On being a girl's girl

The concept is really simple: it is harder for women, be softer on each other
On being a girl's girl
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2 min read

I’m seeing the term ‘girl’s girl’ everywhere. Celebrities are self-identifying or being dubbed that way. World record-breaking rower Kelsey Pfendler said she was a girl’s girl in an interview, as did actor Kritika Kamra in another. Actor Uorfi Javed called her colleague Ananya Pandey one recently too. Anjali Sivaraman defined a movie she had been in as a “girl’s girl kind of film”. Last year, Zara Larsson released a song called Girl’s Girl; this year, Sonia Feldman published a novel with that title.

It’s a cute term, but meaningful. To be a girl’s girl is essentially to de-centre men and male validation. To consider the impact of something on another woman. To support her. To hold her accountable, too, because solidarity without discernment is just another way of maintaining the status quo.

A girl’s girl is someone who cultivates female friendships, and examines her own internalised misogyny. To be a girl’s girl is just a really good thing. While like every term that makes one seem more trustworthy or interesting, it is surely being misused by some, it still provides a framing of self, other, and world that is ultimately productive — and subversive.

I recently had a disagreement with someone who said that I had used the word “mansplain”, coined by writer Rebecca Solnit, on him pejoratively. I explained that while I don’t speak for all women, in my view, the word isn’t a weapon. It just lets me move through this world with a bit of humour. I use “mansplain” without ire, because intrinsic in the defining of an act as mansplaining is the fact that I hold the true knowledge and power in that situation.

‘Girl’s girl’ is a little like that, to me: succinct, suggestive, but light. It hints of miserable realities and systemic inequality while still sounding innocuous. It situates change as something in our own hands, in our choices and circles. Grown women can be girl’s girls, and while the term contains diminutives, it is not diminishing in the way the word “girl” can be when used by a man.

‘Girl’s girl’, as a descriptor, also sounds like microdosing feminism. If the F-word feels too intimidating to claim as an ideology, this term simply encourages it in practice. It is fundamentally about uplifting other women and looking out for each other — especially in small ways.

Zara’s song is not an anthem. It’s a confession about falling short: “I wanna be a girl’s girl / But what happens when a girl’s girl wants the boy? / I know that she’s my friend, but…” The chorus is a bleak acknowledgment about how despite the simplicity of the term, it takes dedication to remain true to it. Even to those who are more naturally-inclined to a worldview of sisterhood, the hits we take — most especially from other women – can embitter that perspective.

Do you know what it feels like for a girl in this world?” Madonna sang way back in 2020. That’s really at the heart of the concept of being a girl’s girl: remembering that it is harder for us, and therefore to be softer on each other, and softer on ourselves.

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