The Trouble With Power: Sabrina Carpenter

Let me begin with a confession: I was charmed by Espresso. The flirtation, the boldness, the winking lines that toed the edge between self-possession and seduction: Sabrina Carpenter was in her pop star bag, and I was rooting for her.

Espresso was sticky with self-awareness. Fun without being frivolous. A femme-pop high that made space for cheeky sexuality without leaning on the predictable scaffolding of male fantasy.

It was clever.
She was clever.

But now, watching the rollout of her Man’s Best Friend era, I find myself pausing.

The kind of pause that catches in your throat.

The kind that says: "I hope this isn’t what it looks like."

‘Manchild’ and the Fantasy of the Dangerous Road

Let’s talk about the Manchild music video.

It opens with Sabrina hitchhiking in a pair of platform heels and cutoff denim shorts, somewhere in the sun-bleached desert. It’s a familiar pop trope: think Lana, Britney, Madonna, but one with deeply uncomfortable roots.

This isn’t just a fantasy of freedom.
It’s one of exposure. Of danger. Of woman-as-bait.

Hitchhiking is not a neutral image for women. It carries with it decades of danger narratives: from true crime stories to horror films to cautionary tales whispered between girls. The woman on the side of the road isn’t empowered, she’s vulnerable.

Yes, Sabrina flips the script in the final act of the video, turning the camera around on the men who pick her up. But does a bloody reversal erase what’s been stylised in the first place? Or does it re-perform it?

That’s the trouble: when you borrow the language of trauma to be edgy, and then don’t interrogate it, you risk reinforcing the very harm you say you’re undoing.

Man’s Best Friend and the Aesthetic of Submission

Then there’s the album cover.

Carpenter, on all fours. A man, faceless, anonymous, clutching her hair. The title: Man’s Best Friend.

It’s striking. But not in the way Espresso was. That was empowerment through wit. This feels like submission without satire.

Kink aesthetics have a place in the art world. There’s nothing inherently wrong with invoking power play. But the missing ingredient here is framing. Where’s the context? The metaphor? The invitation to look deeper?

Without it, this isn’t performance: it’s posturing.

And when the line between critique and replication is this thin, we have to ask:

Who is this for?

Pop Stardom, the Gaze, and What We Pass Down

Sabrina Carpenter is no longer an emerging artist. She’s the pop girl of the moment. Millions of young fans watch her every move, not just what she sings, but how she frames womanhood, agency, and sexuality.

That kind of visibility is power. And with power comes responsibility: not to sanitise or censor, but to consider the impact of the art we present on a global stage.

Because when you’re being watched by the next generation, your visuals don’t live in a vacuum. They echo. They teach. They land.

So What Are We Reclaiming, Exactly?

We talk a lot about “reclaiming” imagery: owning the gaze, choosing objectification as power. But if the image we’re reclaiming is still a woman on all fours with a man above her… what are we actually taking back?

Because if the answer is “everyone gets it,” but the execution is indistinguishable from patriarchy’s greatest hits: then we’re not reclaiming.
We’re reselling.

And at that point, are we even subverting?
Or are we just packaging old power in new glitter?

A Raised Eyebrow

Let me be clear: this is not a cancellation. This is a raised eyebrow.

A quiet “Are we sure?”

I’m not here to label Sabrina Carpenter as anti-feminist, nor demand that every pop star become an activist. What I’m asking is: if we’re going to play with fire, can we at least explain what we’re burning down?

Because if this is satire…let us in.


If it’s critique… frame it.


If it’s empowerment… tell us who is empowered.

Right now, it’s not clear. And in the silence, it’s easy for the male gaze to take over again.

This is not about outrage.
It’s about care.

If I didn’t respect Sabrina as a writer and performer, I wouldn’t be asking these questions. But I do. Which is why I am.

If this era is an experiment, then let’s ask: what are we testing?And who are we making space for in the results?