In 2013, after Tina Fey and Amy Poehler joked about pop behemoth Taylor Swift’s love life at the Golden Globes, Swift clapped back on Twitter, quoting Katie Couric quoting Madeleine Albright, “there is a special place in hell for women who don’t support other women.” Unfortunately, Swift only seems to abide by this adage when she is the one not being supported. 

Nowhere is this double standard clearer than on Swift’s recent album “The Life of a Showgirl.” Nestled between songs about her fiance Travis Kelce and dreams of settling down, Swift finds the time to lyrically attack women. 

In “Opalite,” Swift makes racially charged remarks against Kelce’s ex-girlfriend, Kayla Nicole, including lyrics like “Sleepless through the onyx night / But now the sky is opalite,” that allude to Kelce moving from a dark, stormy passage in his life — apparently his relationship with Nicole, who is Black — to a brighter romance with Swift.

Whenever Swift references her “haters” — whether they be ex-boyfriends, ex-friends, comedians or television shows — her legions of fans rush to her defense. But when Swift faces criticism — her carbon emissions, underage boyfriends, Trump-supporting friends — fans rally around her as well. In all cases, Swift and her fans claim feminism as their rationale. 

Using feminism as a shield against criticism of powerful figures ignores its intersectional nature. Feminism cannot be divorced from other modes of oppression such as race, class, sexuality or able-bodiedness. The feminist movement, like society at large, is dominated by rich, white, cisgender, straight, able-bodied women at the expense of individuals who do not fit those categories. 

The conversation is incomplete without acknowledging the link between parasocial relationships and billionaire feminism. The success of any billionaire influencer relies on relatability, likeability and the quest to be seen as a “good billionaire” — one who uses their wealth for good. Women holding this exorbitant wealth also have an expectation of representation. We’ve entered the billionaire feminism era, where they are not just billionaires, but rather  “girlboss” billionaires. 

Thus, social justice causes like feminism are an easy way to score points without meaningfully restructuring the social order. Coming out of the woodwork to occasionally endorse a political candidate or Tweet your support to reproductive rights costs nothing. 

To be fair, many celebrities do put their money where their mouth is. Swift donated to food banks in every city of her Eras Tour, for example. However, to have that large of a platform and only sporadically use it to advance a political cause is wasteful. 

Billionaire feminism seeks to uphold class disparities by reinforcing the idea that billionaires of oppressed groups earn their billions rightfully. Consequently, their philanthropic works, especially if related to women’s rights, make up for any critiques levied against them. Parasocially, we buy into this narrative by championing any modicum of progressive behavior and worshipping them as true titans of feminism. 

Willow Bay, dDean of the Annenberg School for Communication and Journalism, encapsulates this kind of billionaire feminism. To pre-empt any counters, yes, Bay is not a billionaire — her net worth, along with her husband Bob Iger, is of a humble multi-millionaire. In her interview with fellow billionaire-feminist Sheryl Sandberg for Sandberg’s project, Lean In, Bay recalls being offered a position on a daily news show. 

Feeling unqualified and unprepared for the job, Bay called her husband, then the humble president of Disney International, where he sagely advised her to “make sure you are getting paid the same amount as your co-anchor.” Naturally, the feminist movement starts and ends with husbands reminding their wives of pay parity. To Bay’s credit, she, along with Iger, also became controlling owners of Los Angeles’ women’s soccer team, Angel City F.C. 

All of these genuine gestures pale when viewed alongside Iger’s decision to pull “Jimmy Kimmel Live!” from airing. Yes, Kimmel’s show was reinstated, but not until Disney’s reputation and pocketbook felt a shock from major public demonstrations and Disney-owned account cancellation campaigns. Despite her role as Annenberg’s dean, Bay was silent on this obvious violation of freedom of speech. 

Is Bay responsible for the bad behavior of her husband? No. But saying it’s anti-feminist to critique Bay’s complicity in her husband’s silencing of President Donald Trump’s dissidents ignores how women can uphold fascistic and anti-feminist power structures. 

Solvency for this problem means acknowledging the power structures and dynamics that exist within feminist spaces. Rich, white women have power to enact structural change. Beyond just imploring people to vote once every four years, we should implore those in power to make advocacy a practice. Use the economic will of the masses to force change. 

Instead of defending billionaires and their anti-feminist actions, force them to do better. The real “special place in hell” isn’t for women who critique one another: It’s for women who profit from other women’s struggles. That’s why we need to ask more of women who capitalize on feminism and urge them to use their power to actually support other women.