We’re All Like Other Girls
Maybe it is just me–highly unlikely, but I will leave the disclaimer–who feels like she was taught all along that she had to be special in order to have a happily ever after of her own. The darling princess was swept off her feet and carried off into the sunset with her ravishingly handsome prince because her beauty and poise were simply not like that of other girls… So, who do we women (too often) blame when we don’t have our way with a relationship? Other women and ourselves.
If you have TikTok, like the majority of my peers and then some do, then chances are you’ve heard the term “Pick-Me Girl.” Now, I have issues with this term; what might have began as a way of calling out women for tearing other women down in the hopes of attaining male attention has evolved into yet another mechanism for women to be pitted against one another. Both to act as a “Pick-Me Girl” and to scrutinize others for being one demonstrates internalized misogyny. We, as women, have been trained to conform, be polite, and accommodating, as well as to “be ourselves,” and to be unique, ambitious, and strong. The notion of a “Pick-Me Girl,” a girl who is determined to prove she is “not like other girls,” outlines the efforts–in vain, I might add–so many of us make to differentiate ourselves from the pack just enough to be noticed or derive a sense of self. These attempts are for naught, though, because they simply prove something many of us, deep down, already know: the paradox of being humans is that we are all undeniably one-of-a-kind, as well as infinitely the same. We cannot look externally for a sense of self discovered via comparing and contrasting ourselves to others; we must look inward to rediscover who we were born to be. As I continually embark along the quest to be authentically myself, I can’t help but wonder:
WHY ARE WE SO AFRAID TO BE LIKE OTHER GIRLS?
I LOVE BASIC SH*T. Lululemon leggings? Yes please. Sorority merch? Never too much of it. Variously shaped and colored pairs of Amazon sunglasses? Sorry Mom and Dad. The USC trucker hat everyone and their mother now wears? MY FAVORITE. A Hydroflask covered in stickers? Essential. Astrology? C’mon, don’t be shy, just tell me your birth date and time. Iced coffee? Like, duh!
I understand–at least, I strive to–how my privilege affects my perspective of the idea of being “basic,” but on the same token, we have taken away the simple joy of shamelessly partaking in trends and popular culture. Could Lululemon have more inclusive sizing? Yes, I believe it should. Does Greek Life have flaws? We know it does. Are Amazon and the fast fashion industry horrible for the planet and typically unkind to their workers? Yes, we can probably all agree to that. But instead of focusing our concern to how we can make the world a more fair, equal, sustainable place, we drag teenage girls for enjoying a pumpkin spice latte or unknowingly being influenced by billion dollar fashion, diet, and tech industries.
My philosophy is that, much of the time, stuff is basic for a reason! Think of a basic tee: it’s versatile and durable. That basic tee, if paired with a bangin’ pair of flared jeans or pleated skirt, can be the perfect muted fashion statement. Is it so hard to believe that some typical “basic b*tch starter pack” items simplify our lives? There’s the saying, “if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.” I think that fashion, food, and activities we participate in are forms of self-expression. Once again, I am humbled by the fact that I am incredibly privileged and that a SoulCycle class or an overpriced acai bowl is not something the average college student has consistent access to, but I refuse to allow the joy to be taken from things that bring me genuine happiness on the grounds of them being “basic.” Not to mention, I can’t help but feel like dubbing girls as “basic” is a cop-out for really meaning to say that they’re incompetent, and I strongly disagree with that notion.
I’m not better than being basic. I’m not better than (being like) other girls.
I know every song of every Taylor Swift album. I have begged a friend to drive me across LA for Yoga-urt (the most delicious dairy free froyo) more times than I’d like to admit. I love shoes. I excitedly sit on the couch in anticipation as my roommates bring in their latest online shopping haul. I watch more rom-coms than I’d like to admit. I love my sorority. I am painfully aware of how I, as a young woman and college student, can easily be sidelined or silenced with a snarky comment about how someone just thought I was “too intelligent to be in a sorority.” Or, more generally applicable, “wow, I didn’t realize you were that type of girl.”
IN the wise words My queen lizzo once said, “i’m 100% that b*tch.”
We don’t to be like other girls because we’ve watched other girls be picked apart for how they look, dress, speak, eat, what music they listen to, what car their parents drive, how they do (or don’t do) their hair or makeup. It’s all ego-driven. We have watched our peers endure scrutiny or teasing and didn’t want to face it ourselves, ergo, the “Pick-Me Girl” who perfectly, delicately abides by the do’s and don’t’s provided to her by her peers. It’s a lose-lose situation, though; either you conform and dim some of that sparkle in your soul or you stand out and are at odds with everyone else’s expectations of how you should act.
Who’s to say that we can’t be both, though? It’s just lazy, one-dimensional thinking to believe that we can only be one type of girl, of person. What makes anyone so sure that a girl cannot be highly intelligent and love having a good time? Who says that women cannot sip on an oat-milk matcha latte or jam out to the latest top hits on the radio whilst also having depth and opinions of her own?
Can we all agree to stop writing each other off? My ladies, especially, can we vow to repair our relationship with one another?
We are stronger together. It is so fun to be around other women; my girl friends are sources of renewable energy. They just get it. Boys (men?) are great and all, but the manners in which men and women are socialized are so vastly different that I dare to say that they are far less likely to understand you the way a woman in your life will. My friends and I are the weirdest crossover of being the same people and being so incredibly different that I, without a doubt, can vouch for the fact that you can welcome your basic-ness and your unique-ness to both have a seat at the table in your life without becoming someone you’re not.
My friend Miranda and I were talking about this a few weeks ago, when I was first toying with the idea of this post, and she so beautifully said, “I look at all of you [my girl friends] and I see pieces I want to take from each of you.” How brilliant is that? Here we are, afraid to be like other girls, when, instead, we can focus on cultivating meaningful friendships with women that we admire.
One mechanism I use to evaluate my friendships is asking myself, '“would I be happy to become more like this person?” We leave pieces of ourselves in those we love; we inherit flecks of gold from the precious people we welcome into our hearts. I love who I am, but I appreciate the opportunity to be inspired by the badass women I consider my closest friends. I want to be more like my friends, like other girls. I look at my friends Isabel and Claire, who have this incredible work ethic that motivates me to pursue academic and career goals with tenacity. I glance over to my sisters—who I spent way too much time comparing myself to instead of appreciating—and hope to emulate the strengths I see in them that I do not see as dominantly in myself. I look at my Mom, who is superwoman in the flesh, and I use the qualities I idolize in her as starting points for the person I hope to one day embody.
When we focus on looking at others through a lens of love, we see the beauty in them and magnify their unique set of strengths. Instead of looking to other women through a fearful comparison of who we don’t want to be, what if we, conversely, looked to other women for inspiration of who we do want to be?
I always, always strive to be my most authentic self, but that can involve asking myself “what women do I look up to?” and adjusting accordingly. It’s not a competition; another woman’s success, beauty, ambitions, side-hustle—you name it—is not at the cost of your own. I want to be like the women I look up to. I hope to do better too, to be a good ancestor. I pray for the strength to do better every time I learn to know better.