The twin scars on my abdomen form a cross. Both lines are vestiges of unexpected medical interventions. First scar (horizontal): an emergency c-section. Four years later, a mysterious lump appeared two inches below my belly button. Cancer scare, surgical extraction, my second scar (vertical).
I’ve learned scars can take two forms: physical or emotional. These too intersect. The physical is often easier to contend with. It leaves a mark — this is proof of something. The things that happen to you, that cause you pain, and do not leave physical scars are often more difficult to put into words. For years, I felt I could not adequately convey how I continued to be haunted by those two medical encounters. Taylor Swift’s “Hoax,” however, helped me find my voice. The song expresses both the physical and emotional components of trauma, weaving them together in a narrative of complexity and nuance.
Taylor Swift released her surprise album Folklore in July of 2020. In inimitable Taylor Swift fashion, the album recalls a bygone era — conjuring up images of a romantic English countryside or perhaps a 1950s gymnasium — while also simultaneously speaking right to the particular heart of the COVID pandemic. Folklore straddles two worlds, past and present. It is both escapist and confrontational, a contradiction. Beautiful and tragic. And it never ceases to amaze me how Swift can write about a specific pinpoint of an experience and make it seem somehow universally relatable.
Cue “Hoax,” the culminating song of the standard version of Folklore. In the documentary Folklore: The Long Pond Studio Sessions, Taylor Swift says that “Hoax” embodies the sweeping themes of the album as a whole: “Confessions, incorporating nature, emotional volatility and ambiguity at the same time … love that isn’t just easy.” “Hoax” is broad and even nebulous in its scope. The song, Swift explains, blends “several different, very fractured situations…” She pulls those disparate situations together and creates a narrative that reads like a prism, refracting out in a multitude of directions. “Hoax” is fascinating in part because it can be interpreted so expansively, with many different layers.
As much as its title evokes nineteenth-century archeological forgeries or P.T. Barnum’s Fiji mermaid, “Hoax” also functions as a lens for the modern FOX / Trump era of fake news. And is a fitting song for my situation in 2021.
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BRITTANY MICKA-FOOS is the author of the short story collection It’s No Fun Anymore (Apprentice House Press, 2025) and the chapbook a litany of words as fragile as window glass (Bottlecap Press, 2024). Her work has been published in Ninth Letter, Witness Magazine, Epiphany, and elsewhere. Read more at www.brittanymickafoos.com
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