Why it’s okay to sometimes be ‘just a girl’ in the age of pressure on women
TLDR: While the viral trend “I’m just a girl” has attracted a lot of criticism from those saying it’s anti-feminist or encourages misogyny, perhaps there’s another way of interpreting it: a rebellion from women against the pressure they’re under.
Caveat: for the purposes of this article and the phrase “I’m just a girl” that it centres around, I’ll be using female pronouns throughout. However, all shades of the non-binary and trans spectrum are welcome here and welcome to feel and be “just a girl”.
I turned thirty this year, and yet the phrase that slips out of my mouth a solid 35% of the time is I’m just a girl. It’s usually in response to someone asking something of me that I don’t have the time/energy/wherewithal for in that moment.
It might seem like a bit of a weird thing for a fully grown woman to say, I grant you, but I’m not the only one saying it. “I’m just a girl” is a lingering trend and, dare I say, movement that has grasped the girls of the internet the way we dig our nails into our iced coffees.
Like that analogy, the I’m just a girl trend seemingly makes light of the stereotypes and shortfalls of women. Think ‘it’s because I’m blonde’ vibes, and you’re in the right kind of place. Indeed, it’s received a lot of criticism for knocking feminism back a good few years, encouraging misogynistic dialogue, and just generally not being a good look for gender equality.
To these criticisms, I have three things to say: firstly, there are a lot of worse things going on for gender equality. Secondly, there’s plenty of other things kicking feminism back (ahem, Roe v Wade overturning, looking at you) and, finally, misogynistic dialogue has done a fine job keeping itself going all on its own for centuries, without the help of us girls.
Now, don’t get me wrong, I understand the criticism and I’m not here to debunk or deny it. I’m just here to pose a different interpretation of the trend, which is that it’s really hard to be a woman. To be honest, it’s really hard to be a person, but as we’re on ‘just a girl’, let’s talk about it from the female perspective.
It’s really hard to be a woman
In the UK – a country generally thought to be fairly progressive – there’s still a gender pay gap. In 2023 it was around 8% for full-time employees. This creates huge pressure for women in the workplace to ‘prove themselves’, and makes it more difficult for them to achieve the same financial and professional recognition as their male counterparts.
Despite the incredible pressure to be successful in one’s career, there is also still an expectation on women to have children. There’s more scaremongering than ever about the ‘biological clock’, and yet the enormous cost of living means a lot of women don’t feel able to have children until they’re older – the average age of first-time mothers is currently 31.3 in the UK, the highest it’s ever been.
If you do have children, the statutory maternity pay (in the UK) that you’re entitled to is barely enough to cope with those aforementioned massive costs of living, not to mention the exorbitant cost of childcare. The latter, by the way, means that a significant number of women consider giving up their jobs altogether because it can potentially work out cheaper than paying for regular childcare.
Not that it’s all about work or kids, let’s not forget the age-old pressure of, well, not appearing age-old. Not only do women still have to be ageless and slim, we now also have to have a clean girl aesthetic, millions of makeup products and know how to contour.
And to top it all off, you also have to know exactly what to and not to eat; you have to not wear bras that are too tight because you’ll get cancer, but also you have to wear something supportive or your boobs will sag and you’ll get cancer; you have to have plenty of political opinions but also not have too many opinions because you still have to be careful not be perceived as bossy; and you have to, I mean have to have a hot girl summer or, I think, something really bad must happen.
It’s absolutely exhausting, and they’re just the mostly funny and barely serious things in a world full of totally unfunny and very serious things. 73% of domestic abuse victims are women; 1 in 3 women worldwide have experienced physical or sexual violence; in the year ending March 2022, 85,000 women in England and Wales were estimated to have been raped; women are almost twice as likely as men to be diagnosed with anxiety disorders, they are significantly more likely to suffer from eating disorders; on average, a woman’s pension pot is 40% smaller than a man’s by retirement age in the UK; women are far more likely to develop autoimmune diseases; women are 27% more likely than men to face harassment or abuse on social media platforms. The list goes on and on and on.
Maybe ‘just a girl’ is a daily rebellion
Maybe saying we’re just girls is a way of shielding from all that pressure for a moment. A way to ease it, just for a second, in our heads. To return to a time where we didn’t have to have career goals and financial independence, or a timeline for children. A time where a babybel, some carrot sticks and a kinder egg could be your dinner and it didn’t matter if you didn't meet your macros, and - ideally - you felt safe and loved and protected at least some of the time.
‘Just a girl’ doesn’t have to mean that we’re using stereotypes as excuses. Maybe it’s actually a daily rebellion, a way of letting go of the standards we’re constantly held to by ourselves and the rest of the world for a minute.
I do not say ‘I’m just a girl’ because girls are not as good or as smart or as capable. I’m just a girl, sometimes, because I’m sick of being good and smart and capable and just want to be accepted and playful and free. So, just, let us have it – isn't it more misogynistic to try and stop us girls using the language that we find empowering? Just a thought.