It’s 3:30 p.m. on Friday, January 12, 2024. I dress in a black and pink cropped sweater, and listen to my newly created “reneé rapp” playlist as I softly draw on my eyeliner, preparing for the life-changing event I am about to experience. In typical fashion, I am running late. I weave between lanes and pray the lights remain green as I warn my friends in the car with something along the lines of “Guys, Mean Girls might be life-changing—life-altering, even—and I might not stop talking about Reneé Rapp for the rest of the night. Just a guess though.”
To preface, I knew of Reneé Rapp pre-Mean Girls—hence her being the reason to see it in the first place—but I had only heard one song and seen one or two TikToks of hers. Needless to say, I’ve heard more than one song now. Play the intro to any song off of Everything to Everyone or Snow Angel—including the deluxe versions—and I’ll name it. At the rate I’m going, I fear she may end up being my top artist of the year, and I am happy to inform you that the Reneé Rapp Brain Rot is alive and well.
Just like all of the Hunger Games fans unable to see President Snow as evil when Tom Blyth is that hot, I walk out of that theater rooting for my favorite antagonist, Regina.
We arrive just in time at the theater to settle in as the lights dim and the opening credits appear. I wait with baited breath for Regina George to appear. And yet—despite all of my preparation—I can’t help but gasp out loud and cover my mouth as “Meet the Plastics'' begins and Reneé appears. I don’t care what’s being said, I just want her to keep singing, talking, and Regina-ing. I leave the theater with her scenes playing over and over in my head. Just like all of the Hunger Games fans unable to see President Snow as evil when Tom Blyth is that hot, I walk out of that theater rooting for my favorite antagonist, Regina.
So, what is it about Rapp that is so appealing? She’s a triple threat—hot, talented, and funny. Not to mention, the icing on the cake is she’s openly queer. And in the celebrity-sense of the word, she’s “real.” What I, along with my fellow fans, love about Reneé Rapp is her personality during interviews. She flirts, she says the unexpected, and she speaks her mind. In other words, she never lets you know her next move. When asked in an interview with Stephen Colbert whether she had any notes for Rachel McAdams—the original Regina George—she responded, “date me?” Reneé’s social media accounts on TikTok and Instagram are also very personal. She even has a second instagram “spam” account currently accessible to the public—despite many exclamations from fans begging her to lock the gates. This combination of vulnerability and unpredictability have led many people to comment on her “lack” of media training, whether they mean it negatively or whether they are begging her to remain “untrained.”
She is a perfect concoction of unscripted and intentional; what she says are real thoughts, but she deliberately chooses when and where to say them.
Is that not the new, ideal branding? To be a “real” celebrity? To acknowledge your imperfections before media outlets frame you for them. Reneé’s lack of media training is her media training. Her PR team is well aware that there is a market for a young up-and-coming artist well versed in internet slang and expressing her opinions, occasionally “out of pocket.” When Reneé puts up a sign in Boston saying “I Hate Boston” to promote her new song, or claims to be “ageist” to older generations, she knows exactly what she’s doing. She is a perfect concoction of unscripted and intentional; what she says are real thoughts, but she deliberately chooses when and where to say them.
Reneé Rapp breaks rules of politeness further by talking about the things the public likes to hide. In a single interview for the Mean Girls promotional tour Reneé’s viral sound bites range from her addressing misogynistic bus driver “Buddy,” saying “if you’re watching this, I can’t stand you and I hope your business burns,” to complimenting Megan Thee Stallion who she claims has the “best ass I’ve ever seen.” In her casual manner, she calls out misogyny and talks about her sexuality. Whether it takes the form of Instagram posts, TikToks, or interviews, she shatters our ingrained habits of heteronormalcy to keep our personal and political private. Of course older people are going to be upset at a young, bold girl unapologetically herself, especially one unafraid of her elders.
For him, this question—as most of his questions often are—is rhetorical; he’s not asking you to disagree, there is clearly a correct answer.
Rewind a few weeks and it’s approximately 7:30 p.m. on Tuesday, December 26, 2023. My aunt and uncle are visiting for a post-Christmas day dinner and celebration. As the conversation often does at such a table, my 80-year old uncle has gone off on a tangent about my cousin’s step-son’s new, young girlfriend entering our family’s web. Except, the conversation is no longer about this new girl, it’s about manners. My uncle has turned his anecdote into a question about proper table etiquette. For him, this question—as most of his questions often are—is rhetorical; he’s not asking you to disagree, there is clearly a correct answer.
If a host puts food on your plate, are you not obligated to eat? And yet, I took this question seriously, and I gave him an answer he was not looking for. No, you are allowed to refuse.
I declared that manners differed not only culturally and personally, they also shifted generationally. As more family members chimed in, the debate became more heated until exacerbated “let me finish”-es were emphatically thrown over the baked ziti. The tension culminated in me reprimanding my uncle for his behavior during the debate, and ended with him leaving the room in disbelief that a twenty-one year old girl had called him out.
Perhaps Reneé Rapp’s real appeal is what I see in her and her brand; I see myself and who I wish I could be.
Perhaps I will never be bold enough to call out a misogynistic bus driver in a recorded interview, but at that table, I had my own small moment of defiance. An unconventional act, and yet I was being truer to myself than I have been at almost any other holiday dinner. Perhaps Reneé Rapp’s real appeal is what I see in her and her brand; I see myself and who I wish I could be. The activist and people pleaser constantly warring inside me until moments of outrage win out, and I am left with a ruined post-Christmas dinner. To see someone like Reneé constantly speaking her mind—and enjoying the reactions—is inspiring, even thrilling. So to Reneé Rapp and her team, I see you and I admire your authenticity, even if parts are orchestrated.
Oh and Reneé, date me?
