Has Therapy Made A Monster of Ariana Grande?

An unsolicited psychoanalysis of a pop princess

Please note: The audio version of this essay includes explicit language.

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I remember the first time I heard Ariana Grande sing. It was 2013 and I was home from college driving my family’s 1995 Dodge Grand Caravan, the one in which the radio was the only option for music (unless you happened to have a cassette tape on hand). The song “The Way” came on and I was immediately struck by her voice. From the whistle tones, I thought it might be Mariah Carey, but when I looked up the title when I got home, I found a name I recognized only through a couple of Nickelodeon shows I’d never really watched. 

Wow, I thought. She’s really good. She was, and she still is. Since then, Ari has created more incredible music and achieved an impressive amount of success. Unfortunately, however, these high highs haven’t come without low lows. In the span of just a few years since I first heard her on the radio, Ari survived a suicide bombing in Manchester during her Dangerous Woman tour which killed 22 of her fans and left her with PTSD, according to CNN and Ari herself, as well as the loss of close friend and former boyfriend Mac Miller. One of these instances alone would be significantly traumatic, and with the two of them, not to mention any others concealed from the public eye, she’s undoubtedly been in therapy as a result.

Despite this trauma, Ari continues to do what she loves and is more active and diversified in her career than ever. Unless you’ve been living under a rock like Patrick Star for the past decade or so, you know about Ariana Grande and her work. You know she’s been releasing new music, her latest single “Yes, And” and its fitting remix with Mariah Carey for example, and dipping back into acting with Wicked, the movie adaptation of the broadway musical (the trailer for which dropped at the Super Bowl last week). And like with many celebrities, if you know about her and her work, you likely also know about her current relationship, the one that’s been stirring up quite the commotion recently. In case you don’t (and in case you don’t get the Patrick Star reference, either), since the summer, Ari has been dating Ethan Slater, her Wicked co-star who played SpongeBob SquarePants on broadway.

The chatter surrounding the two comes from the fact that Ethan and Ari met on the Wicked set and appeared to start dating shortly after splitting from their respective spouses – her from real estate agent Dalton Gomez, and him from his high school sweetheart Lilly Jay with whom he has a young son. Naturally, there’s been a lot of he-said-she-said about their relationship and its timeline, with one of the most cutting statements coming from Lilly herself, who described Ari as “not a girl’s girl” according to People. Fans and critics alike have been speculating about the manner in which the two got together (some have even substantiated Lilly’s claims by referencing Ari’s song “Break Up With Your Girlfriend, I’m Bored”). For a while, that’s all that was being said. That is, until recently, when Ari released her newest single.

In listening to the song and digesting the lyrics, “Yes, And” strikes me as having a similar air to Ari’s 2019 hit “Thank U, Next.” Both songs, in fact, were released after breakups, with “Thank U, Next” coming closely on the heels of her split from comedian Pete Davison, and appear to make a statement about each situation. On the surface, “Thank U, Next” appears to “thank” Ari’s exes, calling out things she’s “grateful” for from each of the relationships. The undertone, however, brushes them to the side much like a director would dismiss someone after a lackluster audition. 

During my first listen, I appreciated the catchiness of the beat right away, but when I heard the lyrics, I was less impressed. Much like “Thank U, Next,” “Yes, And” has a similar undertone of dismissiveness. Here’s an example:

[Chorus]

"Yes, and?" Say that shit with your chest, and

Be your own f*****' best friend

Say that shit with your chest

Keep moving like, "What's next?"

"Yes, and?"

[Verse 2]

Now, I'm so done with caring

What you think, no, I won't hide

Underneath your own projections

Or change my most authentic life

At first glance, you could say this is an anthem about brushing off the haters and remaining true to yourself, but if you read between the lines, you can see what’s really happening. What both “Yes, And” and “Thank U, Next” illustrate to me is that Ari has learned a lot from therapy, most notably how to “speak” therapy. Here’s another example from “Yes, And:”

[Bridge]

My tongue is sacred, I speak upon what I like

Protected, sexy, discerning with my time (My time)

Your energy is yours and mine is mine (It's mine, it's mine)

What's mine is mine

My face is sitting, I don't need no disguise (I don't need no disguise)

Don't comment on my body, do not reply

Your business is yours and mine is mine

Why do you care so much whose d*** I ride?

Why?

To me, these lyrics sound like someone using therapy-speak as a way to deflect. They’re being used as a sort of shield, while simultaneously acting as a weapon against her critics. The lines “Your business is yours and mine is mine” and “Why do you care so much whose d*** I ride?” disregard any ownership of the fact that as a celebrity, she has willingly put herself in the spotlight, she has made her business our business. In fact, her business – her success – literally relies on our support. Asking why we care about who she’s dating (or hooking up with, as she so delicately puts it) isn’t how international superstardom works.

It turns out I’m not alone in my reaction and rejection of the song. Despite its catchiness, “Yes, And” has received a fair amount of backlash from fans and has even resulted in over 350,000 unfollows from her Instagram according to Buzzfeed. “Monster” may be too harsh a term, but on some level we know there is narcissism at play here (for which I can’t really blame her – I mean, if I had her talent, I don’t know how I’d be humble about it). With that in mind, the question I have is around the role the ego plays in the effectiveness of therapy. In other words, does it stand in the way of therapy, essentially giving someone the language to better defend themselves against accountability? 

To me – and to probably every licensed therapist worth their salt – growth and healing do not look like memorizing therapy terms and phrases and weaponizing them against others. This is perhaps exactly what fans are picking up on and driving them to withdraw their support. Without being in the situation, there’s no way to know how I would handle it if I were in her position. From the outside, I can understand her frustration with the assumptions and accusations flying around about her, her body, and her relationship. It’s her response to it that I don’t align with.

In using therapy language, Ari is somewhat impenetrable because at face value, it’s true: her energy is hers and ours is ours. The difference, however, lies in her tone. It’s the way in which she uses the phrases, how they act as a proverbial middle finger. It’s, for lack of a better term, backhanded. What she’s doing is hiding behind a shroud of authenticity, coating her words with enough technical truth to pass as honesty, but using them to cut. She’s attempting to appear carefree, when in reality, she’s exposing her defensiveness. And defensiveness, which I myself have learned in therapy, is not a signal of growth but of denial.

I recognize this is a hot take, particularly given the fact that I do not know Ariana personally. However, you don’t have to have immense talent and celebrity to be a narcissist or have narcissistic tendencies – these personality types and traits

roam free under the radar all over the world. In fact, it’s something I’ve seen first-hand and been on the receiving end of from people I have personally known well, which is likely why it strikes such a chord with me. Narcissism is already a slippery condition to contend with – it’s rooted in entitlement and manipulation, after all – and with psychotherapy listed as the closest thing to a cure on reputable sites like Mayo Clinic, I suppose I am questioning whether it is helpful or detrimental.

Contrast Ari with another celebrity who has trauma like Selena Gomez and the difference is stark. Selena, who has been open about seeking therapy and has a significant amount of talent and fame like Ari, appears to take a completely opposite approach. Her songs like “Lose You To Love Me” and “The Heart Wants What It Wants” comment on her infamous relationship with Justin Bieber but instead focus on the vulnerable elements. In one, she’s admitting to her attraction to the toxicity and in the other, she’s stating her realization of needing to let it go. Nowhere in these songs – or in any of her others, for that matter – is she saying anything evasive or with a negative connotation. She’s not trying to prove anything, she’s simply stating her truth.

Sure, I don’t know Selena personally either, nor do I deny any narcissistic tendencies she may have, but in comparing the two – vocal ranges aside – Selena appears to have what Ari doesn’t: self-awareness. Selena strikes me as someone who has taken her learnings from therapy to heart, as she appears to both acknowledge and own her actions. She seems to know the power of her words and chooses to use them to uplift others, not slight them. It’s why every single item under her multibillion-dollar beauty brand, Rare Beauty, has a name to reflect that ethos.

To use Lilly’s phrasing, I, for one, do consider myself a girl’s girl. In comparing Ari and Selena, I in no way intend to pit them against each other. Both women are immensely talented and successful in their own right. I do, however, see that they have very different definitions of what “unapologetic expression” means – one of which is more healthy than the other, in my opinion.

Although the term “monster” is a tad hyperbolic here, the conclusion I’m drawing is how therapy-speak is making its way into the mainstream, both in everyday interactions with the people around us, as well as in the media and its figureheads. I can say from first-hand experience that therapy is an excellent tool for healing and self discovery. However, with instances (and egos) like Ari’s, it begs the classic question so many comic and fantasy book characters grapple with:

What happens when great power is used for the wrong reasons?