Taylor Swift and Travis Kelce are engaged and, culturally speaking, there is simply no bigger news. Swift’s post on Instagram — five photos, including one of Kelce bent on one knee in front of white and pink potted flowers and an arch — was liked 5 million times in just 40 minutes. Details about her ring, a brilliant-cut old mine diamond, set in yellow gold with filigree engraving, spread rapidly. Most every media outlet, from ESPN to NBC News, pushed out notifications and published reaction pieces on the newly minted fiancés. Hell, even President Donald Trump, who for the past few years has been vocally critical of Swift, offered luck to the couple.
Even President Donald Trump, who for the past few years has been vocally critical of Swift, offered luck to the couple.
This all tells me, for one thing, just how badly we’re craving a cultural touchstone of this magnitude — something, anything, to bring us common ground. There is more here, though.
Swifties, notoriously conspiratorial about Swift’s next move and defensive of their leader, are celebrating. One posted, “Taylor Swift and Travis Kelce [are] the American Royal Wedding.” Some Swifties were crying, others were screaming, but mostly they were deeply sentimental, posting things like, “Taylor is one of the reasons I continue to be a hopeless romantic and believe in happy ever afters so to see someone who has struggled to find love her entire life finally being cherished and cared for makes me very happy. I wish them all the best.”
Conservative pundit and Daily Wire co-founder Ben Shapiro shared on X: “This is unironically an excellent thing. I hope many other single people follow their example.”
“Congrats to Taylor Swift and Travis Kelce. We are MASSIVE fans,” former NFL star turned conservative commentator Pat McAfee wrote on same the platform.
Together, Swift and Kelce have managed to do what only a few strategic and high-budget television shows and movies have managed in the past few years: They are monocultural, hegemonic. Between the music and the football, this relationship knocks down cultural silos that have become increasingly formidable and unavoidably political. It is less about the support or the well wishes coming from both sides of the aisle, from different socioeconomic strata, and from all different age groups than it is the simple fact that everyone actually knows about this.
One explanation — aside, of course, from their combined megastardom — for why this engagement is such a rare monocultural event is that it is strongly rooted in convention and Americana archetypes. For those leaning left politically, there’s either an old-world whimsy or traditionalism worthy of an eyeroll. For those more firmly on the right, it’s confirmation of a successful all-American union. And both represent the impossible heights of hard work and ambition — both being from upper-middle-class families before they achieved rare levels of success and celebrity — that drive the general myth and fallacy of the American dream. Swift’s almost unfathomable success and music domination is so well documented and culturally prevalent that I don’t need to recount the awards, the albums and the accolades. Kelce, too, is an indisputable talent, having played in five Super Bowls, won three, and holding a record for postseason and Super Bowl receptions. Last week, Fox Sports called him “the greatest tight end of his generation,” listed behind only Tony Gonzalez. While the metrics of his football career might matter little to Swifties, Kelce’s willingness to publicly show his love and adoration for Swift matters greatly. In comparison with Swift’s past relationships, a mercurial Matty Healy and a private Joe Alwyn, for example, Kelce embraces her very publicly. In his much-discussed GQ cover story, Kelce was effusive with his praise for Swift: “I hadn’t experienced somebody in the same shoes as me, having a partner who understands the scrutiny, understands the ups and downs of being in front of millions. That was very relatable, seeing how exhausted she would get after shows. She may not think of herself as an athlete. She will never tell anyone that she is an athlete. But I’ve seen what she goes through. I’ve seen the amount of work that she puts on her body, and it’s mind-blowing.” My extended family group chat, some 30 people spanning three generations, predictably exploded over the engagement news. Jokingly, one of my cousins asked if Swift will keep her famous last name. For a different breed of megastar, one that does not exist in this generation, that might be a silly question. For Swift, given her much-discussed stop-and-go feminism, that is a valid ask. When you remove the influence, the money and the ever-increasing hegemony, Swift and Kelce are, in so many ways, a traditional couple. Together, they’re classic Americana. They’re Kansas City. They’re, as Swift captioned her engagement post, your English and gym teachers. They’re lyrics to an early Taylor Swift song. And in this divisive, increasingly conservative America, they are a couple that feels very right for right now.
Hannah Holland
Hannah Holland is a producer for MSNBC's "Velshi" and editor for the "Velshi Banned Book Club." She writes for MSNBC Daily. 
