The Gen Z Gender Divide: Why Sabrina Carpenter’s Music Resonates

Sabrina Carpenter’s latest album, Man’s Best Friend, is more than just a pop sensation. As researchers of masculinity, we see her work as a significant cultural marker of a wider social phenomenon: the growing gender divide among Generation Z. Carpenter’s lyrics and provocative album art capture the palpable exasperation of young women who feel that healthy relationships are increasingly out of reach, a sentiment backed by data.

While Taylor Swift's ballads may have embodied the millennial dream of love, Carpenter's music for Gen Z reflects a different reality. The song "Nobody's Son" echoes a common feeling we've found in our research: there's "nobody... left for me to believe in." The statistics are stark: 62% of single Gen Z women report they are not looking to date at all, compared to just 37% of men. This widespread withdrawal from committed relationships has significant implications for everything from fertility rates to political futures.

The frustrations of Gen Z women are not unfounded. They face a disproportionate amount of emotional labor in relationships, compounded by rising economic insecurity. Meanwhile, a "manosphere" narrative blames women for male loneliness, ignoring the decline in male friendships and communal spaces. Carpenter’s title, Man’s Best Friend, brilliantly captures the irony of dating men who release their long-bottled emotions in a romantic relationship rather than with friends. Her song "Tears" further highlights the low bar for respect in modern relationships, as she sings about being surprised by basic courtesy. This lack of respect is reflected in data showing that Gen Z men are increasingly adhering to restrictive masculine norms and are less likely to agree that feminism has improved society.

The problem is exacerbated by emerging technologies. As the market for digital intimacy explodes, platforms offering AI "companions" and "girlfriends" exploit male insecurities and the stigma around seeking help. These platforms, which paywall emotional connection, profit from keeping men emotionally isolated. While they may offer a temporary solution to the "loneliness crisis," they ultimately reinforce a pattern of emotional suppression and a fear of vulnerability that fuels the gender divide.

Carpenter's provocative album art, which was condemned by some as "soft porn for the male gaze," serves as a masterful piece of irony. Through it, she makes clear that she is in control of the narrative, not consumed by it. She uses her art to express the frustrations of a generation of women, asking who is truly responsible for this "masculinity crisis." Her answer, in the song "Manchild," is simple: “I choose to blame your mom.” By doing so, she puts the responsibility for solutions back where it belongs—not on women.

Sabrina Carpenter's rise, along with other artists like Olivia Rodrigo, forces us to confront a critical question: how can young people move beyond this frustration to form healthy relationships? The despondency about dating is not new, but the widening gender divide and the rise of digital replacements for intimacy pose a unique threat to the fabric of our society. It leaves us to wonder if young men will become more emotionally available, and if so, whether we will even recognize it when it happens.