How does a woman decide how to behave in 2025? How does she present herself to the rest of the world in real life? Online? What does it mean to be “coquette,” an “it” girl, a “clean” girl, or to dress “cottagecore” or “fairycore?” Should she stick to the coastal grandmother vibe, or is eclectic grandfather the new trend? What’s on the menu today – girl dinner again? Did she use girl math to justify buying a “sweet treat” after her exam? Was it because she is literally just a girl? Is she not like other girls, in a league of her own?
Ever since I can remember, I have considered myself somewhat of a tomboy. As a child, I was much more interested in cars and dinosaurs than I was in Littlest Pet Shop or My Little Pony. At school, I could be found digging for worms in the soccer field and waving them in people’s faces. At home, I could be found ripping around the farmyard on a tiny Yamaha dirt bike for hours at a time while my father supervised me from the shop.
This is not to say that I did not also take part in traditionally “girly” activities like makeovers, dress-up, and dance classes. Most girls at my small school of 100 students were a lot like me and had a fair mix of traditionally masculine and feminine interests. The thing that made me feel different was how much I hated leaning into feminine behaviour, like wearing nail polish or dishing about boys at a sleepover. In fact, the term “girly-girl” was hurled from one girl to the next as an insult if they came across as too outwardly girly. I remember coming home from school one day incredibly distraught after being referred to as a girly-girl for wearing a pink sundress.
Part of me believes that my apprehension towards girlhood as a whole from a very young age led me to feel like a fraud when I tried to indulge in all its pink and sparkly glory. It felt wrong, like I was pretending to be something I wasn’t. That is, until I was exposed to the phrase, “I’m not like other girls” in some corner of Instagram or Tumblr in my preteen years. I felt understood in this little quote, as though some other girl like me on the Internet felt the same way that I did. Something new was lit inside me. I wore the sarcastic comment like a suit of armour, something that would protect me from all of the lame girly nonsense I did not really adhere to anyway.
I could not have comprehended then that this cheeky idea was actually doing me more harm than good, leading me to develop a sense of internalized misogyny. What does it actually mean to not be like other girls, anyway? Surely, it must make you better than the rest, a standout amongst everyone else who shares a gender identity with you. Maybe it looks like listening to heavy or underground music, getting huge elaborate tattoos, or dying your hair every colour of the rainbow. Maybe it looks like wearing Converse with a dress, hanging out with men because “they aren’t as dramatic,” or being invested in sports. Maybe it looks like you. Who even are these other girls that we are so set on separating ourselves from?
Simply put, “I’m not like other girls” is a phrase coined to differentiate “basic” girls — women who seem too feminine and unoriginal — from women who seem unique, interesting, and more masculine, with the motive of attracting heterosexual male attention. On the other hand, women who criticize femininity in order to appeal to men are nowadays referred to as “pick-me girls” or “guy’s girls” by other women. It can be distasteful to watch a woman prioritize male attention over female friendships, yet this criticism does not recognize the issue of internalized misogyny that goes hand in hand with the “not like other girls” thought process.
I should make it clear that in writing this piece, I am not seeking to tell you that giving in to traditional “feminine” stereotypes is the only way to truly be pro-woman. Instead, I wish to suggest that womanhood and femininity are whatever you make of them. In retrospect, I feel as though a large driving force behind my distaste for being a girl had to do with the fact that I did not see myself ever really falling under the category of “woman” and fitting in. I knew I was a girl, but I just did not see how I could possibly relate to everyone else who was — according to me — shallow and dainty. I thought of myself as an outcast and resorted to thinking that men and masculinity were more desirable than creating an identity for myself. In later years, I stuck with this mindset. It was not until very recently that I came to the realization that I may be doing myself and the women in my life more harm than good.
When considering how women and girls pit themselves against one another, it is important to recognize that all women are victims of internalized misogyny, including the ones who perpetrate it. Of course, when I was a preteen girl who spent all her energy on trying to resist being like what I imagined “other girls” to be, I had no idea that I was presenting my own internal struggles to the world. I was so disgusted by the idea of femininity that I made it my mission to reject it and the women who were comfortable with their own.
This brings me to another issue with the “not like other girls” mentality — it inadvertently pushes a narrative that the majority of women are restricted to gender roles and stereotypes. Of course, it is always important to reject stereotypes and uphold individuality. Yet criticizing women who fit into these stereotypes as a true representation of themselves and damaging woman-to-woman relationships is never the right way to counteract restrictive gender norms. Instead, women should be uplifting and supportive to one another, united by a misogynistic cloud that hovers over us everywhere we go. It is especially important to share compassion and empathy with women struggling with internalized misogyny, something that many women have and will come face-to-face with at some point in their lives. It is through connection and understanding that shared womanhood is strongest.
Ultimately, presuming that you are “not like other girls” upholds patriarchal standards at the cost of other women. It fulfills a male fantasy of an ideal, quirky, manic pixie dream girl, the type of girl who is so obviously not like any ordinary girl and so much better than them because of it. It identifies that there is a level of femininity that women should embrace and then criticizes women who do participate in that femininity by suggesting that being more masculine is somehow better and more desirable.
In reality, we are all so unlike each other that the phrase loses its significance. Of course we are not like other girls — that is what we have in common.
The idea of being “not like other girls” and putting down women for male attention has existed for years, but has been exacerbated by the boom of the Internet. The idea of obsessive individuality in order to differentiate between other women is merely repackaged into new trends and buzzwords in order to remain relevant. This is to say, the “not like other girls” ethos that surged in popularity online just presents itself differently year after year as we scramble to make ourselves more unique than the next person.
Although the Internet is constantly changing, the personalities and “aesthetics” that we attempt to squeeze ourselves into can become another way in which we attempt to prove to ourselves and others that we are different, quirky, or unique. There is a persistent pressure on women to conform to a certain “category” and to present themselves in a way that goes beyond following trends. For example, the so-called “it-girl” trend is more than clothes, nails, or even makeup. A quick search on Pinterest for “it girl” comes up with images giving young women guidance on how to fit into the aesthetic. I was not surprised to see that practically every picture featured glowy, light-skinned, slim women with shiny, straight hair.
Of course, there is nothing wrong with fitting into this demographic of women, but why do we choose to separate ourselves from each other in such exclusionary ways? What makes an “it girl” different from a “clean girl” or a “pilates princess?” Furthermore, how many different niche trends can we create in order to split ourselves apart into groups based on capitalistic and social bases? I will stress again that there is no shame in enjoying trends or labels. I have submitted my style to many aesthetics ever since I owned a Pinterest account and was able to dress myself. Instead, I think it is worthwhile to consider the impacts that these trends have on our identities, as well as the driving forces behind them.
Now that I have experienced enough friendships to know better, I have abandoned the mindset of being unlike the other girls. I have met enough women to know that I am really just like all of them, and I much prefer that over trying to alienate myself from my own identity. It is important that women do not put each other down for the sole sake of being women, whether it is intentional or not. The idea that anyone is above the latest stereotype of womanhood suggests that there is something wrong with traits applied to the “typical woman,” and I have unknowingly partaken in pushing that narrative.
In the past, I have been told by men that I am “truly” not like other girls, and while at one time I would have taken that as a compliment, I no longer see it that way. The characteristics I have that make me individualistic are exactly what make me like other women. Other women are smart, capable, curious, funny, and brave. Other women are just as interesting and unique as I am. Even if I tried my hardest to be different from the bunch, I would be doing myself a disservice. There is nothing else I would rather be than “like other girls.”
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