I spent a significant chunk of my 20s trying to be the “Cool Girl.” Not that I was genuinely cool or that anyone else thought so; rather, I was obsessed with transforming into the version of myself that I believed would be most beneficial—even at the cost of my own well-being and that of other women around me. I dismissed feminism, found myself in a perpetual rivalry with other women, and often resorted to mocking them, especially in front of men.
We all know the “Cool Girl,” the one who insists she gets along better with men than with women. She prides herself on being “one of the guys,” avoids any hint of “drama,” and readily joins in on criticizing other women, both individually and as a collective. When allegations of violence against women arise, she’s quick to point out that some women must be lying. The Cool Girl is the one who dismisses casual misogyny and sexist jokes as nothing, claiming she’s not “uptight.” She’d rather be caught dead than labeled a “feminist” and revels in sports, gaming, hunting, beer, red meat, and more.
It’s not that many women don’t truly enjoy these activities. I’ve always been a sports fan and currently work in sports media, where the pressure to embody the Cool Girl persona can be intense. Women in this field are expected to be attractive but not demanding, articulate yet non-political, knowledgeable enough but not threatening to men. The sports media scene is filled with Cool Girls navigating this tricky balance. Some adopt this persona for career advancement, while others do it just to get by. The Cool Girl is often more readily accepted by fans than any other representation of women in sports media. Those who speak openly about equality and feminism face more challenges (as one male colleague once told me, “No one wants a buzzkill on their TV”). And it’s easy to see how a woman who calls out her male counterparts for inappropriate jokes and objectifying behavior might not have the best reception. Thus, the Cool Girl flourishes, often leaving a trail of Regular Girls behind her.
And let’s not think the pressure to be a Cool Girl in sports media is limited to young, budding professionals. Take, for example, seasoned college football reporter Kelly Marcus, who, after confronting a colleague for calling her “Sweetheart” on the job, not long after asked a head coach why his team didn’t have more opportunities to see girls in bikinis while in Florida for a big game.
Reflecting on my time as a Cool Girl during the 2016 election, I wondered about the women who aligned themselves with candidates like Donald Trump and brushed off his history of groping and degrading women. How could they dismiss their own experiences with harassment so easily? What drives a woman to turn her back on the issues that matter to all women? What compels her to side with men like Trump and those who support him?
Julie S. Lalonde, a Canadian women’s rights advocate, explains, “Women are raised to compete against each other, and many carry that mindset throughout their lives. There’s this notion that if you distance yourself from other women and align yourself with men, they’ll choose you and treat you with respect. This is referred to as ‘proximity to power,’ where aligning with those in power is believed to grant you access to it.”
Writer and activist Tara Easton believes the Cool Girl is a societal construct, not just a phase some women experience. “Women aligning with men at the expense of other women isn’t necessarily psychological; it’s more about how patriarchy works: pitting women against one another to serve the interests of men who are positioned as their caretakers and providers.”
Jessica Blake, another writer, once told me that sexism rewards individuals across the board, regardless of gender, and I certainly felt that during my Cool Girl phase. By cozying up to the guys and making it clear I wasn’t on the women’s side, I was subconsciously hoping to carve out a unique space for myself—one that would shield me from the treatment I saw other women enduring.
The downside of being “one of the guys” is that men are unabashedly candid when discussing other women around you. I’ve heard women’s bodies critiqued in such detail that it still haunts my self-image. Once, I sat in a circle of men discussing a fellow student who could have easily modeled her way through law school. They picked apart every aspect of her appearance, reducing her to mere object. I didn’t say a word.
While I’m not proud of my Cool Girl phase, I could at least comfort myself with the notion that it was a youthful folly, a lack of feminist role models, or something similar. For me, the Cool Girl was a phase.
But what about those middle-aged women who viciously attacked Hillary Clinton or the women who accused Trump of sexual assault during the campaign? What’s their rationale?
“They want to seem ‘chill’ and not like those humorless feminists who don’t let men be men,” says Lalonde. “But underneath that is 1) internalized misogyny and 2) a desire for power by association.”
Nair argues the real issue is the stagnation of feminism itself. “We’ve come to accept the idea that there are ‘multiple’ feminisms, including those that support blatantly sexist attitudes. I don’t believe solidarity with women is a prerequisite for feminism, but solidarity with all humans in overthrowing capitalism and patriarchy certainly is.”
The problem with embodying the Cool Girl is that, eventually, I found myself trapped by that persona. One day, I started to realize that what I once shrugged off as “guys being guys” was really just the casual workplace sexism stunting my career. After years of letting inappropriate jokes slide, I discovered my Cool Girl facade didn’t earn me any respect when I finally spoke up. It dawned on me that, despite my harsh critiques of other women, men still viewed me as just another stranger. In the end, being the Cool Girl yielded me nothing.
Lalonde isn’t shocked by my epiphany. “Many women experience a ‘patriarchal wake-up call’ when something terrible happens to them. They trust a man who betrays that trust or align themselves with men who end up selling them out. This betrayal fosters a deep sense of loss, as they believed they were ‘safe’—whether literally or figuratively. ‘Proximity to power’ is a trap, and it’s disheartening that many women only recognize it after they fall into it.”
Now, 15 years removed from my Cool Girl era, I proudly advocate for feminism and equality. When I see young women online mocking feminism and championing the patriarchy, I’m thankful that social media didn’t exist to capture my earlier misguided views. Despite my own journey, I worry that the internalized misogyny in some young women runs so deep they may never see the light.
However, Lalonde remains optimistic about reaching Cool Girls of all ages. “I believe highlighting that sexism, racism, homophobia, and classism are systemic issues can help people understand the bigger picture. Whether discussing controversial figures or women saying, ‘He can grab me!’ the key is to keep showing that social justice movements are here to expose the rigged system, not to paint all marginalized individuals as victims or all white men as villains.”
In summary, the quest to be the Cool Girl can lead to harmful self-perception and internalized misogyny. While it can seem like a shortcut to acceptance, it ultimately isolates women from each other and perpetuates societal issues. Recognizing and addressing these dynamics is essential for fostering true solidarity and progress.