"When I was in seventh grade, One Direction was all the rage. Well, for everyone except me. I remember seeing so many of my classmates deep in conversations over which member was the cutest and freaking out whenever a new song played on the radio. Meanwhile, I just didn’t understand the hype. I didn’t think any of the boys in the band were worth arguing over, and even though the only song of theirs I knew was What Makes You Beautiful, I disliked it enough to rule out their whole discography.
That’s not to say I wasn’t obsessed with any boy bands. I was head over heels for 5 Seconds of Summer, who were arguably just as popular, but not liking One Direction made me different from everyone else. Looking back now on moments like this, I can’t help but cringe for several reasons. I can’t believe my younger self cared so much about being different from all the other girls I knew—especially now, when my taste is as basic as it gets.
“How did being ‘not like other girls’ become something to strive for? How could I ever think being girly was so bad in the first place?”
Whenever I’m looking for a movie to watch, nine times out of 10 I’ll pick a rom-com. Taylor Swift was my top-streamed artist this year (for the fourth year in a row), and I’m still chasing the high of getting tickets to The Eras Tour. As an avid book lover, I read romance novels like they’re going out of style. I have become exactly like other girls, and I love it.
But as I navigate my early 20s, I’ve lately found myself in situations where I’m looked down on for liking these things. Coworkers tell me that romance novels don’t have any literary merit, and some friends take any chance to tell me that they dislike Taylor Swift. How did being “not like other girls” become something to strive for? How could I ever think being girly was so bad in the first place?
In the last two years, girlhood has taken over social media and the world, from fun new phrases like “girl dinner” to huge cultural moments like “brat summer.” But the criticism that came along with the fun has made me wonder what role other tropes like “not like other girls” might have played in the current discourse of femininity, especially in a world that’s increasingly dangerous for women.
What it means to be “not like other girls”
The phrase “not like other girls” isn’t a new concept. It’s been around since the early 2000s, and it’s exactly what it sounds like: when a woman considers herself better or more interesting than her peers for having interests that aren’t typically feminine. Think Janis from Mean Girls or Beca from Pitch Perfect. That’s not to say that any woman who prefers wearing black over pink is “not like other girls,” but it is different if they draw a lot of attention to their dislike of pink. Women who like playing video games have an interesting hobby that isn’t traditionally “feminine,” but an NLOG gamer might think they’re better than other girls who just play for fun. “Not like other girls” is a common fictional trope, too, giving us female protagonists on TV who think they’re special because they aren’t on the cheerleading squad or who are capable of leading revolutions in a fantasy novel but sneer at other women who care about their appearances.
Those who consider themselves “not like other girls” might make it a point of pride within themselves, not realizing the damage that it inflicts on women as a whole. Whether you have a genuine interest in something like video games or think playing them makes you better than your peers, you’ve likely been the victim of internalized misogyny. The insecurity that comes from having hobbies outside of the traditional gender binary may lead an NLOG to weaponize those insecurities to make themselves feel better or even to gain approval from men. But they do so at the expense of the girls they deem “basic.”
How the mindset is hurtful
I don’t think I was consciously aware of the “not like other girls” phenomenon back when I thought it was something to aspire to. But even if I’d never heard the words before, the idea was all around me. Songs like You Belong With Me and Girlfriend told me that I didn’t want to be seen as a “princess.” Shows like Gilmore Girls and Scream Queens poked fun at the popular girls while uplifting the bookworm protagonists.
“Women are already under a microscope for everything we do—the last thing any of us needs is to fall back into a mindset that only pits us against each other.”
To someone like my seventh-grade self, who wanted to be different and special, there were all kinds of sources telling me exactly what I needed to do in order to earn that label. The NLOG phenomenon is harmful for women at any age, but especially for young girls who are still figuring out what they like and who they want to be. Women are already under a microscope for everything we do—the last thing any of us needs is to fall back into a mindset that only pits us against each other.
Nowadays, “not like other girls” holds less weight than it used to. You’re a lot more likely to hear people using the phrase ironically or making fun of the way they acted when they were younger. But calling NLOGs “cringe” just adds another layer to the conversation. Where the original concept critiqued women who are outwardly feminine, standing up for the so-called “other girls” meant that women who weren’t as girly only acted this way because they wanted attention. This conversation also generally excludes Women of Color, making the idea of “not like other girls” even more twisted. It reinforces an outdated belief that femininity has no value or that it exists solely for external validation. We’re damned if we do it and damned if we don’t.
How I’m unlearning my old ways
One of my cringier moments as an NLOG adolescent was when my friends and I got into a legitimate fight over who was the most like a “tomboy.” I hated wearing skirts or having my hair down (both of which I have thankfully grown out of), so I thought that put me on top, but one of my friends said she was more tomboyish than me because she played in the woods behind her backyard. Looking back, nothing about this argument makes any sense, but I remember taking it so seriously as a kid.
I may not have directly described myself as “not like other girls” when I was younger, but I still can’t help feeling ashamed for thinking this way even though I didn’t know any better. It would’ve been totally fine for me to think of myself as a tomboy, but there was no need for me to make it into a competition. The other girls in my class were allowed to like boy bands that I found lame. I was wrong to think of them differently because of this one interest. There were probably so many more reasons why they loved One Direction outside of finding its members attractive. And even if that was the only reason, that was also completely OK! One thing I’ve realized as I get older is that saying I’m “not like other girls” isn’t the compliment I once believed it to be. If being seen as special meant that other women around me felt less special and valued, then maybe it wasn’t the label I so desperately wanted.
Why I love being “like other girls”
Not only do I feel a lot less pressure since I embraced my girlhood, but I’ve realized just how fun it is to be exactly like other girls. For one thing, I feel an unmatched sense of community. My friends and I have a Swiftie group chat, where we love dissecting album theories and having virtual listening parties whenever new music drops. When I saw the Barbie movie in theaters for the first time, I went with my sisters, mother, aunt, and grandmother, and we all wore whatever pink clothes we had. I went to a Niall Horan concert this past summer—yes, I did fall in love with One Direction eventually—and when he added one of my favorite songs to the setlist, I screamed along to every word.
Everyone has a different relationship to femininity. You can be basic, a little more “alt,” or something in between. In the literal sense, not being like other girls doesn’t take away from your own girlhood. Realizing that there’s nothing wrong with being like other girls is a sign of maturity, too. Being girly has always been a way for women to find value in their femininity, especially in a world that tells us we don’t have any. The only thing wrong is putting women into boxes in an attempt to make us forget how much stronger we are together.
I’m proud to be just like other girls, and now that I know better, I always will be.
Hannah Carapellotti, Contributing Writer
Hannah is an Ann Arbor-based writer with a bachelor’s in English and writing from the University of Michigan. Outside of The Everygirl, Hannah has written for The Michigan Daily, where she also served as an editor. She currently works at an independent bookstore and is interning for a literary agency.