Column by Kate Blessing

Kate Blessing
Kate Blessing

For the sake of children everywhere, Katy Perry must be stopped.

The former Christian rock singer (under the alias Katy Hudson—which, by the way, is a ridiculous way to spell the name Katie) threatens the safety and social wellbeing of today’s youth.

While we can discuss all day how Britney Spears, Rihanna and (DEAR GOD) Lindsey Lohan could potentially be worse role models for young girls, Perry is exceedingly damaging.

Dear Katy,

Encouraging girls (likely younger girls given your ridiculous Rainbow Bright-inspired outfits and beats so sweet they give me a headache) to kiss their best friend—or stranger— just because they’re a girl, could send a positive message to young, scared, sexually-curious tweens,  but you took it too far.  Girls kissing girls is not a novelty, it’s a lifestyle, so respect it as such.

In an interview with YRB magazine you told reporters, “I’m not here to be a role model personality, I’m here to be in the business of f***ing rock and roll.”  Wrong again, sweetheart.  Nothing about what you do is rock and roll except for your very British hubby—but I want to talk about something else you straddle: brands.

You tried the Christian rock thing and it (ever so surprisingly) didn’t shoot you to superstardom.  Good try.  You moved on to become Miss Katy Perry, the California party girl we’ve all gotten to know [and loathe].  Congratulations, you’ve done it!  But at what cost?

Your superstardom is proof enough that you can successfully maintain fans across a broad range of ages and styles.  You haven’t solidified yourself to one brand, much like early Britney (although while she was shakin’ her thang in 2001, you were singing little-known ditties like “Faith Won’t Fail”—oh, how sweet the sentiment).  This way, young kids can tap their toes to your tunes and match their braces’ rubber bands to your bright wardrobe—and your fans in college can sympathize with your lyrics about one night stands and blacking out.  Since the music and lyrics are mutually exclusive, can you not see the dilemma?

Young girls are listening to your song and wondering why their “Last Friday Night” wasn’t so eventful.  Maybe next weekend they’ll give your ideas a try—you know, to fit in.  Young girls aren’t under enough pressure to do drugs, drink and have sex; you’re right, good on you for kickin’ it up a notch.

See the problem isn’t your music or your lyrics, or even the vomit your stylist permits you to don—it’s the combination.  Kids hear your bubblegum beats and see your bright, colorful clothes and think, “Hey, she’s just like me, she’s into everything I am.”  And Katy, 10-year-olds are not having sex, let alone blacking out the one night stand you seem to encourage. Gynecologists and middle school nurses everywhere thank you for the business—venereal disease is running rampant thanks to your “art.”

If you really were in the business of rock ‘n’ roll and your songs had some value, a slip-up might be overlooked.  Unfortunately, your career is just one big slip-up and eventually karma, disgruntled fathers or court-mandated damages will be your downfall.


An oversexed, once-impressionable college student with no children.  Yes, you disgust me.