Her Too
How can we move beyond buzzwords to actually support each other?
The internet loves a t-shirt moment. At the Golden Globes, a photographer captured Jamie Lee Curtis going full tilt over cast mate Michelle Yeoh’s Best Actress win for her role in “Everything Everywhere All At Once.” You could feel the genuine joy she radiated for her friend. Then, the internet got ahold of it. Erin Gallagher posted: “Ladies, this is your vibe for 2023: unabashed hype woman.” She went on, in powerful prose, to call for all women to unlearn what we’ve been taught about competing with other women. That we should “[f]ind [our] Jamie.” Hype their Jamie. Be her Jamie.” Her post went viral. From all corners of the web, women praised the sentiment, resharing with our little applause emojis and resounding “THIS!!!-es,” our favorite stamps of approval in these millennial pink-washed echo chambers. I shared it, too. The author put it on a t-shirt. Jamie Lee Curtis even wore it. Once again, the internet was fed.
I want these t-shirt moments to mean something. I really do. But it’s not very often that our digital grandstanding translates into changed behavior. For a while, long before this viral moment, I’ve been wrestling with a question:
How can women actually support other women? Can we adopt a framework that takes us further than our talking points to change the way we treat each other, and in turn, deepen our self-respect so we can demand more for ourselves, too?
I think so. But we should probably set the table before we destroy it.
A lie exists in the centerpiece, the focal point from which we built our entire perception of this issue. The lie is that women are each other’s fiercest allies. From the start, we are taught in our late nights at summer camp and the cheer squad pyramid and the tearful good and welfares in our sorority houses that in another woman you will find a sister. Full stop. No questions. No carve-outs. Solving the momentary problems of our formative years with the help of girls in similar socioeconomic positions as us creates certain expectations of women as we move into adulthood. But I don’t know many who can say those expectations have been met.
Life happens to women when they go to work. We bear the burden of navigating unwanted advances, intimidation, discrimination, retaliation, and the subtleties of them all. The hints of what we suppose will come if we do or if we don’t. These challenges come onto us as individuals, which alienate us into believing that it has only happened once. That our problems are anecdotal; not systemic. We think, put your head down and be grateful. You’re being a baby. The blunt force of reality hits that this is not the rosy picture we’ve been painted, the one with equal numbers of men and women in the starting class, the one where our possibilities are as simple as our desire to pursue them.
We’re not only surrounded by men when this happens. There are women above us and beside us, in our offices and our cubicles as we whisper and cry that we don’t know what to do. Sometimes I can’t believe how many women I respected stood by and watched. They told me to relax. Focus on my family. Asked if it was worth it. But then again, how can I be surprised when there’s as many women terrified of another woman’s confidence? Even when times are good, they think, can there be room for us both? They have good reason to think there isn’t.
The truth is, we’ve all been marginalized at one point or another. Our natural instinct is to view anyone similarly situated as a threat to what we have—to what we’ve worked so hard for, which wasn’t easy to obtain. We carry these emotional bruises into our personal lives, too, where the pressures of womanhood can just as easily pit us against each other. Young women struggle to not conflate their own progress towards certain societal milestones with their friends’ trajectories towards the same, just as the invisible load of motherhood pressures exhausted women into unreasonable, superficial comparisons of their means and their mothering skills.
This isn’t news. We’ve long known that women benefit from tools and resources that help us rise above the challenges we face in the workforce and at home. What we often receive, though, are hollow initiatives. We are siloed into events for “Women in the Law” or encouraged to participate in employee resource groups for “Working Moms” or prompted to join “[insert career here] Moms” Facebook groups. There’s breadcrumbs of opportunities to support each other here, and definite value in feeling seen, but often, these groups serve to placate us. They’re a safe space to scream into the void with the unspoken instruction that our grievances and thoughts and ideas must stop at the door on the way out.
The internet does not give us much better. Over the past year, I’ve found myself deep in the corners of social media accounts that claim to be spaces advocating for women and mothers but are often just a recycling of other people’s tweets in cream-colored filters and buzzwords in of-the-moment fonts. Some are really doing the work, and I don’t mean to discount that. But in the age of fast fashion and quick activism, social media gives us permission to provide passive support. We’ve been conditioned to believe that liking a photo or sharing a link is the standard of what we should do rather than the bare minimum of what we can offer.
It's not enough.
There’s a difference between allowing other women to breathe in the same oxygen as you and actually supporting them. Support is harder.
How can we improve, then? There’s no instruction manual for unwinding a lifetime of this, and every person and situation warrants a different course. I’ve been thinking in the context of these four principles, which are by no means the outer limits, but rather, an entry point into changing the way we approach our relationships with other women. What if we all try to:
Speak from our hearts. The next time a woman opens the door to a vulnerable conversation about what she is going through, walk through it. Don’t placate her with a “wow, I’m sorry” or “that sucks” or “lol, oof.” You are actively shutting down someone who chose to tell you something personal. Go there. If you don’t know what to say, then ask questions; at the very least, ask how you can help. And follow up. You don’t need to reserve supportive energy for only the people who need you, either. Tell a woman you know (or a woman you barely know!) that you love her style. Text a girlfriend to ask how her vacation’s going. Show other women you are happy for them. It’s not weird. What’s weird is that we’ve reduced our vocabulary down to a red heart on Instagram. That’s not really your heart speaking.
Abandon our own expectations. We are trying to expand the pie—not slice it up smaller. If you do something kind for another woman because you expect a certain level of recognition in return, you are playing a game. Don’t tokenize a mentee or offer conditional favors to a friend. This sends other women the wrong message and perpetuates the kind of BS we’re all trying to escape. Detach your actions from your expectations. Good deeds must stand alone, or we’ll forever be keeping score.
Be brave. This one is hard, because many of us become bystanders to circumstances we wish we weren’t in. It’s easier to allow yourself to unsee things that don’t impact you directly, but at the risk of sounding cliché, silence is complicity. Tell another woman your salary. Back up her story. Stand next to a friend when the rest of them are whispering. Stick your neck out. You might be more capable of changing the outcome for her than you realize. In turn, you might become a better advocate for yourself in the future.
Acknowledge that it’s bigger than us. I am asking you to play a long game. Reposting one woman’s story or doing one favor at work might feel virtuous in the short term, but being supportive, as an adjective, requires a greater commitment to change. Think about physical conditioning and the length of time you have to train to feel a difference. Instinctively responding to other women in a new manner won’t just take weeks. It will take months, and even this Herculean task pales in comparison to the real boulder we are trying to move: creating change that inspires other women. The more you advocate and champion other women, the more they adopt the same ethos. The more women who adopt the same ethos, the more everyone is forced to normalize it.
It’s okay to get excited over a viral moment, which can be a great catalyst for awareness. But the risk lies in believing it’s that simple now: Buying some merch. Attending a lunch and learn. Reposting a square. Deep down, know it is not that simple. Women becoming more supportive of each other requires a revolution through generations, not hashtags. But it starts with our willingness to identify the moments where we can step up, and to actually do it. Let’s start there.
Do you have more ideas about how we can support each other? I want to hear them. Email averagejoelle3@gmail.com or drop in the comments below.
Also
I have COVID. My brain is an egg omelette. If I wasn’t so hyped up on this topic I wouldn’t have published this week. S/O to Vick’s VapoShower tablets, Mucinex, and BreatheRight nasal strips. Sorry for not having our typical pics, links, and tiny victories to share. As they say, I’ll circle back ASAP :)
Very well said. I have read many posts touching on the increasingly important topic of women supporting women...yours stands out. You speak in realistic terms, keying in on competition's pitfalls, while providing action steps one can undertake to better the situation. As a human being first and the father of a daughter second, the importance of women supporting women, in a male dominated world, cannot be overstated. I hope your COVID passes quickly.
So, so good Heather! You have such a gift of putting words to what so many women feel. I just texted some friends because of this article, trying to do my small part. :) Feel better and know you are appreciated!