The struggle to breach the micromanaged insulation of one of the world’s best-known pop stars is not to be mistaken for a list of petty gripes, or even complaints. It is entirely understandable why Spears would be cautious, especially now, when cameras hide snugly in every pocket and purse. The paparazzi is everyone. Every question I am not allowed to ask hovers somewhere, invisibly, in the space between us. In this fragment of time, I begin to realize Spears is not playing defense. She’s on offense. And it’s working.
“I don’t understand your question.”
Dumbly, I have asked her something risky. I think I’ve asked her why, after everything she has been through, she still chooses to put herself back out there, exposing herself to so much scrutiny and all of the predictable and unpredictable ways in which we—the public—decide to lift up or tear down our most famous fellow humans. It’s a risk she can avoid simply by quitting.
“What is your question?” she asks, leaning forward from the couch we’re sharing.
I attempt to restructure what I’ve put forward, leading it along. “You’re going to keep performing despite what comes?” I propose, suggesting there may have been some hurdles teed up before. She runs with it.