Lessons from a Former “Pick Me Girl”

What internalized misogyny is and how to lose it

Yes, this is an apology. I didn’t know better. But I can tell you about how girls like me internalized misogyny, very often from our family of origin. And, I can tell you a bit of how I stopped throwing other women under the figurative bus.

Urban Dictionary offers a few definitions of a Pick Me Girl, and these are their go-to traits:

• They‘re “not like other girls”
• They low-key or unabashedly put down other girls for their femininity
• They may subscribe to interests and activities that have been traditionally “male” such competitive sports or gaming
• They may act like the “female equivalent of a simp” (ie. deferential only to the male members of a social group)
• They may share or express material that put women in the worst light.

My Own Dark Era

I cannot recall my own teenage examples without cringing, but it does tell you my Pick Me peak happened during that period, particularly when I had just graduated out of girls’ school at age 16. I loudly hated skirts and the color pink. I was the only girl I knew who was desperate to play Dungeons & Dragons (I actually wasn’t, but I had written off other girls), and I was just angry. All. The. Time.

Girls’ school, as it turned out, had not been a time I felt much commonality or solidarity with my gender. In fact, our school motto infuriated me: “Demure and resolute”, and I was only resolutely angry at the expectation that women had to be “demure” instead of assertive and self-advocating.

I fit badly with my entire country and culture— I refused to defer to the assumed superiority of old, male fogeys who held top position in Confucian society. I had observed most of the authority figures around me to be hypocritical, ignorant, cruel, and easily manipulated old coots. I constantly questioned the popularity of puerile trends and obsessions subscribed to by my peers (I did not get into romance novels, church socials, or boy bands) and I was still years away from getting out of Singapore and into the US where radio stations actually played stuff outside of insipid pop ballads.

So I was an odd duck with a mean vocabulary (see: puerile), hanging out mostly with other nerds or outcasts, yet my feelings of isolation persisted. It might have been the constant contrast between myself, a quietly depressed girl with very esoteric interests and a persecution complex, and… well, other girls.

My little social circles (till today) tended out of the norm, each with traits and experiences that set us apart: “broken” homes, a deep love of books, and speaking in the niche language of fantasy names and items long before the LOTR movies and Harry Potter were blockbusters.

There still wasn’t a lot to make me feel part of my culture of origin. All my beloved writers, artists, and content literally came from half a world away. I hated the submissive heroines of local and Asian dramas, and the dullness of the people who enjoyed these and our local political propaganda.

Perhaps, if I had been born somewhere else, there might have been goth, punk, or some other alternative culture for me to embrace. But instead, this was 1990s straightjacketed Singapore. Pre-Internet.

Internalization and Misogyny

Internalization is “the process in which social norms and values established by the society are adopted as one’s own” (Ryan & Connell, 1989). It’s often an act of self-preservation especially in inequal environments. Those who have experienced sexist or other discriminatory events feel “shame, confusion, powerlessness, and inferiority” (Szymanski & Feltman, 2014).

You can guess that it’s not unusual for such individuals to feel negatively about their own group and status… and this was me.

A daughter in a culture that expected women to be “demure”. An oopsie to parents who stopped after their next kid was a son — the actual grandkid wanted by Chinese grandparents everywhere. The elder daughter handily relegated to housemaid and babysitter, whose absence was only noted and inconvenient if the chores were not done.

For whatever reason, I knew there were other daughters like me, but I seemed alone in my rage. This has taken me decades to figure out.

Life in a Bullying Household

I didn’t want to be a woman or “like other girls” because I came from a home where women were constantly judged and insulted, at times deservedly, to my teenage eyes. At the family dinner table every night, my parents held court and played judge, jury and executioner to every woman who dared to appear on TV.

My mother would gasp and loudly condemn any female in revealing clothing. Cleavage was castigated whether it was covered or not. My father made no complaint about boobs or slutty villainesses, but “horse-faced” and heavy women were fair game.

I won’t lie; I joined in. In a hypercritical household, it was a relief to have someone else take the heat off me and my insecurities, and to have a talent my parents approved of, even if it was trashing women and strangers on TV. At the time, it didn’t even feel like a coping mechanism, but a skill for “spotting quality”. Our tastes and standards surely made my family superior to others because none of us would ever embarrass ourselves like these imperfect, mediocre performers and public figures and the people who liked them. We were obviously one of the last bastions of refinement in a world going to pot.

On the inside, my dulled, numbed heart didn’t even know it was taking damage. It got afraid of taking chances. It got afraid of making mistakes. It was afraid of being feminine, being ugly, being vulnerable or weak or dumb or emotional. It was also afraid of being too powerful and shrewish. It was afraid of wearing the wrong thing and trying too hard, and it was also afraid of not making an effort at all. It became afraid of being anything that my parents could criticize that came under their eye.

Amid the impossible standards and double binds, it was just better to be not like other girls. I had come to believe all the negative stereotypes of my own gender. And I felt I was not particularly feminine, nor did I want to be, especially with my parents around.

I had to be better than all the women, whatever that looked like. Everything was a competition.

Objectification and Self-Objectification

The internalization of oppressive/sexist attitudes by discriminated groups and individuals has been found in multiple studies to affect self-esteem, life satisfaction, and depression. Internalization is the acceptance of “ascribed gendered behaviors and norms” (Rahmani, 2020) and self-objectification, or the valuation of oneself by physical attractiveness (Fredrickson & Roberts, 1997). The latter has unsurprisingly again been shown to influence anxiety, depression, eating disorders and other health problems (Harper & Tiggemann, 2008).

Growing up, the misogyny hit me in a double whammy from both parents. My mother too seemed to measure my value in what I could offer to men, and that appeared to be precious little, with my glasses and penchant for correcting men of their ill-informed opinions.

When I was devalued, I struck back with the most logical weapon: To devalue and invalidate the people who judged me. With my mother, this was easy; In my teens, she started treating me like competition. She was not above publicly humiliating me about my acne and menstrual health to our neighbours and relatives, and blaming my “habits”, when I was already doing everything I knew how to do. (Emotional abuse was normal in my family, especially with anyone showing health issues, I just wouldn’t realise what abuse was for some decades yet.)

In hindsight, I had rarely experienced what it was like to have another woman on my side. If anything, all older women were potential danger, because they could humiliate and shame me at any time. Fighting back had the risk of bringing further consequences. I wasn’t sure about women my own age either. I was afraid and insecure around them.

In that toxic and misogynistic environment, men were my subconscious sources of validation. But because I was not allowed to be feminine (at least that my parents or friends could see), the only way I knew to get it was to be (say it with me now) “not like other girls”.

How I Got Better

It was a long road. Working with escorts was part of it. Getting divorced and being with other single mothers was part of it. Working as a New Age Tarot reader was yet another part.

And also therapy, my growing education and recognition of abuse, and the acceptance of my long-neglected need for social and emotional support.

Thankfully, I had gotten heaps better by the time my Libra daughter was verbal and asking questions and observant with people. Media had also improved by leaps and bounds. My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic and rebooted She-Ra might have been the last pieces to mend my broken, bitter heart.

I let myself be soft with my daughter. I taught her that feelings weren’t bad but needed acceptance and kind words. I repeated and would keep on repeating that people are allowed to like whatever they like without judgment, unless the content is fascist, sexist, or racist. (Kids understand this.) That people just want to be accepted and seen. That abuse and discrimination was not acceptable. I reparented myself with these principles too.

And lastly I taught her that patriarchy is the enemy.

That last one might have been a joke (or not) but here are some of the protective factors against internalized misogyny that have been found in Psychology:

• Speak up. Reject sexism and misogyny when it’s spotted. If you must stay silent, at least challenge it for yourself and what you believe
• Embrace diversity in how people express gender, especially expressions that challenge old, restrictive, and heteronormative stereotypes
• Support other women in their sharing of stories and experiences. Validating their hurt in sexist systems can help prevent the internalization of misogyny for them
• Value traits associated with women instead of dismissing or downplaying them in preference for toxic masculinity
• Recognise abuse can be verbal, mental, emotional and psychological
• Realise psychology safety is important for everyone’s wellbeing, and this includes protection from sexism and rape culture, including jokes and conditioning that blame women for their victimization and violation by men.

If you can think of more, I’d love to hear them. Thanks for reading.