One day I'll write a thorough deconstruction of the phrase "I'm not like other girls". I will go to small towns and big cities and sit in the libraries of public schools and ask girls a hundred questions to try to get to the bottom of it. I'll talk to the girls who aren't like their peers and the kids they accuse of being "the other girls". I'll compile data and analyze film, tv, books, and commercials. Then I'll release the report and people will finally have an understanding of the phrase in its entirety.
But right now, I have none of the data or the know-how to acquire it. I guess I've technically taken a couple stats classes but I'm still not totally sure what a T-test is if I'm being perfectly honest. That leaves me with a bunch of opinions and a vague sense of dissatisfaction.
We've entered this new wave of feminism where women advocate fiercely and whole-heartedly for the need to support other women unconditionally––or with less rigid conditions, I should say. This, of course, is great! Women being openly hostile to others used to be the sole narrative. But we're so quick to judge women who use the iconic "I'm not like other girls" line which we pushed as a mainstream sentiment only a few years ago.
It's obnoxious. It is. The line implies that there is something wrong with other girls. That, by distancing oneself from women altogether, the speaker will somehow appear more attractive, more professional, whatever it might be to men. The line panders to men and uplifts misogynistic ideas that hold women hostage.
But we need to think about why women use it in the first place. Nobody––especially no one who identifies as a woman––is born hating other women. We are socialized that way. We learn it over time. When a woman says "I'm not like other girls", sure, sometimes she's just being spiteful, but we need to be more critical about possible underlying causes.
I think about the media we consume, in particular. Even this year, the Golden Globe nominees were a trainwreck of boring, white men. Complex female characters, actors, and directors (particularly black women) were left off of this list. Zendaya, who plays Rue in Euphoria and Lupita N'yongo, who portrayed Adelaide in Us were both notably snubbed this year. Female characters aren't rewarded for breaking convention. They're rewarded for filling tropes.
We're lucky in these past years to even have representation of women (again, especially black women) in media at all. When women are portrayed in most media, we're shown as flat stereotypes. Women of color are lucky if they are portrayed at all. We're shown as either ditzy and pretty and not much else or as "not like other girls".
In media made by men (and yeah, sometimes women too) "not like other girls" is code for a fully developed person. We are told from a young age that the only women worth paying attention to are the ones who somehow manage to stand apart from the rest of their gender. In books, it's the girl with five brothers or the one who doesn't wear makeup (but is still beautiful, of course) who is also smart and capable. She is allowed to accompany men on their heroic journies. She can speak and have opinions that are at least sometimes listened to. TV, books, movies, and even ads tell us that if we want to be heard, we need to prove our worth. Women are not inherently worth listening to.
In an even more abstract sense, some women who say "I'm not like other girls" experience intense alienation from their gender because of the patriarchy. With years of beauty standards and unattainable expectations set above the heads of all women, it's our job to either conform to these standards or find a way to escape them. If you're conventionally attractive, naturally feminine, or have layers of privilege that help you fit the mold of perfectly female (white, skinny, cis-gendered), it might be easier to conform to gender norms. Being "pretty" or privileged makes it easier to move through the world.
If you fall so hopelessly outside of these norms, however, you're going to need to find another route to live comfortability with your gender. Women who simply find it impossible to align themselves with these norms must find a different way to somehow comply with the system. Though it's a stark and depressing reality, we all find ourselves compromising pieces of our identity to create liveable situations for ourselves.
This is not to say that a certain type of woman is more bound up by the patriarchy–-we are all unlearning years of internalized misogyny, they just manifest in very different ways. Choosing one of these methods isn't an aesthetic or superficial decision, it's necessary for our survival as women. If we choose to somehow live outside of these options (or are perceived as trying to do so) we are met with violent opposition.
These women, who fall outside the norms, might actually see themselves as radically "other" from the women around them. Though masquerading as a holier-than-thou sentiment, it could be an expression of inadequacy to perform gender in the way we have been taught. Without seeing yourself in media or maybe even in the girls around you, it's much easier to say that you somehow rise above everyone else than it is to admit that you are an outsider who isn't able to fit themselves in a neat box.
Before we are too harsh on women who say "I'm not like other girls", we need to understand that it's a coping mechanism. While I certainly empathize with this frustration, it's also essential to point out that blaming women for internalized misogyny rather than blaming a culture that creates this ideology is still conforming to patriarchy.
We all need to do work subverting the harm that patriarchy produces. While women who use this "I'm not like other girls" line are complicit in an unjust system, it's still our job to understand their perspective. After lifetimes of seeing yourself as a hollow shell of what you actually are, it's tempting to put other girls down in an attempt to get somebody, anybody to recognize your humanity. In a system that rewards conformity, falling outside the norm can feel isolating. When your gender expression doesn't guarantee dignity or respect, it feels like your job to fight for it. Even when that fight comes at somebody else's expense.
But right now, I have none of the data or the know-how to acquire it. I guess I've technically taken a couple stats classes but I'm still not totally sure what a T-test is if I'm being perfectly honest. That leaves me with a bunch of opinions and a vague sense of dissatisfaction.
We've entered this new wave of feminism where women advocate fiercely and whole-heartedly for the need to support other women unconditionally––or with less rigid conditions, I should say. This, of course, is great! Women being openly hostile to others used to be the sole narrative. But we're so quick to judge women who use the iconic "I'm not like other girls" line which we pushed as a mainstream sentiment only a few years ago.
It's obnoxious. It is. The line implies that there is something wrong with other girls. That, by distancing oneself from women altogether, the speaker will somehow appear more attractive, more professional, whatever it might be to men. The line panders to men and uplifts misogynistic ideas that hold women hostage.
But we need to think about why women use it in the first place. Nobody––especially no one who identifies as a woman––is born hating other women. We are socialized that way. We learn it over time. When a woman says "I'm not like other girls", sure, sometimes she's just being spiteful, but we need to be more critical about possible underlying causes.
I think about the media we consume, in particular. Even this year, the Golden Globe nominees were a trainwreck of boring, white men. Complex female characters, actors, and directors (particularly black women) were left off of this list. Zendaya, who plays Rue in Euphoria and Lupita N'yongo, who portrayed Adelaide in Us were both notably snubbed this year. Female characters aren't rewarded for breaking convention. They're rewarded for filling tropes.
We're lucky in these past years to even have representation of women (again, especially black women) in media at all. When women are portrayed in most media, we're shown as flat stereotypes. Women of color are lucky if they are portrayed at all. We're shown as either ditzy and pretty and not much else or as "not like other girls".
In media made by men (and yeah, sometimes women too) "not like other girls" is code for a fully developed person. We are told from a young age that the only women worth paying attention to are the ones who somehow manage to stand apart from the rest of their gender. In books, it's the girl with five brothers or the one who doesn't wear makeup (but is still beautiful, of course) who is also smart and capable. She is allowed to accompany men on their heroic journies. She can speak and have opinions that are at least sometimes listened to. TV, books, movies, and even ads tell us that if we want to be heard, we need to prove our worth. Women are not inherently worth listening to.
In an even more abstract sense, some women who say "I'm not like other girls" experience intense alienation from their gender because of the patriarchy. With years of beauty standards and unattainable expectations set above the heads of all women, it's our job to either conform to these standards or find a way to escape them. If you're conventionally attractive, naturally feminine, or have layers of privilege that help you fit the mold of perfectly female (white, skinny, cis-gendered), it might be easier to conform to gender norms. Being "pretty" or privileged makes it easier to move through the world.
If you fall so hopelessly outside of these norms, however, you're going to need to find another route to live comfortability with your gender. Women who simply find it impossible to align themselves with these norms must find a different way to somehow comply with the system. Though it's a stark and depressing reality, we all find ourselves compromising pieces of our identity to create liveable situations for ourselves.
This is not to say that a certain type of woman is more bound up by the patriarchy–-we are all unlearning years of internalized misogyny, they just manifest in very different ways. Choosing one of these methods isn't an aesthetic or superficial decision, it's necessary for our survival as women. If we choose to somehow live outside of these options (or are perceived as trying to do so) we are met with violent opposition.
These women, who fall outside the norms, might actually see themselves as radically "other" from the women around them. Though masquerading as a holier-than-thou sentiment, it could be an expression of inadequacy to perform gender in the way we have been taught. Without seeing yourself in media or maybe even in the girls around you, it's much easier to say that you somehow rise above everyone else than it is to admit that you are an outsider who isn't able to fit themselves in a neat box.
Before we are too harsh on women who say "I'm not like other girls", we need to understand that it's a coping mechanism. While I certainly empathize with this frustration, it's also essential to point out that blaming women for internalized misogyny rather than blaming a culture that creates this ideology is still conforming to patriarchy.
We all need to do work subverting the harm that patriarchy produces. While women who use this "I'm not like other girls" line are complicit in an unjust system, it's still our job to understand their perspective. After lifetimes of seeing yourself as a hollow shell of what you actually are, it's tempting to put other girls down in an attempt to get somebody, anybody to recognize your humanity. In a system that rewards conformity, falling outside the norm can feel isolating. When your gender expression doesn't guarantee dignity or respect, it feels like your job to fight for it. Even when that fight comes at somebody else's expense.
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