Thursday, August 2, 2012

An Open Letter to Girls Who Hate Girls

                I didn’t get my ears pierced until after college.  I don’t know what color foundation I’m supposed to wear.  I hate drama and avoid it like the plague. 
                This is where I say “I’m not like other girls.”  And all the other non-girl girls nod their heads in agreement and we all pat ourselves on the back for being fellow non-girl girls who are totally not like other girls because ugh, OTHER GIRLS, am I right?
                No.  Absolutely nothing in the first paragraph makes me special.  This is the myth we’ve been taught to believe:  the average girl is a crazy, shallow bitch, and if you’re different, you’re “not like other girls.” 
                I remember the first time I was hated on by another girl simply because of my gender.  I was 19, and a couple guy friends were having a party.  I was over there pretty often, so I knew almost everyone there.  But there was one girl, a friend of Bob’s (not his real name), who I didn’t recognize.  So I thought, in the spirit of drunken friendliness, that I’d try to engage.  My girlfriends and I are firm believers that alcohol + music = dance party, so I invited her to join us.
                That look she gave me, like I was some kind of ditzy freak that was just not worth her time, confused the shit out of me.  I confronted my friend about it the next day and he explained to me that “she just doesn’t like other girls.”
                What.  First of all, she’s a girl.  If she met herself at a party, she would hate herself.  Right?  Do I have that right?  Secondly, I’m awesome.  Why would she want to deprive herself just because of my gender?  Which happens to be HER gender?
                Since then, I’ve been introduced to this concept time and time again.  I haven’t experienced quite that level of immediate disdain since, but I HAVE been told that “all my friends except you are guys because I hate girls” from other friends of mine.
                This isn’t to say dump your guy friends.  I have a ton of guy friends (ohmygodI’msopopular) and they mean the world to me, just like my girlfriends do.  Sometimes you just like typical “guy” stuff, so you have more in common with dudes.  That’s not girl hate; that’s guy love.  There’s a world of difference.
                But here’s the thing.  Too many of my female friends are drama-free cool chicks.  They’re smart and funny and easy to get along with.  They are NOT the exception.
                And plenty of guys I’ve met are gossip-mongering dicks who passive-aggressively attack their friends, often just for a chance to bang some chick.  We recognize THEY are the exception.  Why do we not recognize that for ourselves?  If a girl is a drama queen, she’s typical.  If a guy is, he’s an anomaly.
                But I’m guilty too.  When I’m at a party and I see some hot girl there, my first instinct is to assume that bitch is judging me.  It takes a few moments to realize that I am also that bitch, that she might be super cool, and that not all instincts are created equal and I should just be chill and say hi.
                Because I’ve been that slutty girl showing off my ass in that dress.  Wearing make-up doesn’t make a woman shallow.  Saying “like” every other word is just how I communicate.  I can’t judge others, because none of the above negates my own personal awesome.
                We have to fight against these prejudices every day, and instead of getting mad at the prejudices themselves, we get mad at the people we perceive to be propagating these prejudices.    No!  It’s the prejudices that are fucked up, not the made-up numbers of ladies we assume are actually like this.
                And maybe I’m wrong.  Maybe most girls are crazy drama queens who body snark behind each other’s backs.  But honestly, I don’t give a shit.  My girlfriends are too important to me to assume that every girl I meet sucks.  I fucking hated it when that was assumed of me. 
                You’re not awesome despite your gender.  You’re awesome – end of sentence.  Solidarity, sister.  Solifuckingdarity.

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