#4. embracing the woman
my girlhood essay
When I first read the above post on Tumblr, I felt a shock in my body unlike any other. It was a call-out specifically for me. They even got my age right!
In the year 2023, when girl-everything blew up, when Barbie ruled the big screen, when the Eras and Renaissance tours took (almost) the whole world by storm, when Substack itself couldn't escape the hoard of self-reflective essays about girlhood — no shade, as I was a reader and appreciator of many — I turned 25. I was truly unemployed for the first time in five years, living in a studio apartment I had moved into six months previously, and losing all sense of self. The only thing I found myself clinging onto were journals from my past, where I chronicled my years in high school, the mundanity of my life, and dreams of becoming a woman.
Well. I say that, but I don't think I ever used the word. We have a weird relationship, the word ‘woman’ and I. Where ‘girl’ has always been appealing, something I've identified with, ‘woman’ was so far away. I exclusively dress like I'm still 19 and in my second year of uni, never let my hair grow past my shoulders, still listen to all the same bands from high school, and try as hard as I might, cannot stop rewatching the same three TV shows (One Tree Hill, Gossip Girl, and Gilmore Girls, FYI).
Obviously, my interests and style don't reflect what the Pinterest search results for 'girlhood' would be, but they're part of my girlhood. At first, I attributed it to just being a nostalgic person. Permanent residency in the past. Romanticizing some of the worst years of my life, when I had no agency, barely any life skills, no money, no clue who or what I could be, just wishes upon wishes.
But can we talk about how dangerous that is?
wifey era (derogatory)
One of the most obvious trends online has been the surge of tradwife content and rise in alt-right movements across the world. People are electing more conservative politicians (convicted rapists??????) into office, the youth are being radicalized faster and more intensely than ever because of social media. It’s like all the work done by our ancestors — hell, all the work done by our 2010s pussy-hat-wearing, #GirlBoss feminists — has been undone in a single snap. This is, obviously, the bleakest version of this take, and I actually have a little more hope in my heart. But it has been proven time and time again, by history, literature, and individual lived experiences that when things get tough, you go back to when times were simpler.
When you were just a girl, as it were.
In a vacuum, there is nothing wrong with that (to be clear: the idea of being a girl, not the stuff before it) (TO BE VERY CLEAR). It’s the purest form of escapism. Nostalgia! But unfortunately,
Ahem.
The idea that ‘stay-at-home girlfriend’ is a thing that became normalized on TikTok makes me a little sick, to be honest — along with all other tradwife content. This want to ‘go back to a time when men provided for us, waited on us hand and foot’, is so dystopian, it could be a little-too-on-the-nose Black Mirror episode. It’s also, of course, a very white sentiment, as historically, women of color were never granted the luxury of not working, especially Black women, not to mention the intersection of class.
Safe to say, when Charlotte from New York City says she wishes she could go back to the 1950s every time she’s faced with a minor inconvenience, it stings a little.
ew, you’re such a try-hard
The part of the post that really got to me — besides, you know, all of it — was 'it is easier to see the paths when you start to take yourself seriously instead of waiting for others to do so.'
I can paint a vivid image of what my mindset around taking oneself too seriously looked like when I was younger. It meant being stuck up, pretentious, and dressing like a 40-year-old white woman in business casual.
I know, I know. How judgmental. Gen Z can't do anything without making an ironic joke about it. When I saw people my age put in the work, it looked stupid because it was too earnest. None of it seemed effortless. It was cringe. (this may have also been part of the ‘not like other girls’ nonsense that was going on at the time.)
(Spoiler alert: It's not supposed to be effortless! Life takes effort, younger me. You'll get that in a couple of years.)
I never thought of my attachment to the past as avoiding the realities of adulthood, because hey, look at me, being an adult, doing an adult job, taking adult trips to different countries, renting an adult apartment.
It’s that autonomy that women are taking for granted, because we’ve lived our lives expecting it. When you become an adult, you move out, or are granted more freedom either way, in some form if not in your family. You can vote for who you want, you can drive a car, you can get drunk off your tits, you can become a prostitute, you can get married; the possibilities are endless.
(Obviously, these are sweeping statements full of generalizations, so forgive me for not adding the asterisks to say ‘except for women of this class, and race, and caste, and religion’ for every point. I’m writing this with no plan in one sitting. Please. Some grace.)
I have something embarrassing to confess: until I moved out, I would text my parents about my every move, making sure they knew where I was, so I wouldn’t get scolded if I was out too late.
Something even more embarrassing: I did this a month after I moved out too.
Hope you feel better about yourself.
It’s because I didn’t take myself seriously, or saw myself as anything more than my parent’s daughter and therefore a child, that I felt this urge to be accountable to them well into my twenties.
The frustrating thing is, at the same time, I was trying to gain the respect of my peers and superiors at work, as if rushing home so my mother wouldn’t yell at me wasn’t undoing a lot of the charm and likability I had going on before that.
(For the record, I would’ve been fine if I just told my parents I’d be home later than usual. They are not monsters, lol, we LOVE my parents. Okay.)
Taking yourself seriously isn’t a bad thing — it’s just respecting yourself. Holding yourself in high regard because you’re a badass, actually! You do that, and others will follow. Sure, there’ll be people like my teenage self who’ll think you’re a bit cringey, or loud, or weird. But you’re going to be too busy having fun, not texting your whereabouts to your parents in another country.
a different shade of yellow
I am 26 years old. I’ll be turning 27 in a little less than five months, when I post this. Like ryebreadgf said, that is incredibly young. If you think about it, I’m only just starting my life. And even if I wasn’t, it’s still my first one. Metaphorically, I am but a baby deer learning to walk, stumbling along the forest — but not helpless. Oh no.
Over the years, I’ve met women older than me, who have been wonderful friends, yes, but also guides on how to live my life. Like smart, kind, feminist Yodas.
Sorry to my friends. But maybe you like that reference, because you’re so old.
Sorry.
One thing I’ve unintentionally learned to do is be excited to get older. I reframed it as being the same age as [insert name here], because they did something super cool! So when I hit that age, I can too! It’s not this hard deadline I’ve given myself, just a reminder that a lot of fun stuff is waiting for me as I grow older. I could own a house — pause for laughter, insert comment about the economy and climate, yes, but LET’S DREAM, PEOPLE — or switch career paths, or find a hobby I’d never even considered doing at 26, or find a life partner, or get medicated for my anxiety.
I don’t have very exciting aspirations. But they’re mine all the same, and make me the woman I am today.
tiny reality check
Apologies for the vibe shift, but I don’t think I could talk about becoming a woman, or growing older, without acknowledging that entire sections of girls don’t get to, and it’s not their choice.
Be it due to war, or honor killings, female feticide, or just plain old misogyny in the form of hateful speech, there are little girls around the world who don’t get to become women because society hates them for some odd reason.
Being a woman — or at least, not being a man — goes against everything the the patriarchy stands for, of course. Women and children are two extremely vulnerable sections of society, and even more once you bring in other identities — disabled women, women of color, queer but especially trans women, whose average life expectancy does no exceed their thirties: they are barely protected by laws, and even those are being dusted as we speak, if not disrespected and disregarded. Globally.
When you think of the modern world, you think these discriminations are a thing of the past. Women can vote! They can open bank accounts! They can get divorced! But how hard was it to get here? And how hard has it been to keep it this way?
As much as I dwell on the past in my darkest hours, I actually love the idea of being in my thirties, forties, fifties (say inshallah). That I’m going to have the chance to start over as many times as I want, just because.
It’s just like ryebreadgf said, I get to enjoy concepts and media associated with girlhood, and exist as a woman at the same time. Those two things are not mutually exclusive. It’s just when we start associating ourselves with the former a little too much that it becomes…a tiny, tiny issue? A problem? A societal failing?
Depending on how far you take it, I suppose.
“reading” list:
i only have one recommendation and it’s Shanspeare’s video essay about conservatism and girl world. it’s so good, and obviously a lot more researched and nuanced than my little post was (i’m hoping to change this soon!!!!!!).
Concluding has never been my forte. What’s your relationship to girlhood? To womanhood? Do you think I made any sense here? Comment down below, or DM me. Let’s chat!
PS: Happy new year! <3