Not too long ago, being called a “girl’s girl” was one of the best compliments someone could give you. It meant you were the friend who hyped everyone up, who didn’t say bad things about other girls to make yourself feel better, and who smiled at strangers on the sidewalk. The concept took off on TikTok as a direct counter to the “pick me girl,” someone who acts in certain ways to gain male attention. A girl’s girl was her opposite, so what happened?
Like most things that start with good intentions on the internet, it got complicated. The label started to disconnect somewhere between viral posts and real-life morals. Women who disagreed with each other publicly were suddenly betraying other girls. This was even a thing in comment sections; one girl would be ganged up on just for having an opinion about whatever the post was. People became offended after forming a parasocial relationship with an influencer who didn’t play the “girl’s girl” part they expected from their own friends. To me, it looked a little bit performative.
The irony is comedic. A movement built around not tearing girls down became just another way to tear girls down.
There’s also a deeper discussion about how the “girl” prefix has been slapped onto everything: girl math, girl dinner, girl boss. What started as playful slang began forming women’s experiences into something that could be branded. When these things become trends, it’s fair to ask how much weight it actually carries.
We might just be tired of the performance; the curated posts, the shallow affirmations, and the trend of sisterhood that disappears as soon as the next new thing rolls around. Being a real friend to other women doesn’t go viral; it matters way more than TikTok likes or Instagram followers.
And honestly? That’s how it should stay.
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