"I'm Not Like Other Girls": Reading Between The Lines of Female Competition

She’s not like other girls — she thinks reading books instead of going out to parties makes her ‘different’, she thinks being friends with girls causes too much drama, she is convinced liking old music makes her ‘quirky’. Sound familiar? If not, I’ve just described the “I’m not like other girls” phenomenon. It is essentially used by, and to describe, girls that seem different and quirky because they don’t conform to the traditional stereotypes attributed to women and femininity. While some seem to view this phrase as a compliment that makes them stand out amongst other girls, the truth is far more problematic. 

 

Instead of it producing the desired effects of flattery or confidence, when someone uses “I’m/you’re not like other girls” as a self-affirming phrase or compliment, what is actually being said is “other girls are bad and it’s good that you’re not like them”. It is often given as a badge of honour as if to say “you’ve managed to avoid all stereotypes about women and therefore you’re better than those who haven’t managed to do this”. This phrase isn’t congratulatory at all. It not only creates a hierarchy of women — those that align with stereotypes of women are at the bottom and those that are “different” are at the top — it strives to pit women against each other. The phrase “I’m not like other girls” is a symptom of our conditioning to believe that we need to be different and better than other girls in order to be valued by men and the patriarchy. 

 

The patriarchy loves to worm its way into our lives, pitting woman against woman in a competition for male validation, and I used to be its victim. My early teenage years were filled with a fourteen-year-old Lucy desperately trying to prove she was different from the “other girls” in her school year. I thought that choosing to read every night instead of going to a party made me “different” and interesting — it didn’t. I was convinced that if I hated pink enough then boys would see me as edgy and cool (even though pink is actually my favourite colour). I loved wearing makeup but claimed I wore it as a form of artistic expression instead of just admitting that I liked wearing makeup in an attempt to appear better than my peers (still cringe over this one).

 

FYI, it’s completely fine to do any of those things. It’s valid not to like parties or to love reading or to not like wearing makeup. These are all valid choices and a part of who you are, maybe forever or maybe just right now. But, and I say this with love, doing these things doesn’t make you different or better or any more special than other girls. We’re all multifaceted beings capable of being vividly interested in different things. The patriarchy is tricking you into thinking that other girls don’t have hobbies or interests or rich friendships. We all have our own interests and individual tastes, but just because they're different from another’s, it doesn’t mean you’re better than her.

 

Way back in my early teenage years, I thought these things did make me special and different. I now know that my desire to be seen as “not like other girls” was due to my difficult relationship with femininity. This difficult relationship was founded on internalized misogyny. It is important to recognise that those still stuck in this “I’m not like other girls” mentality are often thinking this way through no fault of their own but through a patriarchal conditioning that cultivates a rivalry with other women. The patriarchy brainwashed fourteen-year-old me into thinking that I should strive to be as different from other girls as possible because other girls are the competition and I needed to stand out amongst them. This idea that women should be constantly competing with each other is a tactic used to make us strive for the validation of the male gaze. The patriarchy ensures that we break our bonds and ties with other women by painting them as the competition for male validation. This idea that girls needed to constantly compete with each other made me dislike a lot of traditionally “feminine” things so I would stand out and be seen as cool and quirky. 

 

As much as I tried to distance myself from traditional femininity and instead adopt the “not like other girls” mentality, I knew deep down that I was jealous of these girls. I wanted to be like them. I thought they were incredibly cool, stylish and interesting. I was jealous that these other girls could wear, do and say exactly what I wanted to wear, do and say but couldn’t because I was supposed to be in competition with them. I denied myself the opportunity to do so many things and have friendships with many amazing girls simply because I wanted to be “not like other girls”.

 

It’s safe to say that, after my introduction to feminism, fourteen-year-old me overcame this logic that other women were competition and I had almost retired “I’m not like other girls” to the back of my mind. That is until last year, when I was struck with a cliche ‘compliment’. They told me “you’re not like other girls—I like the fact you don’t wear much makeup”. I remember blinking, shocked at what had just been said and a bit unsure on how to reply. I thought that using this phrase as a compliment to impress girls was just a myth I’d heard about that only ever seemed to appear in fanfics or YA novels. But someone had actually tried to compliment me by bringing other women down (not to mention by being wildly inaccurate — I actually wear lots of makeup).

 

This supposed compliment revealed to me the way they thought about other women. They thought I would be flattered by saying I was somehow better than them. Fourteen-year-old me would’ve been flattered — being complimented because I wasn’t like other women was the ultimate goal. But now all this compliment brings is a massive red flag and a reflection on how much I’ve grown since those days of competing with other women for space, attention and validation.

 

I’ve come to realise that I’m exactly like other girls — we are all the same. We are all multifaceted, multidimensional human beings capable of having vivid interests, an individual sense of style, varying hobbies and so much more. Realising that I was exactly like other girls was a major catalyst in helping me overcome my internalized misogyny and difficult relationship with femininity. We must stop trying to compete with other girls for attention and male validation. Easier said than done, I know, but on the other side of this competition is a healthy relationship with femininity, womanhood and with other girls.