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"Girl, so confusing," femme cool, and resolution over resilience

Robin James reframes the year's biggest pop culture moment not as a fashion trend, but as a profound political shift in how femininity is performed and valued. While the world fixated on the lime-green aesthetic of Charli XCX's album, James argues that the real story is a rejection of the exhausting "resilience" narrative that has dominated feminist pop for a decade. This is a crucial distinction for anyone trying to understand why "girlboss" energy suddenly feels obsolete in a world where structural barriers remain stubbornly intact.

The Death of the Resilient Girlboss

The piece begins by dismantling the traditional definition of "cool," tracing it from Black masculine origins to its appropriation by white rock stars like Lou Reed. James writes, "Rock stars are cool because they are skeptically detached from mainstream norms of propriety regarding anything from aesthetics to personal health and presentation." This historical context is vital; it establishes that "cool" has always been a form of disidentification, a way to opt out of the mainstream script. However, James points out that the current iteration of this concept is radically different because it is distinctly femme.

"Girl, so confusing," femme cool, and resolution over resilience

The author contrasts this new "brat" energy with the failed comeback of Katy Perry's "Woman's World," a song that tried to sell the old narrative of overcoming obstacles. James notes that "narratives of feminist resilience are less zeitgeisty in a world where abortion rights and trans rights have eroded." This is the piece's sharpest insight: in an era of regression, the story of "overcoming" feels like a lie. When the obstacles keep coming back, the performance of resilience becomes not just exhausting, but politically naive. As James puts it, "It's harder to sell feminine resilience as a cause for celebration when previously-overcome obstacles keep reappearing on the horizon."

"Brat-style synergistic resolution is in no way countercultural... But, as DiPiero noted, it does represent a vibe shift in the kinds of femininities that pop listeners and social media users find relevant and meaningful."

Critics might argue that this shift is merely a marketing pivot by the music industry, a cynical rebranding of the same old competition. Yet, the evidence suggests the audience is genuinely hungry for something that acknowledges the messiness of reality rather than pretending to have conquered it.

From Conflict to Resolution

The core of James's argument centers on the song "Girl, So Confusing" and its remix featuring Lorde. Rather than pitting the two artists against each other—a classic industry tactic—the song and its resolution offer a new model for female interaction. James observes that the original track "uses ambivalence to disidentify with dominant figurations of pop feminist femininity such as the girlboss." It refuses to be a role model or a victim, instead embracing the confusion of interpersonal conflict.

The resolution of the song is framed not as a victory over an enemy, but as a settlement between peers. James highlights how the remix transforms the narrative: "Resolving their very hyped-up beef in the remix, Charli and Lorde leverage their partnership as pop star brands to create one of 2024's biggest hits." This is a fascinating pivot from the "resilience" of the 2010s to the "resolution" of the 2020s. The music itself mirrors this, using harmonic chord progressions to resolve dissonance rather than building tension to a breaking point. As James writes, "The music in the 'Girl, So Confusing' remix resolves harmonic dissonance in a way that parallels the way the lyrics resolve the interpersonal dissonance between its two vocalists."

This approach treats conflict as something to be managed and resolved through synergy, rather than a battle to be won through sheer will. It is a move away from the "skeptical melancholy" of the old rock star toward a collaborative, albeit messy, engagement with the world.

The Politics of Femme Cool

Ultimately, James argues that this new "femme cool" represents a shift in how cultural capital is claimed. The old cool was about white men distancing themselves from the mainstream; the new cool is about women and queer people disidentifying with the "neoliberal resilience" of the cishetero mainstream. James concludes that "brat-style cool uses femme performances of alternative, perhaps racially ambiguous femininities to claim elite cultural capital."

This is a significant reorientation of power dynamics in pop culture. It suggests that the most "cool" thing one can do today is to admit that the system is broken and that we are all confused by it, rather than pretending we have the answers. The stakes have shifted from the mass commodity record industry to a platformed, often demonetized landscape where authenticity and connection matter more than the illusion of invincibility. As James writes, "Brat is a rock-star figure that disidentitifes with the resilience of the girlboss to appear cool in a newly femme way."

"Brat disidentifies with the resilient girlboss by resolving differences and damage rather than overcoming it."

Bottom Line

Robin James's analysis is a compelling intervention that correctly identifies the exhaustion with "resilience" as a defining cultural mood of 2024. The strongest part of the argument is the musical and lyrical dissection of how "resolution" offers a more honest alternative to the "girlboss" fantasy. The biggest vulnerability lies in the assumption that this "resolution" is truly a break from capitalist spectacle, given that the remix was explicitly designed to go viral and drive engagement. Nevertheless, the piece offers a vital framework for understanding why the old scripts of empowerment no longer resonate in a fractured world.

Sources

"Girl, so confusing," femme cool, and resolution over resilience

by Robin James · · Read full article

In summer 2024, the figure of the “rock star”--someone who parties hard, does equally hard drugs, flouts rules of propriety, and lives a big, very spectacularly messy life--returned to the forefront of Anglophone pop culture, this time branded lime green and distinctly femme. As The Guardian writes, “brat – inspired by Charli [XCX]’s most recent album – is more than a name, it’s a lifestyle. It is noughties excess, rave culture. It’s “a pack of cigs, a Bic lighter, a strappy white top with no bra”. It’s quintessentially cool.” “Brat” is both the name of Charli XCX’s 2024 album and the “cool” ethos that it evokes. In her Pitchfork review of the album, Meghan Garvey finds that when compared to other “Main Pop Girl[s]...she [Charli] had something they didn’t. She was cool.” Traditionally, “cool” is a gendered performance of knowing disidentification with the mainstream that originated in Black popular culture and was appropriated, along with blues, jazz, and rock, by white men and (ironically) the mainstream music industry. Originally, “cool” referred to a performance of Black masculinity that was “intensely, connected, aware, and able to judge the right action to take in a given circumstance” (hooks 143) -- i.e., one that “didn’t believe the hype” (hooks 147) of mainstream white supremacist culture and politics. However, when appropriated by white hipsters, “cool” is reframed into a sort of “ironic detachment” (Winnubst 2) from mainstream white culture, like the quintessential “rebel without a cause.” Philosophers like myself and Robert Gooding-Williams have called that detachment a kind of “skeptical melancholy”--it’s a very modern/Enlightenment and white self-distancing from embodied, material immediacy. Rock stars are cool because they are skeptically detached from mainstream norms of propriety regarding anything from aesthetics to personal health and presentation.

In a 1987 article on “Why Lou Reed Will Always Be Cool,” the Chicago Reader located the Velvet Underground frontman’s eternal coolness in “his unprecedented cynicism, along with his conviction that rock ‘n’ roll could be used as a medium for serious expression without giving up its trashy, offensive vitality…Lou Reed saw through that jive, and that’s Reason Number One why he’s eternally cool.” Skeptical of mainstream norms of, say, sexual propriety, Reed famously hung out with Andy Warhol’s very queer crowd and wrote a song--1969’s “Candy Says”-- from the perspective of a trans woman. Charli XCX has cited Reed as an inspiration for brat; from the album’s not so ...