Moonlight shines on glimmering black waves. An island is illuminated in the distance. Under the shadow of a palm tree, a figure emerges, crawling from the ocean. An eerie song leaks from its gaping maw. The creature rears its head. Bedazzled under the moonlight, she lies before us: Jojo Siwa.
What is beyond the bow? What mystery is shrouded behind the great pink curtain of glitter and veneered smiles? As she rolls on the beach, singing in autotuned harmony, it becomes very clear: not much.
In March, Siwa posted a cryptic advisory to her followers stating, “The following content is not made for children and may be disturbing or offensive to some viewers.” Following in the footsteps of many child stars before her, she announced her rebrand. No more manufactured bows. Throw out the pink rhinestones.
The song starts with the sound of strings — the calm before the storm. Then, it begins:
“I was a bad girl, I did some bad things/
I swear I did it all for fun and it meant nothing.”
In an interview with Billboard Magazine, Siwa states that, originally, she was scared of the lyrics. “I didn’t want to say I was a bad girl. Because I wasn’t a bad girl.” She talks of her transformation, like a butterfly emerging from its chrysalis. Except this butterfly wears excessive facepaint and proclaims herself the creator of the genre “gay-pop.”
“Oh, Karma’s a bitch/
I should have known better/
If I had a wish, I would have never effed around/
When I saw the pics of you and her, I felt the knife twist./
Karma’s a bitch, and she’s with you right now.”
We are never surprised by the level of vulnerability and truth poured into Siwa’s lyricism. This was her chance to surprise her audience, give them something real. Make herself more than just a headline keeping the Daily Mail’s snapchat story in business. Instead, it sounds as if a middle schooler learned what being “edgy” is and tried to write a song about their two week long relationship.
“This lonely room feels so empty, just me and my regrets/
And cold blue eyes look back at me, the mirror has no sympathy/
My guilt’s become a symphony that won’t let me forget/
Oh, karma’s a bitch.”
As the song ends in slow resolution, a singular thought enters my mind: Thank god. But although it is over, we are not free. For it is possible for a song to be really bad and still catchy. The tune haunts me. I’ll find myself humming it under my breath as I get ready for the day or singing it as I complete my homework. Then, it hit me — Jojo has won. It was never about being someone new; it was about being someone to talk about. We spent so much time trying to figure out what’s beyond the bow that we forgot that her hairline is receding. There is nothing behind the bow. Just a shiny bald head.
