish, light pink hijab.” No one mentioned what the two men were wearing.
Everyone doubted me, even people from my own community.
Within a week of filing my paperwork to run, I got a call from a man active in area politics to come meet at his office. I was so excited, and was looking forward to what he’d say when we met.
“Almost every article written about my campaign mentioned that I was Muslim. In one article that debriefed a debate between my two male opponents, it noted: “Amiwala wore a stylish, light pink hijab.” No one mentioned what the two men were wearing.”
“Don’t run for this position. I say you drop out,” he told me in our meeting. I was stunned; it was the last thing I expected to hear.
I was broken in the moment, but his doubt ended up serving as the fuel that ignited the fire in my campaign. But I faced more hurdles: When I reached out to the local mosque, most of the men there had no idea what to do with me running for office, and didn’t know how to support me. Many of them didn’t take what I was saying seriously.
Other women and first-time voters are essential to grassroots campaigns.
From the beginning of my campaign, I sought the support of the marginalized: mobilizing hundreds of first-time voters—young people, people of color and people from immigrant communities.
“Why bother engaging groups of people who do not matter?” political experts said to me. “Those people will not vote for you, and they won’t vote against you—they won’t donate a single dollar to your campaign.”
Well guess what? They did show up. Over 400 of “those people” came out to my second fundraising dinner where I was able to out-fundraise the incumbent by three times the amount.
PHOTO: Courtesy of Bushra Amiwala
Amiwala with some of her campaign volunteers.
I personally registered thousands of “those people” to vote for the first time. I spoke to every high school in my district and oftentimes left with hundreds of email addresses from young people eager to register. I led a voter registration drive at our mosque, and hosted an event specifically for people in the South Asian community. At that event, we looked up attendees’ polling locations, and made sure every single one of them were registered to cast their ballot.
Running against a man who was already part of the establishment was one of the most difficult political challenges that I could have taken on. But as a first-time candidate, I learned that other women were my most important allies.
Early on, I reached out to one woman at the mosque who I didn’t know very well; I texted her that I was running for office, and she called me about 10 minutes later. She mentioned how she normally stays away from politics, but that she had an abundance of materials and resources to share with me. She helped me with every aspect of my campaign from assisting me financially to introducing me to people in her network who later became invaluable. I am so appreciative of that sisterhood that I tapped into. As we enter a crazy midterms season with many women running, my story is proof that women can and do lift other women up.
Not even 24 hours after the presidential election results, Lady Gaga was protesting outside Trump Towers in New York City. Those who have followed the pop singer’s career shouldn’t be surprised by this: She’s always been outspoken about issues she believes in—from LGBTQ+ empowerment (“Born This Way”) to sexual assault awareness (“‘Til It Happens to You”) to the Black Lives Matter movement (see this tweet). Gaga’s transparency about everything—not just her politics—is one of the qualities fans love most about her. They see themselves in her—and she sees herself in them.
It’s why Mother Monster seeks projects and partnerships that “give back” to fans and allows them to see even more of her. She’s always putting them first and offering glimpses into her inner circle—whether it’s through Verizon Up, a new rewards program that gives customers the opportunity to snag VIP tickets and backstages passes to her Joanne world tour, or releasing a new documentary on Netflix, aptly titled Gaga: Five Foot Two, that was created by some of her closest friends.
Nearly 10 years into her illustrious pop music career, Gaga is still finding ways to connect with her fans. In that span of time, Gaga has also redefined what it means to be a pop star—especially a female one. She talks about that—plus politics, her documentary, and so much more—in our refreshingly candid chat, below.
GLAMOUR: You were the first woman to ever headline Wrigley Stadium last week. What did that feel like?
LADY GAGA: It was very special; I was very honored. I didn’t know until that morning when someone told me, so it was a surprise as well. I feel so lucky that I got to be that first woman performer, but I did say to the audience that I was so sorry they had to wait over 100 years for a woman to headline.
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GLAMOUR: You’ve been in pop music for over a decade. How different is the industry for women now versus when you started?
GAGA: It’s so interesting. When I started 10 years ago, things were very much about everybody being super perfect and glammed up [and] everything being clean and beautiful and a sort of very particular perception of a woman. I was always very against that; everybody always thought I was dressed weird or artsy or too creative. And then over the years everyone artistically loosened up in their own ways.
Now I see all kinds of avant-garde visuals and very unique senses of style for a lot of women. I think that’s how we’ve changed, and I don’t think I was the only person to do that. There were many of us, and it’s nice to see. It’s important for women to feel like they can break away from any particular image. Pink talked about that at the MTV [Video Music] Awards. I really like what she said about her daughter.
GLAMOUR: There were a lot of political messages at the VMAs, too. I know you protested Donald Trump’s presidential win the day after the election. How has the current political climate changed the way you approach your live shows?
GAGA: It doesn’t change how I do my live shows. It changes everything. What we’ve all experienced—it’s not just something I apply to when I’m on stage singing. I apply it to my life. These are our morals and our ethics and values on the line, so I carry them with me through my day and then on the stage.
GLAMOUR: This is a very scary time for many women right now. Where do you hope things go over the next couple of years?
GAGA: I hope that we continue a process of healing, as well as a process of continuing to help each other. More education for women. More jobs for women. More equal opportunities for women. More women to be taken seriously. And I think more than anything we wish to be heard and not to be shut down. I think this is a good thing to think about for any community; what is important is that our voices be heard and not swallowed in an abyss of history.
GLAMOUR: Do you have any hopes for women in music over the next couple of years?
GAGA: I hope to see women thriving and happy, loving what they’re doing, and being in control and powerful of what they create. You mentioned earlier what it meant to be a woman in this industry [10 years ago] and what it means [now]; I guess what I would say as much as we all love the fashion and the makeup and the glamour, this isn’t a beauty pageant. It’s about the heart and the drive and the work. Of course, it’s lovely to dress up and compliment one another and feel good—but that shouldn’t be the very first thing.
GLAMOUR: You have a Netflix documentary coming out in September. Why did you decide to do that? And why now?
GAGA: I, in a lot of ways, have not a lot to do with the documentary. I had a lot to do with it because I allowed them access to me. I decided when I allowed them to film and what I’d be OK with them filming. But this was a piece that was created by my friends because they wanted people to see me the way they do and to know me the way they do. It’s really for no other reason other than the sake of art and a documentary of friends who love each other. You know me, it’s not about the money a lot of the time.
GLAMOUR: What can fans expect from the documentary?
GAGA: I actually don’t know what to tell you because I haven’t seen it the whole way through. I’ve only seen little pieces of it. I do not really want to give much of my two-cents because I can’t be objective about watching myself, you know?
GLAMOUR: You also have this new partnership with Verizon Up. What drew you to that?
GAGA: I always like to give back to my fans and get them a little bit closer every time. I’m really excited that Verizon is partaking in that because it means more people get upgraded. We have people that come and do backstage meet-and-greets where I take a picture with them and they see the stage up close.
GLAMOUR: Final question: Next year marks the 10-year anniversary of The Fame. If you could tell your 2008 self one thing, what would it be?
GAGA: “Hold on.” That’s what I would tell myself. I would tell myself to hold on.
Saskatchewan Premier Brad Wall has been a vocal proponent of abolishing the Senate. With the Prime Minister now under pressure to fill vacancies in the upper chamber, Wall argues that not appointing new senators might be the way to get rid of the institution.
