Tuesday afternoon was spent in Forever 21 with my roommate shopping for a new pair of jeans. The song that blasted through the stereo was a light, airy beat with a woman’s voice chanting “I’m not like the other girls” over and over. I tried to check out the adorable, open-back top I held in my hand, but couldn’t seem to focus on anything but the lyrics of this song. Being told “you aren’t like the other girls” is, for some reason, a compliment. It has been twisted and rung out until it is a goal that young girls set for themselves. The goal is no longer to be yourself--it is to be anyone but the girl standing next to you.
I was guilty of this for a very long time. I didn’t paint my nails pink until I was a freshman in college; I “hated” Taylor Swift; I drank Dunkin’ Donuts coffee deliberately instead of Starbucks. I was afraid of being a “basic b*tch.” I was afraid of being myself. Girls are made fun of for the simplest things, like, for example, liking Chipotle or using the dog filter on Snapchat. We get torn apart for loving artists like Justin Beiber because it's so “girly” (like that’s a bad thing), but are given a pop quiz on Keith Richards’ blood type if we say we like classic rock. We are made fun of for spending afternoons shopping, getting our nails done, and getting a blow dry, but are unattractive if we haven’t done so. Stop making fun of girls for existing.
The "other" girls are amazing. They point the straw to you when they try a new drink to see if you want a sip. They straighten the back of your hair when you can’t reach. They'll let you borrow any compact of their makeup you ever need. They'll hold your hand at a crowded party--they'll pretend to be your girlfriend if that guy is being a creep! Girls aren’t punching bags and they are not punchlines, either. Stop pitting me against the same women who pull my hand to help me stand up. They aren’t weak and neither am I. If anything, I will be just like the other girls if that is what I want.
I will wear pink to every class I have and write in glitter ink. Or I won’t. I will giggle and sing Katy Perry and drink iced coffee in the winter. Or I won't. I will decorate my dorm room in heart-shaped pillows and teddybears and empty wine coolers if that is what I want to wake up to. Or…I won't. But, whatever it is I decide to do, I decided it. Stop using my gender as an insult; stop pitting me against the women who raised me; stop using my friends as a jumping-off point. I am different from the other girls because I am just one of them. I am different from the other girls because we are all different from each other. Imagine that--every girl is different. Every human is different.
So, as I stood in the mall watching my roommate mouth the words to a song she hardly knew and holding up tops for weekend nights, I realized something. I really don’t mind being like the “other” girls. I don’t mind being intuitive and sweet and fun. I watched my roommate smile and make small talk with the girl folding clothes--it would be an honor to be like the other girls.
