Britney Spears and I share an intriguing mix of similarities and differences. As a Gen-X, West-Coast-born Scorpio, I find it fascinating to reflect on her Millennial, Southern, Sagittarian background. Growing up, she was always a constant presence in my life, much like the presence of famous figures who seem to be everywhere as you navigate your own journey. Her iconic “Baby One More Time” video played on repeat at my local sports bar, and she even filmed scenes at a high school near where I spent my childhood. There was something unique about Britney; she commanded attention in a way that other female artists did not.
As time passed, life events started to mirror each other. I got married, and so did she. I welcomed my first daughter, Lila, in April 2005, just a few months before she gave birth to her first son, Jason. After experiencing fertility struggles, I was astonished to find myself pregnant again and gave birth to my second daughter, Mia, in March 2006, while Britney welcomed her second son, Dylan, later that same year.
Living in a quaint house in the San Fernando Valley, I often felt a strange connection to Britney, who was rumored to reside in the nearby hills. Whether it was searching for a pediatrician or attending baby groups, it felt like she was always just ahead of me. Friends joked about the idea of her sons marrying my daughters someday. I formed a sort of bond with her as I followed her journey through the media, projecting my own struggles onto her.
One challenging day, while tending to my daughters, I saw a clip of Britney looking distressed on a gossip show. I empathized with her; I too felt lost in my new identity as a mother of two, worrying about how to balance everything. My emotions took over, and soon I found myself crying frequently.
After consulting with my doctor, I resumed an antidepressant to help with my postpartum depression, a common issue for those who had back-to-back pregnancies. With support, I started to feel better. Unfortunately, Britney’s situation worsened; she faced a divorce and began to exhibit erratic behavior. I found myself judging her harshly as she became a target for public scrutiny during her infamous meltdown.
Instead of considering the immense pressure she faced, I joined the chorus of critics mocking her parenting choices. I even watched, appalled, as Diane Sawyer interrogated her on national television, bringing her to tears.
As the years went by, my daughters grew, as did Britney’s sons. I added another child to my family, and Britney eventually returned to the spotlight with a successful Vegas residency. However, I couldn’t help but wonder why she still needed her father to oversee her affairs. Then, I watched the documentary Framing Britney Spears on Hulu, which shed light on how the public had treated her.
It hit me hard: we, as women, had failed her. Many of us had internalized a code of silence and compliance, unlike Britney, who had dared to be bold and authentic. Despite her record-breaking achievements, she was still scrutinized while others with questionable pasts continued to thrive. The question lingered—what exactly was her crime?
I realized then that I had once contributed to the societal shaming of Britney, and I felt deep remorse. We had shared similar experiences, and I had overlooked my own biases and misogyny. In that moment, I cried not only for Britney but also for my younger self, who hadn’t recognized the injustices around us.
Determined to make amends, I woke my daughters, Lila and Mia, to talk about the mistakes I had made in judging Britney. Their passionate defense of her was heartwarming and humbling. As a parent, it is now my mission to help shape a better world for this new generation—one that values humanity over gender identity.