Chappell Roan Canceled Her NYC Show—Middle-Aged Women Get It

A 56-year-old “fangirl” is disappointed she didn’t get to see Roan perform but doesn’t blame the pop star for needing to take some time for herself.

I’m sitting here writing about Chappell Roan at the very moment that I should be in the car, driving to see her at the All Things Go Festival at Forest Hills Stadium in Queens, an appearance she canceled Friday afternoon, pulling out of the New York City and Washington, D.C. shows after citing a need to prioritize her health.

Though both the organizers of All Things Go and Roan’s social media offered heartfelt apologies (and on the fest’s IG, a statement underscoring a commitment to supporting artists who prioritize their mental health: “…it’s important to remember that health and well-being always comes first”), the internet exploded with pissed-off fans and theories around “WTF?” This included speculation that one of the reasons Roan canceled is because she is so stressed out from the onslaught of outrage she received for not endorsing Kamala Harris. After the uproar, she took to TikTok to clarify that she is voting for Harris, but restated that she sees major issues on both political sides: “No, I’m not voting for Trump and yes, I will always question those in power.”

While I understand Roan’s point of view, of course, I give big props to Taylor Swift for using her clout to endorse Harris. But there’s a stark difference between these two pop icons: Swift knows how to work the system at this point. Chappell is new to all of this, and yes, probably needs a better PR team helping her respond to backlash. But more importantly, and the reason my disappointment in her canceling is taking a backseat to what really matters: Chappell is tired, fed up, and needs a fucking break. Sound familiar?

I mean, not to burst anyone’s bubble as we all approach or embrace middle age, but I dare you to name even one person in your friend group who is Snow White-style skipping along with bluebirds chirping around their pretty little heads. There’s seemingly always something at this age: marriage boredom, dating fiascos, judge-y parents, pain-in-the-ass kids…

In my mind, and most definitely connected to why I fucking love Roan, like the 56-year-old fangirl that I am, the reasons she resonates, thrills, and captivates me are not just the brilliant, biting lyrics in her preciously perfect debut album The Rise and Fall of a Midwest Princess, or the voice she is giving to the LGBTQ+ community. No, it’s because, well, Roan knows things that other 26-year-olds do not. Dare I say it? She’s channeling mid-life ennui and the fuck this shit attitude that many of us are only just now learning how to handle. In essence, she’s one of us.

I fell for Roan hard in early spring, marveling at so many of her lyrics. mixing cynicism with eternal hope for growing real love out of a bullshit situationship in “Casual,” for getting off on her ex’s bad luck post-breakup (dyeing their hair, crashing their car, and dating way-too-young girls, ahem) in “My Kink Is Karma,” and for blowing the lid off of super mega bummer boys in “Super Graphic Ultra Modern Girl.” All of these songs hit, and Princess had a big single with “Hot To Go,” but for me, it’s all about “Femininomenon.”

So let’s say it’s working out
You pretend to love his mother
Lying to your friends about
How he’s such a goddamn good lover
Stuck in the suburbs
You’re folding his laundry
You got what you wanted, so stop feeling sorry
Crying at the nail salon

Earlier this year, I had an epiphany with this song as my soundtrack. My recent long-term relationship had finally taken its last gasp, but I was smarting from the loss, irrationally missing my ex and imagining our potential if he only stopped being “so scared” (I can see Roan nodding, “Same, girl, same,” right now).

In one of the last conversations we had, my ex told me that I was a shiny star; that he wished he was on my level, but he wasn’t. I knew he was right, that we were in different places in our lives, but I was stubbornly holding on to a fantasy. It wasn’t until a road trip took me to the suburbs outside of New Haven, Connecticut and I was sitting in a ho-hum coffee shop that it all hit me.

Here I was, stuck in the suburbs, for real, sipping a bad coffee surrounded by a bunch of men stealing looks at their phones to get a score for whatever game was on, while women with kids were pleading with them to just keep an eye on their spawn for one goddamn minute so they could run to the bathroom. I sat there watching the scene, dressed in black as usual, with a close pal who also resembled one of The Witches of Eastwick, both of us two fishes sorely out of water.

“Ohmyfuckinggod,” I said to my friend. “He was right.” (I didn’t even have to say who “he” was.) “This is where I’d end up with him. In this coffee shop. Or in another one, in another suburb, near his sisters’ houses; Sunday dinners and football games after he works another million-hour week like the stubborn prick that he is. And you know what? I know I said I could make it work in order to go along with him in this storybook bullshit idea of our next chapter, but I can’t. I don’t want to live here. I don’t want to be the lone weirdo trying to start some liberal-lady book club among all these Starbuckians.”

My friend sipped her crappy coffee and said only this: “I was gonna give it six months, tops.”

Goddamn it, Roan. You were right. It would’ve been just a matter of time before I was crying at the nail salon.

Part of Roan’s magic is the way she appeals to so many demos. The teens and 20-somethings love her for her proud snubbing of traditional beauty standards, her outspoken embrace of drag, and her support for trans rights, particularly for kids like her who grew up without a voice. All of that speaks to me.

The mommy crowd—as Vogue highlights in a recent piece on the similarities between the singer and the parents of young kids—sees Roan’s own struggles with depression and work/life balance mirroring some of the same issues they are facing in this period of their lives; that Roan’s tired-of-touring blues (aka, refusal to people-please) and cries for privacy mirror some of their own challenges. All of that speaks to me.

But what really gets me? Holy shit, lady. How’d you get so old? This 26-year-old (and we share the same birthday!) is far too well-versed in precisely the same kind of scenarios that so many of my girlfriends and I have to handle all the time. Let’s start with mid-life dating: Those first-date dudes—you in your heels with your straight hair— who can’t be bothered to ask a single question? Check. The guy you’re fucking on the regular, who keeps saying “why do we need to label this?” Check.

And it’s not just dating or love life fiascos. There’s a weariness in Roan’s lyrics that permeates her catchy riffs and poptastic tunes. It reminds me of that all-too-familiar voice of the disapproving mother in your head (yes, even now) when you go “outside the box,” be it with a mid-life tattoo habit or the news that your kid is dropping out of college. Check. 

Won’t make my mama proud, it’s gonna cause a scene
She sees her baby girl, I know she’s gonna scream

How about failures at work, dreams shattered, and maybe even the frightening idea that you’ll have to move back to your more affordable hometown from the big city and suck it up? Check. I know a handful of other pals grappling with some form of all this right now.

And how about this one? In Roan’s song “Love Me Anyway” she sings about being a closed-off, emotional avoidant who blew off her lover again and again, until that lover made her feel safe enough to show her vulnerable side. Ring any bells? I’ve personally got a small list of exes who medalled at The Avoidant Olympics. But in this instance, I love that Roan owns her shit (unlike so many of those sad former sweeties) in this relatable narrative. 

My 40s and 50s have been some of the most exciting times in my life, full of adventure and self-acceptance, but at times, they’ve also been a raging shitstorm. I think—no, I know—that if I was doing a girlfriend circle on this, we’d all agree that Roan has the chops to join in. 

So while, yes, I’m so disappointed to not get to see Roan perform this time around, I love her so much for how she’s given voice to ME and what’s on my mind. And I applaud her tough decision to actually rest. Remember rest? That’s what you’re supposed to do when you’re exhausted, as I constantly have to remind myself. Applause and amen, Chappell. See you soon. Xox

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