There is a new generation of divas dominating pop culture, and I’m glad. When we said goodbye to the era of Whitney Houston, Mariah Carey and Jennifer Lopez, it seemed for a while that they might be replaced by the “High School Musical” kids or the Jonas Brothers, which scared me. There is nothing more disconcerting than seeing a 20-year-old woman go into an apoplectic fit at the mention of Justin Beiber, or turn misty-eyed over the for-show romance of Zac Efron and Vanessa Hudgens. We deserve more from our pop stars.

In the golden hey-day of the 1990s, it seemed as though female pop stars could do no evil. I’m talking pre-Britney, pre-Christina and pre-teeny pop – when Celine Dion wasn’t afraid to declare her love, Alanis Morissette got angry, The Cranberries got zombied and Sinead O’Connor stirred up controversy. Music was adult; it was difficult and emotional, and it didn’t shy away from sex or pain. And then, come 2000, the music industry got caught in a hurricane of sweetness, stuffing Mandy Moore, the Spice Girls and P!nk down our throats. It was fine – new and exciting even – but instead of circling back to the adults, artists began to get younger, Disney-fied and Hillary Duff’ed into a blonde, adorable, slightly pedophilic mold – despite the fact that the original audience had gotten older. Music lost pace with our generation – offering us the Jonas Brothers when we deserved the Kings of Leon – and, sadly, many teenagers found themselves so caught up in a “High School Musical” frenzy that they weren’t able to see the irony of their obsession when they already had, or were having, their own high school experience.

I’m not sure who decided to allow a prepubescent cherub like Justin Bieber to sing to me about love, but I do know that it makes me uncomfortable. Even the Jonas Brothers-mania is creepy to me; although they are near college-aged, the JoBros never pretended to be adults. Hipster pretention aside, their cheery vision of love always seems to play down to the audience. Am I not adult enough to see through the simplistic lyrics of their music – or, for that matter, those of Taylor Swift’s “You Belong to Me”? I have seen all of John Hughes’ movies; I know how the story ends.

The Jan. 31 Grammy Awards reflected on the music of 2009, and they were platform for some interesting contrasts. On one hand, we have the Ke$has of the world; on the other, Beyoncé, the prototypical new millennium diva, and the type of female musician that our generation deserves. Lady Gaga, Rihanna and Beyoncé all embody a type of female, adult strength that seems more appropriate than Taylor Swift’s watered-down rebel persona. They don’t pretend to be silly or younger than they are, and their ability to actually perform their music live proves that they aren’t just some inorganic concoction of the music industry.

Now that Whitney Houston’s comeback has tragically failed and Mariah Carey has been reduced to a caricature of curves filled with nothing more substantial than unicorn tears, there is room for the new divas to grow and breathe. Their distinctive qualities include actual talent, a tendency to not wear pants and an ability to project confidence. I’m sick of listening to prepubescent boys tell me about the power of love, or of turning on the radio and being assaulted by another Taylor Swift song in which she pretends that she isn’t completely gorgeous and capable of getting any guy she wants. I don’t want my music dumbed-down anymore. If I want to indulge in saccharine tunes I’ll listen to the Backstreet Boys. I propose we leave teeny-boppers where they belong – in the early 2000s – and demand that pop music treat us like the intelligent adults that we are.

Whitney McAniff is a sophomore in the College. The 52 Percent appears every other Monday at thehoya.com.