In “Flowers,” Miley Cyrus sings about the glorious end of a relationship. Things were good 'til they weren't. The song provides a fascinating gateway into the relationship of Subject and Object, and the role of subjectivity in our culture.
The catchy chorus goes, "I can buy myself flowers, write my name in the sand, I can take myself dancing, I can hold my own hand, I can love me better than you can." This is, of course, characteristic of the "self-love" movement in our culture, along with the empowerment of the individual to flourish without the need for external support. "I am enough, I don't need anybody else." At first glance, that's the message of the song.
This song explores the limits of subjectivity and individualization. While Cyrus is correct, she can buy herself flowers, she can take herself dancing, etc., she is mistaken to present these individual acts of solitude as an equal to (or better than) the acts experienced with another. Let’s take a look.
Buying Yourself Flowers
There is no dispute that you can buy yourself flowers. However, things are not so simple. First, let us examine the act of one's romantic partner buying you flowers. Here, the flowers themselves contain the inherent aesthetic value of beautiful flowers. But they also possess a value bestowed upon them in the "Act of Love" that is buying flowers for another. The flowers in this scenario, then, represent far more than their inherent aesthetic value. They are a representation of "love for the other," a symbol of that love, and a "sign" pointing towards the broader loving relationship.
In contrast, the act of buying oneself flowers does not contain that inherent symbol of the greater love. They are purchased simply for their inherent aesthetic value.
But we can take it one step further here. Not only is Cyrus lacking the inherent symbol of the broader loving relationship found when the partner buys flowers for the other, but here she is buying flowers as an act of rebellion, to boldly proclaim that she is free of the relationship and doesn't need what the partner was previously providing.
Before each chorus, Cyrus repeats that she "didn't want to leave," nor did she want to fight. She wasn't the one who wanted out. We can only assume that, in this aftermath, she was emotionally hurting. Buying the flowers for herself, then, is not the defiant individualistic statement of non-dependency that one might have originally assumed. No. Rather, it is a statement that she still misses her partner. The absence hurts so much that the only thing she can do is buy herself flowers etc. to artificially fill the void with loving acts that she was once receiving from him and that she valued. It would hurt so much more both for him to be gone, and to feel truly alone when she has no one to hold her hand, no one to dance with, and no one to buy her flowers. And so, in a desperate act to lessen the blow of this emotional devastation, she continues acting as if she is in the relationship, only with her partner absent.
Interestingly, she is not making herself available to others as a potential romantic partner even though she's going out dancing, a typically social occasion. Since she insists that she is dancing by/with herself, there is no space for the potential new Other to approach and offer itself as a potential alternative. Not in the slightest. Why? Because she is still acting as if she is in the relationship which has ended. The parts of life that are typically open to connection with others (dance partner, hand-holding, buying flowers, spontaneous acts of admiration such as writing one's name in the sand) are in a closed-loop with herself. Miley has entered Pure Subjectivity and is only in relation to herself. She is avoiding the anxiety of the abyssal emptiness left behind by the leaving partner.
But this is precisely what one must recognize: the only way to fully accept the loss of a partner in this fashion (and this applies not just to break-ups, but the death of a loved one too) is to stare the abyssal emptiness straight on. That is the true revolutionary act of individuality, of so-called “self-empowerment”.
Yes, I have been hurt, something beautiful torn from me in a shocking rip of the fabric protecting me from the terrifying Unknown. But I must also recognize that this event creates a new possibility, it opens up an infinitude that was previously closed. This can only occur once one recognizes the necessity of facing down the abyss. It is not easy, and in fact the thought is often so terrifying, the fear is often what drives one to never do so. It is the cause of existential anxiety, which many run from rather than driving through.
In the classic scene from Finding Nemo (2003), as Marlin and Dory make their way to Sydney to find Nemo, they are told that when they approach a large crevice, they must go through it, not over it. Dory, with her short-term memory loss, repeats "through it, not over it, through it, not over it," so that she does not forget, as the importance of following those instructions from emphasized heavily. But as they approach the crevice, the intimidating darkness overwhelms both of them. Dory stops repeating the instructions and almost immediately forgets them. They both start to second-guess whether they should, in fact, go through it. So horrorful does it seem that they decide instead to go over it. At first, it seems to be the better choice after all: the water is clear, they can see all the way to the other side, to the current of water they need to ride. But almost immediately, as they start to make their way, an expansive swarm of jellyfish surrounds them. In an attempt to avoid what first appeared to be the more terrifying path, the characters now find themselves in real danger.
Is this not precisely how we act in the face of dread? And so, often we take paths that seem to help us deal with the emptiness. But at best, they delay the inevitable confrontation, and at worst, take us down a much more dangerous path.
In "Flowers," Miley is only delaying the inevitable.
Holding Your Own Hand
Much like the act of buying oneself flowers, holding one's own hand fails to provide the same experience as having one's hand held by another. And rather than simply provide the aesthetic element of a relationship (there are still fresh flowers in the vase, and therefore everything is still ok), holding one's own hand even more plainly denotes this closed-loop system. To hold one's own hand, one has to cross their arms over one's body, displaying a closed-off body language and literally closing the loop: my hands are not available to be held. Yes, both hands are held by the other, but in another sense, my hand is not held at all. I cannot substitute the physical feeling of being touched by another with my own body. I do not feel that same feeling. (If you think about this for just a moment, an obvious example might become clear.)
So while Miley can indeed hold her own hand, this is no substitute for her hand being held by another. Again, this is an attempt only to delay the unavoidable confrontation with one's own solitude.
Loving Yourself Better Than Another Can
Finally, we get to the final refrain in the chorus, "I can love me better than you can."
Now, this is a slightly different statement than the previous four, as it is not a simple statement of ability. Rather, it's a value judgment. She is stating that her ability to love herself is better than his ability to love her.
Investigating this statement is a little more difficult as a result. We don't know whether the other's love was brilliant, terrible, so bad as to be "negative" etc. but of course, things were good, they were gold… until they weren't. So, what we can glean here is a sense that, if they truly were good, there was good love between the two of them, and that obviously deteriorated over time.
Now, as already discussed, there is an inherent value in experiencing such a relationship, even when it turns sour (to a degree. I hope it wasn't a purely damaging experience, but based on the song it doesn't appear to have been.)
What I think is most worth exploring here is the idea of loving oneself (especially as one compares it to the love of another.) At first, I was tempted to say that I don't particularly even know what it means to love oneself. But I have far less of a problem with the idea that one can hate oneself, and so that's where I can start. Since it is possible to hate oneself and talk oneself into a fit of depression, lack of "self-esteem," etc., it must be possible at a minimum to negate this possibility and at most perform the opposite function, to actively love oneself instead of actively hating oneself.
The crucial question then becomes whether this self-love, however we define it (but accepting that it is possible) is comparable to receiving the love of another. Generally, we must conclude that it is not. One cannot replace the love of another with self-love, satisfactorily.
We must understand that receiving the love of another is an entirely passive act, especially when it is pure love not tinged with demands, contractual consideration etc. We must do nothing except not get in its way, and we receive the love of another. Self-love, on the other hand, requires as much effort to be put into it as one can get out of it. It's effectively a zero-sum game. You're only breaking even rather than making a profit (which, in a healthy relationship, can then be invested back into the relationship freely.)
So while self-love might be possible (even if it is, at a minimum, a lack of self-harm), it certainly cannot replace the love of another as Miley indicates here.
Does this make “Flowers” a bad song full of philosophical contradictions that detract from one’s ability to enjoy it? Quite the opposite. I think it makes it a much more interesting, deep, and enjoyable song.
There are some nuances missing from the above, but let me know to what extent to you agree.