Charli XCX has opinions, and she’s tired of watching other people have all the fun talking about her. For years, pop stars existed in this weird purgatory where they’d release music, show up for interviews, and then watch as the internet turned them into memes, discourse topics, or villain origin stories. The conversation happened around them, rarely with them. Now they’re grabbing the pen back, and Substack is their weapon of choice.
When Charli published “The Realities of Being a Pop Star” in November, she wasn’t just venting into the void. She was calling out a broken system where pop stars get treated like pretty puppets who should shut up and sing. “Another thing about being a pop star is that you cannot avoid the fact that some people are simply determined to prove that you are stupid,” she wrote. Within 48 hours, over 17,000 people subscribed. Clearly, something resonated.
The Burden of Being Misunderstood
The thing is, this isn’t new territory for Charli. She’s been trying to have smarter conversations about pop music since 2014, when she tweeted about loving people who get angry about pop music. She’s debated minimalism in pop, defended singing songs she didn’t write, and consistently pushed back against the idea that pop should be disposable entertainment. But Twitter is a dumpster fire now, mostly populated by bots and rage-baiting accounts. Instagram is pretty but hollow. Substack, messy as it can be, at least offers room to breathe.
Doechii’s first Substack post had a title that said everything: “If You Were Writing to Black People, You Wouldn’t Have to Edit So Much.” She’s exhausted from the constant performance of accessibility, the endless explanations required when you’re a Black woman in pop. Her essay “My Shower Head Is Racist” took something as mundane as hotel plumbing and turned it into a sharp critique of design that ignores Black women entirely.
“Because immediately, instinctively, I know: no Black woman was taken into account when this technology was designed,” she wrote. She used bold text and italics the way she uses her voice in music, punctuating her points with “(IDC IDC IDC!!!)” because she knows the what-about-isms are coming anyway. Some comments still missed the entire point, suggesting she just travel with her own detachable showerhead. As if that’s not exactly the problem she’s describing.
The Body Under the Microscope
Troye Sivan joined the Substack wave in January with an essay originally titled “Fuck This Guy,” later softened to “Feeling a Bit Uggo (Ugly).” A cosmetic doctor made a video dissecting Sivan’s face, pointing out “problem” areas and what procedures could “fix” him. Instead of letting it slide, Sivan wrote an entire essay unpacking his complicated relationship with his body.
He grew up on YouTube in the 2010s, so being perceived isn’t new for him. But there’s something particularly cruel about the content mill that turns other people’s insecurities into engagement bait. Sivan wrote about considering fat transfers under his eyes for $3,000, about being the perfect age for “baby botox,” about hating his red carpet photos. “What good is money and modern medicine if not to fix all of these flaws that this random sicko fucko plastic surgeon told me I have in an instagram reel?” he asked.
The doctor eventually deleted the video and apologized. Sivan changed his essay title. But the damage sits there, the questions linger. He’s still thinking about tweaks, still oscillating between self-acceptance and self-improvement. “I’m embarrassed to say, but I can’t make any promises,” he admitted. “Keep your eyes on my under eyes for updates.”
The Performance Never Really Stops
Here’s the uncomfortable truth: even on Substack, the performance doesn’t completely end. Zara Larsson pointed this out in an I-D interview, saying some pop stars on the platform sound like they’re trying too hard to be writers, throwing around big words instead of just being themselves. She didn’t name names, but she’s not wrong. The platform can become just another stage if artists aren’t careful.
But when it works, when the writing carries actual truth instead of manufactured relatability, it cuts through the noise. Charli told A Rabbit’s Foot that she’s always been open in interviews, but people don’t listen or take her out of context. “Writing publicly lets me create the context,” she said. Doechii echoed this in her first post: “I want to say shit once, and the shit be understood the first time I say it.”
The audience numbers on Substack are tiny compared to Instagram or even X. Charli has 73,400 followers there versus 3.8 million on X. Sivan has around 18,000 compared to 16 million on Instagram. Doechii sits at 38,000 versus 5.8 million on Instagram. But maybe that’s the point. Maybe smaller crowds mean smarter conversations, even if the comment sections still prove some people are determined to miss the point entirely.
A Sharper Lens or Just More Noise?
The question floating around all of this is whether Substack actually changes anything or just adds another layer to the content mill. Can longform essays from pop stars train audiences to think more critically, or will they just become another thing to skim and screenshot for Twitter discourse?
It depends entirely on whether people actually want to engage. The infrastructure for thoughtful conversation exists now, the pop stars are showing up with their own business plan for controlling their narratives. But if audiences keep treating them like content dispensers instead of actual people with complex thoughts, then even the most honest Substack essay becomes background noise. The pop stars have done their part by showing up. Now it’s everyone else’s turn to decide if they’re actually listening.
