A self-described "silly dumb girl saying these actually very smart things," over the past five years TikTok sensation Chrissy Chlapecka has built a femme-pire as an semi-accidental pioneer of the #BimboTok movement. Now, following the brazen breakout success of her 2023 single "I'm So Hot," the 24-year-old former theater kid is realizing all of the pop-star dreams she had when she was just a shy, sad girl singing alone in her childhood bedroom.
Chlapecka's Girlie Pop EP, dropping like a big pink glitterbomb in the middle of Pride Month's first week, is a tour de force of high camp, hyperpop, and hyper-femininity — combining influences ranging from Chlapecka's Broadway idol Bernadette Peters to "Stars Are Blind"-era Paris Hilton, Blackout-era Britney, and Artpop-era Gaga, and effectively launching a quintessentially-Chrissy new era for Chlapecka.
In the fascinating video interview above and the Q&A below, the real Chlapecka (the one behind the "character" she has created) opens up about her traumatic youth and how music saved her life; how she reinvented herself as a social media starlet; why women in pop in general are targeted with so much hate; and why "bimbo feminism" is true feminism, despite what her haters might claim.
MUSIC TIMES: Obviously you're already famous on TikTok for your activism and your awesomeness and all that. What made you want to get into music at this point, a few years into your fame?
CHRISSY CHLAPECKA: I'm so grateful for my time on TikTok and all the things I was doing before, and it's definitely such a pivotal moment in my career that really made me blossom. But I will say music was always the goal for me growing up. I was a little Broadway baby. I loved musical theater. I was in every choir, every band, orchestra, you name it. Music was just really my lifeline, forever. I definitely stumbled into the TikTok-ification of it all and made a really fun career out of it... but I still always wanted to do music as well. It just felt like it was really time to go back to my roots and back to what really made Chrissy Chrissy. That's why I began it again.
You've talked about feeling awkward in high school, as many of us have. Was theater something you turned to find your friends, your community, your tribe?
Totally, yeah. I think the only place I felt comfortable, honestly, was in a practice room or in the choir or in musical theater. I was an extremely shy person. I was extremely insecure. And the only moments I had really felt like I could connect with myself, or with my higher self, was when I was making music. I think getting a little older after high school, [I was trying to] find that feeling, like, "How do I take that feeling into every day? How do I walk with this every moment of my life?" I really embodied that, and I think music is really the reason I am the way I am today, which is phenomenal. And I am grateful for the moments in high school where I was brave enough to audition for things, to be myself in those spaces, because I really did feel on top of the world. I really did feel famous in my own way.
When you started doing music, the press reaction was immediately accepting and positive. Rolling Stone called you one of the "brightest pop stars to watch of 2023," and People placed you at No. 4 on their "talented emerging artists" list for 2024. Were you surprised by that? I imagine there might've been some concern that you would not be taken seriously as an artist.
I was very pleasantly surprised that the feedback was very great. I will say too, though... just knowing my history with music, I was like, "I know what I do is going to be good. I know my artistry is going to be good." I also do realize that my artistry is very niche and campy and comedic, and I was very accepting of the fact that maybe at this point in my career, today, people may not fully understand it. But I had every faith that in a couple of years or even tomorrow, people are going to be absolutely dying over it. So, it was very affirming to get that kind of feedback so early on. And I do believe I'll be able to live up to that, because I feel so strongly about what I'm doing.
You have anthems titled "I'm Really Pretty" and "I'm So Hot." Usually when women big up themselves like that, they get haters. Women aren't supposed to engage in that sort of braggadocio. Tell me a little bit about how you're owning that in your lyrics.
You are 100 percent right. I have gotten lots of feedback that has not been necessarily positive about my choice of lyricism. Also, though, why does it matter so much that a woman, a hyper-feminine queer person, is sitting here and is just like, "I'm hot, I'm pretty"? Is that really what we want to focus on? What is going on in the world that we're so pissed off about that? Also, it's just very interesting how you're so right: You have to undermine yourself. You have to put yourself down a little bit and be like, "No, no, I'm nothing!" But it's like, I'm the whole world. And you are too.
With my trajectory online as well, that has always been what I've been trying to get across: that there is so much beauty, obviously other than outer beauty, but why not embrace all those types of beauty? There's beauty in our identities and our queerness, in the way we walk through the world in our own experiences. And it can be just as simple as saying, "I'm really pretty" or "I'm so hot." There's truthfully nothing wrong with that, in any aspect at all. It is interesting, the amount of hate I got after I released "I'm Really Pretty." It turned into a very huge online argument where I was like, "I think you guys are completely missing the point of, one, everything I'm saying in the song, and two, everything I've been saying forever." But I also think sometimes people like to backpedal on what they love about women, or hate them very easily at a flick of a dime.
I read a quote from one of my favorite RuPaul's Drag Race queens ever, Bimini, who called you "part of a new wave of women subverting the male gaze by playing up the bimbo stereotype on camera while asserting their own feminist politics." I thought that was on point. I think it comes down to the fact that many people assume that when women try to look attractive, when they do their hair or put on makeup, that it's for the male gaze — not for themselves, or for any other reason, but to attract men. And therefore, if men don't like it, then it must be no good. I'm sure you have lots of thoughts about that...
Oh yeah, it's very frustrating. I know I have my kind of natural makeup on right now, but most of the time I view the stuff I do and the way I dress within makeup and fashion and music as a form of drag. And men don't like drag. Also, men don't like hyper-femininity. There's so much queerness coded into extreme hyper-femininity that is not attractive to men, regardless. And so, it is so impossible to walk through the world as a woman, or really anyone, without everyone thinking what you're doing is catering to men. Why is our conversation always solely around what a man is going to think about it, rather than how do we feel about it? How does this make me feel in my body? Do I feel confident today? Do I feel like myself today? Do I feel like I have gotten the chance to express who Chrissy is, or whoever you are today? The conversation itself around these things always just turns to men, which is just so backwards in my opinion.
And I also think the conversation, unfortunately, feeds so difficultly into rape culture as well, because it turns into a whole, like, "Well, what were you wearing? Were you asking for it? Was it this? Was it that?" And in my head I'm like, "Oh, didn't we want to get away from that?" But every time I now show up the way that I do and be the person I am, it's always like, "Oh, see, look what she's wearing. She's the reason this happens. She's the reason that happens." And I'm like, "Whoa, actually, the reason these things happen are because men make it happen, not because I decided to wear a crop top today."
Yes, and we women have been told all our lives that we need to look pretty for men — but we're not supposed to have vanity or make effort to look pretty. We're supposed to take five minutes to get ready, not wear too much makeup and hair extensions, not get cosmetic surgery, not diet, etc. Basically, we are supposed to wake up like this, and pretend that we don't care how we look. There's a lot of layers to this...
Oh my gosh, yeah. We could talk for hours about this alone! It's layered. It's deep. It's crazy.
You've talked a lot about this stuff on TikTok. Whether you stumbled into it or not, you became the queen of what is known as #BimboTok. For those who don't know about that subculture, can you explain what that is?
The arc of it all was that I had just started posting online, being silly and just being authentically Chrissy, and it was getting a lot of attraction, which was super-fun and funny. It was cool that people thought I was humorous. And then I had gotten a comment from now one of my best friends, Griffin Maxwell Brooks, who also was part of the #BimboTok movement with me. They had commented "bimbo-fication" on one of my posts, and I was like, "That's funny." One thing about me is that I love a bit; I think it's the theater girl in me. I will take a bit and I will run with it as far as I can. And that's kind of what sparked this. Obviously [Griffin was] not saying that in a way that was supposed to be derogatory or anything. It was said in a way that was celebratory. And so, I was like, "Wait, this is a very interesting take that I can go with." ... It was definitely playing into a shtick and playing into the stereotype that, honestly, I've gotten my whole life. It wasn't just the "bimbo" thing, it was like, "dumb blonde." I've always been also extremely feminine and played with makeup and stuff, and I've been heavily judged for that throughout middle school and high school, when it was just fun for me and my way of diving into my world of drag as an adult now.
And so, I took that, and I created this video that of course played into this character and also had a lot of, I feel, very great ideals and very good points that I was trying to get across. It was really just the juxtaposition of this silly dumb girl saying these actually very smart things. It was more just supposed to be centered around [the idea that] no matter what somebody looks like or how they present themselves or walk through this world, they have something to offer. And they probably have good views as well. That was mainly what I was trying to get across with a character, because at the end of the day, I'm a theater girl and I needed and wanted to create this character. I would say now the bimbo character is definitely with me, and I think she's carried into aspects of entertainment with my music videos and the humorous stuff that I do there — but it's really just the cheeky side of Chrissy that's kind of always wink-wink, mixed with the things that I really care about, whether it's music or politics or whatever.
People have wildly different ideas of what feminism is, and I'm sure you've gotten flak — with some people saying that your version of feminism is taking the movement back or isn't really feminist. What does feminism and its evolution mean to you?
I think "feminism" is such a broad word. I guess that my version of feminism, or my version of the way people critique my feminism, is that I think there's spaces for people to be hyper-feminine and hyper-queer and show those things about them to the world. And they should be able to do that safely, in a way that doesn't put a target on their back. I think the critique that I have gotten, which I strongly disagree with, is that the way that I'm dressing or presenting myself is putting a target on my back, and that it's ruining it for me and for this person behind me and the next woman and the next person. And I absolutely refuse to believe that any moment when I am being promiscuous or being larger-than-life or embracing who I am, that that is centered towards men. I refuse to believe that because of that, I am now a "victim" to men — and that I deserve to be. I think it is extremely backwards and almost puritanical to be putting these expectations onto women about how we're supposed to look and dress and act and walk and what we're supposed to say and do — and not "mess up."
It seems like your message is getting across.
Well, I feel like three years ago when I was doing this, people really understood what I was saying, and now three years later, people are completely backpedaling. ... I think just from the critiques I've been getting, I'm noticing people backpedaling about it. And it's quite frustrating, because I feel like it's putting — again — women in boxes, which means you're excluding all types of women: hyper-feminine women, queer women, women of color, trans women, disabled women. I mean, the list just goes on and on and on, because you're creating this version of what a perfect woman has to be. And I'm like, "Where are we? The 1800s?" When you put women in boxes, what are we all doing? Then we're all sitting in a f---ing box. The problem is above us: the men and the patriarchy, and the ways that we are not deciding to work together, and the ways that we are pointing fingers at each other in a loop while nothing happens. And it's quite frustrating, because I believe my version of feminism is so inclusive and accepting of all types of women and people and queerness. It's just fluid. It's not supposed to be so rigid. I feel like right now I'm getting put in such a rigid box of, "This girl is wrong, this girl's bad, what she said doesn't make sense." And really all I was saying was like, "I want us to be ourselves. I want us to celebrate ourselves in whatever that is, and however that is. And however you do it, you aren't a target. However you do it, you should feel safe." That was the whole point. I could go on for hours about it.
What do you think has happened in the last three years to make this backpedaling happen?
Oh, I've seen multiple times people switch up on women very quickly — like, they love what they're doing, and then everyone decides to dogpile and be like, "Actually f---them!" For no reason. I see this quite primarily in women who make music, and around the time that I started making music, the conversations around women in pop music were so extremely vulgar and disgusting, in my opinion — the way that people feel like they can have access to our bodies or our autonomy or just every little bit of our lives. I've just watched the way people speak about Ariana Grande and what's going on in her life, or the switch-up they'll do with other women on the internet, other women in pop.
Jennifer Lopez, right now, is getting that sort of backlash really hard.
Yeah, yeah. It's just like that. Also, none of these women have really done anything [to deserve that]. Ariana Grande, for example — what has she done that's that horrible, that she deserves this giant hate train? It's her personal life. I guess I'm trying to say is I've noticed the conversations around women who make music are a lot worse, so I feel like when I entered music and then my music started saying, "I'm so hot and I'm really pretty," which is exactly what I've been saying from the beginning... the conversation just completely went on its head and turned into a hate train of, "Oh, f--- her." ... But they'll come back! [laughs] It's not that big of a deal to me, but it is very interesting. ... People treat women in the music industry like dummies that they can throw around and say whatever they want to, because they don't really see them as real people.
Yet you are continuing to put yourself out there, musically and otherwise. You talk about being insecure, but you don't come across as insecure to me. You seem brave to me. What keeps you going and just pushing ahead?
What else is there to do? I guess that's kind of where I'm at. Thank you for saying that. It feels nice to be told I'm brave, and I do feel like I am brave. I think a lot of it stems from childhood and the way I had to be brave as a child and as a young adult. And now in my early twenties, I think one thing about me is I will always keep pushing, especially if it's something that I love and believe in. Music is something that runs so incredibly deep and means so much to me, on such a multitude of levels. It truly saved my life. That is not an understatement. It really is what keeps me going. And no matter how things are received right now, or no matter how many streams I get or how many people understand what I'm doing, I'm not going to stop. Because how many times has an artist who was wildly misunderstood, 10 years later been understood, finally? I mean, think of Lady Gaga's Artpop era. No one got what she was doing at all then, and then 10 years later, it charted again and people were like, "Wait, this was ahead of its time!"
You talked about how you had to be brave as a child. Do you mind me asking about that?
I had a lot of family problems growing up, and a lot of that did lead to me being quite alone as a child. Not during a lot of my life did I feel like there were many people caring for me or watching over me. So, growing up and figuring out, "OK, how do I function through this world? How do I just exist as a human being without a lot of guidance for one reason or another?" — it was brave of me. It was brave to figure out a lot of adult things at quite a young age. So much of the time from when I was five to 18 years old, I would get home from school, I'd get home from rehearsal — and I'd make sure I was at school the longest possible, because I didn't want to go home — and when I would get home, I'd immediately run to my room and turn on my stereo. I would just play this fantasy of, "I'm a pop star today," or "I'm on Broadway," and that's where I would train, basically. That's where I learned all these really cool things about my voice, and I learned the things I loved about theater and about pop music and about myself. It was such a formative journey, honestly, to just be stuck in my room, learning how to make music and be myself and function through the world.
As a child, I was also quite scared of a lot of the things going on around me. So, I'll always go back to the moments alone in my room where I was finding my bravery through singing and music and acting and dancing, creating these shows in my head. And now, as an adult doing that onstage, it's surreal. It makes me feel like another level of brave. The moments before I go onstage and I'm nervous and I'm scared, I'm always like, "OK, just pretend it's you in your mirror." That's the reason I'm kind of like, "I don't give a f---, but I give a f---, but I don't give a f---" to the younger me, because she didn't have a lot of guidance. She didn't have a lot of care, and she was scared. But she figured out her way through it. I think that's why now when I feel sometimes like everyone hates me or I'm not doing anything right, I'm like, "Ugh, no, I'm fine. I've felt this before." I felt this on a wilder level before as a child, and now as an adult I have the access of things I used to not. I have the information and the bravery and the courage to just keep being me and keep showing that to the world. I love that now, and I know other people will understand it later.
I don't know what your relationship is with your family now, but are you in touch with them? How do they feel about this empire that you've built for yourself?
I'll say my brother Kevin is my best friend in the world. When I think of "family," I think of him. He is my older gay brother. He taught me so much. He got me into musical theater. He is the reason I was able to accept my queerness and figure that out in a safe way, because he did it first. I owe so much to him. He's my best friend and the light of my life. To think about all the times he and I would go to each other's plays growing up, or go in the basement and record TV shows and stuff like that, and then to see where I'm at now, it feels good, and I know he's immensely proud of me. He's my biggest champion, and that is really all that matters to me, having his love and support. If I want to prove anything to anyone, it's him. I want to make him proud, and I'm really grateful to have done that so far.
I think it's interesting that there's a lot of people, if they've gone through any kind of childhood trauma, they minimize themselves or dim their light. They want to be invisible or become smaller. But you did the opposite.
As a child, I definitely was the wallflower. I would still experiment with clothing and makeup and stuff, but it was hard for me to be perceived. I didn't like that feeling very much; I only liked it onstage or when I was singing in choir, the spaces I felt most comfortable. There were lots of moments where I tried to minimize myself: head down, look small, don't draw attention. I do know that one of the catalysts to how I broke out of that was when I was 18 or 19, I was in a pretty abusive relationship, and when I had finally gotten the courage to get out of that, I just basically was like, "F--- this!" I didn't blame myself for, of course, anything that happened, but I was like, "Why am I making myself feel so small? Why am I allowing people to maybe treat me like this?" I just had this come-to-Jesus moment where I was just like, "This is not how I want to feel. This is not how I want to live my life. I want to be big. I want to be tough. I want to say, 'Screw this.' I want to speak my mind. I want to say the things I've always wanted to, but I've been so afraid to" — because of the situations I had unfortunately been in. And from there, I gained all of this confidence and respect for myself, and also grace for myself, for the things I had gone through and the ways I had been treated. That now has developed into the Chrissy that I know and you are seeing today. I love her. We've got stuff to work on still, but I am honored to be in the position where I am happy, and I'm proud of myself, and I'm ready for the next batch of work.
And now you're doing for your young followers what people like Lady Gaga did for you growing up.
Gosh, it makes me emotional to think about that! Sometimes I have such a hard time believing and knowing that the things I say do make such an impact. Of course, I know that people are receiving it well and stuff, but when I've met fans at shows of mine, even this last show when I just opened for Trixie Mattel at Stone Pony Summer stage — which was such a surreal experience — afterwards I just started getting kind of crowded around, and I was like, whoa. Sometimes I forget that people are perceiving me too, because we're here for Trixie. I had just so many fans come up to me and be like, "I have been following you for years. I love everything you're doing. I'm so proud of you seeing you follow your dream into pop." It just feels so nice getting that validation, and then also hearing from them. I have heard a lot of, "You've really helped me become myself, you've helped me be proud of my queerness and proud of the person I am today."
And that's the reason I feel like I do anything I do. I'm happy to do it because of course it fuels me and it fuels my inner child, but seeing that it makes somewhat of a difference in somebody's life, that's an irreplaceable feeling that I don't think I will ever forget, every moment that it happens. I feel that in my heart and in my body, and it's great because I think of little me listening to Lady Gaga and being like, "This is my mother. This is who I want to be. This is my guidance." And to think, although I'm on a small scale, that maybe I'm that for someone, it's surreal, because I know how much that impacted me. And I still feel that way today. I still credit women like Gaga or Ariana Grande or even my Broadway stars like Bernadette Peters for why I'm me. And if I can be that person for someone, that means I'm doing something right. And that's success for me.
This Q&A has been edited for brevity and clarity. Watch Chrissy Chlapecka;s full conversation with Music Times in the split-screen video above.
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