I’m reading The Girls by Emma Cline, rewatching Sex and the City, and being bombarded by chartreuse backgrounds with blurry sans type memes, so fabulous and fictional women are at the top of my mind.
At silent book club (re: The Girls), I had a wonderful conversation on women, aging, how we’re perceived, and other things. Someone made a great point about how, as we age, there are plenty of people to smooch but not enough people to be your ride-or-dies.
You don’t have to go full-blown Midsommar collective crying or Manson Family blood-soaked friendship bracelets and stick it out until the bitter end, but you do need girlfriends who aren’t afraid of a bit of blood and guts.
Even though I watch a lot of true crime, I am not recommending homicide this summer. (However, if you must, kill them with your looks, fits, and charisma.)
As a cis-gender woman born in the 90s and raised in the aughts, there is a whole generation (or two) of women who grew up watching women belittle, humiliate, and degrade other women for the sake of vanity and fame. We watched Tyra Banks pit women against each other (and their cellulite) for 24 seasons. Some people still blame Janet Jackson for the half-time nip slip. And several celebrities have had to fight for their right to their own lives in a court of law.
So it begs the question, how the absolute fuck are women supposed to have healthy and supportive friendships when every aspect of society is geared toward hunting us down, attacking us, and putting us on a biological timeline so tight only ONE can become the final girl?
Shall we break it down?
I believe at the dawn of humanity, women took their gathering duties seriously. They stayed in the settlements and took care of each other, their offspring, and whatever domestic animals and livestock they kept. They tilled the earth and, most importantly, kept each other from taking a boulder to another’s cranium.
Somehow, over the course of time (and misogyny), those duties were widdled down to making flower crowns and eating berries with their tits out. Maybe that’s all they did, and even so, that’s fine by me.
But what they did have (that we lack so desperately now) is a communal effort to keep one another alive and WELL.
Ask yourself when you last had a conversation with your friend that was more than surface-level catching up. When was the last time someone braided your hair without you scheduling an appointment? Do your friends know that you’ve fully converted from a die-hard Barbie pink girl to a chartreuse aficionado?
Probably not.
Do your friends even know your middle name? Your blood type? Whether you want to be cremated or buried in underwire with smoothing and padding?
NOPE.
Why is it so hard to make and keep friends?
When we were little girls running around in pinafores and overalls, friends were rather abundant…for a time. We all saw each other as equals in our youthful naivety—someone with whom we could share our deepest, darkest secrets, crushes, and dreams.
We could sit for hours on the phone and talk about things that only existed in our magical worlds. We would stick our tongues out and run from boys who had cooties. We would drag our dolls and stuffed animals to enjoy tea at high noon in plastic ups and sing I’m a Little Teapot when we turned the kettle up.
But what makes us these raging bitches as we age?
Life: bad experiences, breakups, self-discovery, finances, loss, grief, the list can go on. We lose the wonder and joy of our youth as some of our dreams and expectations for our lives shatter before us.
Girls who dreamed of being the first doctor in their families became mothers or wives and couldn't take the risk of not having someone to fall back on. Girls who wanted to appear in glossy magazines developed crippling anxiety from not being “_______ enough” to compete. Some girls’ dreams did come true and were more glamorous than expected, but they were too afraid to step back in reality and reconnect because they were terrified the moon would fall out of the sky if they left the castle.
So they became jaded.
They all withdrew to their realities, staying in what felt comfortable or what they could see and feel instead of reaching out to each other to realize they were all living versions of the same twisted fairytale.
Hop in the coup d'etat; we’re going to shake things up
Buckle up, girls (gays and theys, too).
Society tells us we’re supposed to compete for the dream. Ladies, you can’t have it all, and all of you definitely can’t have it. We’re told we can be pretty or smart, desirable or confident, successful or valued, but never both. We have to halve ourselves our entire lives to get a fraction of the pay, respect, and dignity our cis-gender male counterparts get.
And don’t get me started on the right to choose anything in our lives. If you choose on your own, you might as well grab the lighter fluid and tie yourself to a stake because, sweetie, they are going to roast you.
But it doesn’t have to be this way. The smart one, the princess, the cheerleader, the Insta baddie, the doctor, the nail/lash tech, the stay-at-home mom, the cat lady, the dog mom, the nun, the Only Fans model, the STEM girl—all of us can exist in a world where the only choices we make benefit ALL of us.
When our right to exist is being threatened every day, we have no choice but to stick together and stand strong against anything trying to tear us apart. We need to lock hands and kick and scream, like when our parents tried to stop us from playing mermaids in the pool.
And for the love of god, we HAVE to stop fighting with each other in the comments section. Men are watching. Who cares if Brittany’s bridal party chopped their bridesmaid gowns because it was 97º in August? And who cares if you can’t eat gluten? I’m sure Shelia can find a way to make a gluten-free sourdough loaf.
If we don’t stick together, and I mean STICK better than the gum you put in your middle school nemesis’ hair at the sleepover (please don’t do that, it’s traumatic), we are royalty FUCKED for the next four years (and maybe the rest of our lives).
So sisters of all shapes, sizes, identities, and walks of life, grab your bags, your mace, and hold on for dear life because we need EACH OTHER now more than ever.
agreed, we totally need each other. the world is going to keep coming for us, coming for our bonds and our sisterhood. thanks for sharing your wisdom on this topic. i don’t think anything is more important than our connection as women. you said it beautifully. 💜