"You’re not like other girls.”
Translation: I’ve just basically said I’m not a big fan of women in general, but you’re pretty nice, and I expect you to take that as a compliment.
How many times have you been told, in one way or another, that ‘you’re not like other girls’? And how many times have you got all excited because, like, that is such a big compliment?
I’ll answer first: too f*cking many.
It’s not always stated in those exact words. Sometimes it’s “You’re so interesting to talk to” or “It’s so refreshing how laid back you are” or “Wow, not a lot of girls like Rick and Morty.”
Sometimes it’s even “God; my exes were such psychos, so glad you’re not like that!” What’s that, a bunch of red flags, for me?
A cultural shift has left heterosexual women wanting more from their relationships and, in turn, realising that men can’t always provide for them in the way they want.
The patriarchy mainlines misogyny into our veins from such a young age that by our teens, most girls won’t think twice about taking “You’re not like other girls” as a compliment. And a big one at that. Who cares if all the best people I know are other girls? Right now, there’s a 17-year-old with cider breath who wants to put his tongue down my throat, so I am going to listen to what he says, thank you very much!
I didn’t even lack a basic awareness of feminism as a child and young woman. Seriously, at age two, I was refusing to build a snowman – it was a snowgirl, and I’d hear no more about it. I have always been staunchly pro-woman. By secondary school, if a boy had said to me, “I think most girls are sh*t, but you’re pretty cool,” I would have told him he was being a sexist pig. Or at least I hope I would have. I probably would have still let him kiss me after, if I’m being totally honest.
Still, yearning to not be like other girls – and so to be special to boys – was very much underneath the surface. That’s why they call it internalised misogyny.
Despite growing up in a post–Spice Girls “If you wanna be my lover, you gotta get with my friends” era, I was very much more concerned with securing the lover than enjoying the friends. The male gaze was a light bulb, and I was a little fly constantly buzzing against it, getting burned and then coming back for more. Weren’t we all?
The star is celebrating her 37th (!) birthday today.
Meanwhile, were boys all focused on the approval of girls? Was their self-esteem totally dependent on our attention? Like f*ck it was. Boys were also being taught that it was boys who they needed to impress. Even their pursuit of girls was all too often wound up in their endeavours to prove their worth to their (male) mates. So, that’s fun and fulfilling for all concerned.
The world tries ludicrously hard to convince us that being the best girl, rather than the best person or simply the best version of ourselves, is what we should strive to be. I suppose it distracts us from realising that we’re already better than a lot of men, which would be a disaster for the whole patriarchy thing.
It’s also a useful distraction from how f*cking sublime other girls really are. Women are my fortress and my inspiration. Women built and sustain me. Almost all of the most constant, nurturing and joyous figures in my life have been women. The majority of music, art and literature that has shaped me was forged from the souls of wonder women.
It really shows how little attention these men have paid to women, that they actually think not being like them is a compliment. It really shows how brainwashed women have been that so many of us have taken it as such. If I’m not like other girls, then what am I like? Cishet men? No thanks.
Love Island may be over, but my adoration for Ekin-Su lives on.
But isn’t that what these men are saying, most of the time? You’re kind of like a dude, but also you’re a girl so we can do sex without compromising my toxic masculinity. Or maybe not, maybe it’s that you’re more like the fantasy Cool Girl they’ve read so much about. Either way, it’s not really you, they’re talking about; it’s what they want you to be, for them.
Maybe you have the same interests as him and he thinks that’s unusual for a girl. Maybe you make him laugh so he thinks you’re funny for a girl. Maybe you’re okay with keeping things casual so he thinks you’re cool for a girl. Maybe you’re engaging to debate with about subjects that he’s interested in, so he thinks you’re really smart, for a girl. Urgh.
If it’s not clear by now, let me make it so: none of us should be happy with any so-called compliment that ends with for a girl. Knowingly or not, this form of ‘praise’ has always been a method of control. A stamp of approval from the men whose love we are told completes us. And a way of separating us off from our allies, our sisters, our biggest cheerleaders and closest friends.
In a strange way, it is telling us to be less like ourselves. The idea that being remarkable or hilarious or cool or bright or strong has anything to do with other women not being remarkable or hilarious or cool or bright or strong is the biggest pile of shit I’ve ever heard. Personally, I know I am those things because of other women, not in spite of them.
Other girls are funny and talented and brave and beautiful. They are sharp and sexy and fragile and smart. They are strong and bold and sometimes troubled. They are magnificent and multifaceted. They are matriarchs and misfits. They are powerful and vulnerable and courageous and kind. They are warrior women and I hope to God that I am like them!
Condensed and extracted from Tinder Translator: An AZ of Modern Misogyny by Aileen Barratt (Hardie Grant).
