Mother Monster has risen: Lady Gaga returns to save pop - and maybe us all
With her new album Mayhem, Gaga isn’t just reclaiming her throne - she’s stepping back into the fight for LGBTQ+ rights at a time when we need her most.
Yes, another gay writing about Lady Gaga. Groundbreaking. But let’s be real: when Gaga returns, we show UP. The world may keep spinning, but pop culture - or at least the parts of it that still care about artistry, activism, and actual vocals - holds its breath. And with Mayhem, we’re exhaling in relief, because not only is Gaga back, she’s back with purpose.
The album itself is a riot. A neon-lit, high-drama spectacle that blends the dancefloor delirium of The Fame Monster with the grit of Born This Way and the unhinged theatricality of Artpop. The reviews have already picked apart the production (flawless), the lyrics (messy, in the best way), and the vocals (otherworldly), but what’s striking isn’t just how good the music is - it’s what Mayhem represents. This isn’t just another pop album. This is Gaga re-entering the chat, and she’s not just here to promote a record - she’s here to raise hell.
Because let’s be honest, we’ve needed her. We’ve needed someone with enough star power to drown out the noise, to speak up when so many others have chosen silence. It’s been a bleak few years for LGBTQ+ rights, particularly for our trans brothers and sisters, who have been at the centre of relentless attacks from both the media and the political right. The UK has become a battleground, with the rollback of trans rights, Wes Stirling’s stance on puberty blockers, and a government that sees LGBTQ+ lives as nothing more than a political pawn. In the U.S., the situation isn’t much better. Across the world, we’ve seen the rise of anti-LGBTQ+ rhetoric, book bans, drag bans, and a suffocating sense that the progress we fought for is slipping through our fingers.
And where have our pop idols been?
Too many of them have chosen to play it safe, worried about brand deals and marketability. We’ve been gaslit into thinking “staying neutral” is some kind of noble stance, that refusing to address the erosion of our rights is somehow an act of grace rather than complicity. But neutrality has never been an option for us, and it certainly isn’t an option for our icons.
Enter Gaga.
She’s not just dropping bangers; she’s speaking up. At the Grammys, she dedicated her performance to the trans community, directly calling out the legislative attacks happening across the U.S. and the UK’s disgraceful rollback on trans rights. She’s been amplifying organisations like the Human Rights Campaign, openly condemning Wes Stirling’s stance on puberty blockers, and making it clear that her allyship isn’t a branding exercise - it’s a fundamental part of who she is. And it always has been.
Because before Born This Way was an anthem, before the Haus of Gaga was a movement, before she was the most awarded woman in Grammy history, Gaga was the girl who shouted “Don’t ask, don’t tell is bullshit!” at a rally in Maine. She was the popstar getting heckled by conservatives for advocating same-sex marriage before it was legal. She was the global superstar who built an entire foundation dedicated to LGBTQ+ youth empowerment. And while her recent years have been spent more in jazz lounges than protest lines, Mayhem is a reminder that she’s never stopped caring - she’s just been waiting for the right moment to come back swinging.
And swing she does. Lyrically, Mayhem taps into that raw, defiant energy that made Gaga’s early work so vital. Abracadabra is a euphoric, queer-club-ready spell of self-love and rebellion, while All Night drips with sweaty, urgent, leather-clad euphoria. But then there’s Glass House, a stunning, heart-wrenching ballad that reads like a love letter to a community under attack. “They say my walls are cracking, but I built them out of stone,” she croons, and it’s impossible not to hear it as a metaphor for queer resilience. For all the camp and chaos of Mayhem, it’s moments like this that prove why Gaga still matters.
For me, and for so many queer people, Gaga has always been more than just a pop star. She was a beacon in those early, closeted years, when the world felt impossibly small and suffocating. I remember the first time I heard Born This Way - not just heard it, but felt it, the way it cracked something open inside me. It wasn’t just a song; it was permission. Permission to exist, to be proud, to take up space in a world that wanted us to shrink.
And that’s why her return feels so monumental.
Mayhem isn’t just an album. It’s a call to arms. It’s a reminder that pop music isn’t just about chart positions or viral moments - it’s about culture, community, and, sometimes, revolution. Gaga isn’t just here to entertain us; she’s here to remind us who the fuck we are.
And if history has taught us anything, it’s that when Gaga leads, we follow.