If you hopped onto any Gen Z-dominated social media app right now, you would run into an edit with the song “What Was I Made For?” by Billie Eilish with images of bows, the entirety of the “coquette aesthetic,” elaborate skincare routines, $8 matcha lattes and various pink paraphernalia — topped off with a caption that says “girlhood <3.”
This phenomenon, dubbed “girly girlism” in a Tweet by user @misanderist, gained traction online due to the explosive popularity of the “Barbie” movie. Coupled with the existing coquette aesthetic — which popularized lace bows and dainty, ruffled, feminine clothes — the internet decided that celebrating girlhood was the next big thing.
Trends like “girl dinner” and “girl math” added to the fervor surrounding girlhood and initially, such trends felt invigorating. Anything associated with femininity was romanticized through social media edits, moodboards, fashion trends and poetry — then dubbed “girlhood.”
When I first saw the trend pop up on my Instagram feed, I joined in enthusiastically. My general feelings towards girly girlism could be summed up with: “Hell yeah! I love being a girl! Men could never know the epic highs and lows of girlhood!” I liked how the trend made me feel special for growing up as a woman. It felt like a reclamation of femininity that had been demonized in the past by mainstream culture.
For those like me who struggled often with internalized misogyny and had the cringeworthy “not like the other girls” phase, it was exciting to enjoy femininity without shame.
As I dwelled on it, however, it dawned on me that these celebrations of girlhood never felt truly genuine — largely because girlhood and the experience of growing up as a woman can’t be defined by a set of images or behaviors.
Then, I decided that girlhood should not be celebrated at all. Or, at least, not in this way.
This may seem rash, but let me clarify. To celebrate in the way online communities currently do is to define girlhood by a set of stereotypical representations of femininity. It creates an ingenuine caricature of girlhood and boils down a unique, diverse aspect of one’s life into a limited set of experiences.
A much stronger bond could be built by reflecting on the shared struggles that girls experience, instead of popularizing watered-down bows, ruffles and matcha lattes as feminism — things that disguise consumerism as a positive, self-affirming trend.
The girly girlism phenomenon speaks to a wider trend of essentializing one’s identity online.
On social media, the self is a collection of identities meshed together to create the semblance of a multifaceted person. You do not introduce yourself by your name, but rather by your gender, sexuality, neuroses, fixations, political affiliations, etc.
These identities are no longer mere aspects of a person, like in real life. Online, they become who you are — you are defined by your labels. In order for people to gain an understanding of what these labels mean (and determine what sort of person you are online), they have to essentialize them. This is done by reducing complex identities into a set of characteristics and stereotypes that are arbitrarily assigned value.
With girly girlism, I’m not simply existing as a girl online. Instead, I am a Girl™, who is special by virtue of being a girl and having experienced “girlhood.”
This online version of girlhood is only a collection of ideas and feminine traits — something entirely separate from my lived experience.
To be honest, it’s time to let the trend die.
Something as subjective as girlhood should not be given meaning simply by romanticizing certain feminine stereotypes — stereotypes that are loosely associated with a certain gender. Girlhood is not just a loose collection of makeup, skincare, fashion products, questionable spending habits and pink toys.
Aside from the fact that such an impression of girlhood falsely equates girlhood to consumerism and the faux feminist beauty industry, girlhood is a multifaceted experience that should be reflected on through a critical lens.
Such aspects of girlhood that deserve to be discussed are the sexualization and exploitation of younger girls, how the beauty industry preys on preteen insecurities, the construction of gender in one’s youth and the roles that girls of different cultures are expected to assume while growing up.
I don’t think that my lived experience as a girl is special and worth the fanfare just by virtue of being a girl. But the universal struggles I’ve overcome growing up as a girl? That’s something worth celebrating.
Anjali Suva PO ’27 is from Orange County, California. She loves watching horror films, reading fantasy books and abusing em dashes in her articles.
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