Chappell Roan: the Grammy-winning pop supernova

And now the Missouri musician with a waterfall of red curls is a top Grammy winner, having snapped up the prestigious prize for Best New Artist.

Her over-the-top theater kid persona, complete with wildly lavish costumes and high-drama makeup that nods to drag culture, made her an unstoppable force on the festival circuit.

And since then, the 26-year-old has since been truly inescapable -- on TikTok, the radio, streaming, late-night shows and, eventually, a viral media cycle over her lukewarm support of presidential candidate Kamala Harris that proved, in case anyone doubted it, just how big she'd gotten.

In an industry thirsty for "moments," it seemed like Roan was a rare bird who appeared out of nowhere.

But she'd actually been hustling for a decade -- making music while working odd jobs, handling mental health struggles and coming into her own.
Midwest Princess
Born Kayleigh Rose Amstutz on February 19, 1998 in Willard, Missouri, Roan threw herself into the arts while never quite finding her social footing, and grappling with weighty emotions she would eventually learn were symptoms of bipolar disorder.

Her YouTube performances earned attention, and she moved to Los Angeles -- but then home again after Atlantic Records dropped her amid the early days of the pandemic that left the music industry reeling.

But before she was cut loose, Roan dropped "Pink Pony Club," a track that years later would blossom as one of her smash hits.

Dan Nigro, the heavyweight, Grammy-winning producer who worked with Roan at Atlantic, reconnected with her in 2021, and the years-long build-up to her soaring takeoff began in earnest.

For several scrappy years, she worked odd jobs, amassed followers on TikTok, underwent therapy to treat her unpredictable condition and finished her debut album.

But in accepting her Best New Artist Grammy, she took the industry to task, saying that her experience of feeling "betrayed" and "dehumanized" by the label that dropped her was "devastating."

"Record labels need to treat their artists as valuable employees," she said, demanding that they pay a living wage and provide health care to emerging artists.

Roan -- whose stage name pays homage to her late grandfather Dennis Chappell and his favorite song, "The Strawberry Roan," which she also noted onstage Sunday -- released her bold, vulnerable album "The Rise and Fall of a Midwest Princess" in 2023 to critical praise.

On it, she delves into themes of sexuality and yearning with a pop-forward, dance-heavy beat and impressive vocals that one critic characterized as "singing in cursive."

Her standalone single "Good Luck, Babe!" and the cheerleader-inspired dance number "Hot to Go!" found enormous audiences.

She thrived on TikTok but Roan wasn't only magnetic online: it was her extravagant presence onstage -- she did New York's Governors Ball dressed as the Statue of Liberty after arriving in a huge apple bong -- that cemented her superstar status.

She had that on full-display yet again at Sunday's gala, delivering a circus-themed rodeo of a performance of "Pink Pony Club" -- wearing a leather fringed corset get-up as she straddled a giant pink pony -- that had the crowd on its feet.
Growing pains
Roan's phenomenal rise has come with a price: she has spoken out about fame's growing pains that have left her exhausted and at times afraid of aggressive fans.

During a set over the summer, she broke down in tears, telling fans she felt "a little off today."

She says many of her fellow artists have reached out with sympathetic support, including Elton John -- who comically called her from an unidentified number 11 times before she answered and realized it was him, she told Rolling Stone.

Roan, who grew up in a conservative, Christian household, came out as a lesbian recently, and regularly sings of queer love in her songs, but refuses to be pigeonholed for her sexuality.

She also isn't shy about speaking out on topics from trans rights to supporting the Palestinian cause.

Making her demand Sunday night that working artists earn health insurance and a livable wage was totally on brand.

"Labels, we got you, but do you got us?" she asked.