Hit us baby one more time

by kat boskovic

photo by siena yocum

With the release of Sam Levinson and The Weeknd’s controversial series The Idol in June 2023, the cultural obsession with the “bad” pop girl came into sharp focus. Despite the backlash for its overt sexualization and glamorization of destructive behaviors, the show reflects a deeper truth: the music industry thrives on churning out “bad” pop stars. From Britney Spears to Miley Cyrus, and now the emerging “brat” trend, agencies capitalize on the “rebel girl” archetype, and we can’t get enough.

This fascination with the “bad girl” is nothing new; it returns to icons Edith Piaf and Marilyn Monroe. In our lifetime, Britney Spears was the first to embody this transformation; marketed as the innocent girl-next-door, her rise became a media spectacle that shaped the pop landscape. When her 1998 music video for “Hit Me Baby One More Time” debuted, it sparked outrage for its portrayal of Spears’ revealing schoolgirl outfit. Defending herself in an interview, Spears said, “I don’t see myself as a sex symbol.” Yet, at just 17, she was thrust into a world that demanded sexual allure, and a year later, she graced the cover of Rolling Stone in lingerie pajamas, a jarring shift that set the tone for her career. Despite her contradictory quotes—“If you want me to be some kind of sex thing, that’s not me.”— juxtaposed with countless skimpy photoshoots, she was both scrutinized and fetishized, her image crafted by an industry that profited from her pain. After years of exploitation, she fell under her father’s conservatorship, a tragic end to a turbulent rise.

Miley Cyrus followed in Spears’ footsteps, transitioning from Disney’s good girl to a provocative pop icon. Her 2013 album Bangerz marked a decisive turn, with the music video for “Wrecking Ball” showcasing a barely-there outfit and licking a (hopefully clean) hammer with a fresh blonde pixie cut. While portrayed as liberated, Cyrus's reality was far from it; her lyrics insinuated substance use, painting a picture of a party girl struggling with her own demons. In a 2014 Elle interview, she revealed her battle with depression, echoing the narrative that defined Spears.

Today, the term “brat” has emerged as the latest descriptor for “bad girl” iconolatry. Charli XCX, mother of this trend, incessantly flaunts her party-girl persona; following a Boiler Room performance in Ibiza, videos surfaced of her pausing her DJ set to snort cocaine. Rather than facing backlash, her behavior was celebrated, and her lyrics in “365” casually referencing drug use turned harmful habits into a “brat” movement: cool, sexy, iconic. But what is so desirable about drug addiction? What is so glamorous about substance abuse?

How do these “bad girl” figures continue to resurface? The answer is simple: sex sells. Whether it’s a photo of an underage pop star in lingerie, or a music video depicting a “good girl gone bad,” we are drawn to the taboo. This isn’t solely limited to Spears, Cyrus, and Charli; even Jojo Siwa, known for her glitter and bows, attempted to rebrand herself this summer with her single “Karma.” However, the effort fell flat, deemed too innocent and cringe-worthy by a culture hungry for sexy scandal.

Music agencies exploit this narrative, pushing artists towards rebellion because shock value translates into profit. For many young female stars, adopting the “bad girl” persona resembles a rite of passage from child star to adult artist. This oversexualization signals maturity but often comes at a steep price—both for the artists and their audiences, for wild behavior is misinterpreted as liberation, yet it ultimately reflects a dangerous cycle of exploitation. In Sam Levinson’s The Idol, protagonist Jocelyn (Lily-Rose Depp) illustrates her provocative image as independent, performing sensual dance routines and writing sultry lyrics, yet simultaneously suffers at the hands of her agent boyfriend’s (The Weeknd) control issues and his vision of her portrayal in the public eye. While a fictional piece, it resonates with the experiences of countless popstars before The Idol; can we call this liberation, or is it pure exploitation? 

As the music industry continues to churn out these “bad” pop girls, we must consider the ramifications. The allure of rebellion and the thrill of scandal keeps us coming back for more, but we ought to ask ourselves: at what cost to the artists, and to our popular culture? While we continue to devour these narratives, the consequences for both the performers and fans are far more damaging than we realize.