Sisterhood is....Toxic. Sometimes.

There was an interesting article in the New York Times yesterday about how friendship between women can go so very, very wrong. It was written by a woman who had pledged to a sorority in college, and then drank too much at a party one night and had a sexual misadventure (one which might even be called rape) For this she was branded a "slut" and drummed out of her sorority. Years later, when she was in a store with her two daughters, she ran into one of the women who had played a lead role in this unpleasant drama, who greeted her like the old friend she most definitely wasn't. While her former tormentor nattered on, the writer of the story stood there in shock, re-living the whole ordeal. Later, she asked: "How do we help our girls navigate the duplicitous female maze? How do we ensure that they behave authentically, respect humanity over fleeting alliances, and squash the nasty tribal instincts that can inflict lifelong distress? I don’t know. I’m afraid I never will."

It struck home with me--partly because I have two daughters, too, and partly because this kind of thing never seems to stop. If it's not some clique in middle school, it's the PTA clique at your daughter's middle school, or the nasty comment from the neighbor, or.....the list goes on. Anyway, I was moved to write an e-mail to the writer of this article, and here it is:

I have two daughters, too, and I've also been taught the hard way to be wary of other women--or, at least, other women in big groups. I learned this not so much by being the immediate victim, but by watching as my sister (two years older) became the victim. With her it began in the last part of elementary school and lasted throughout high school. You could say it lasted throughout life. I'm now 52; she's 54.

 

My daughters are ages 7 (almost) and 11. My oldest has ADD and is slightly chubby--two strikes right there. She's socially a bit clumsy, but she does have a few friends. She's now in middle school, and the other day I dropped her off at school late and watched her walk away from me. Another girl was walking towards me and I caught the look of disdain on the other girl's face as she glanced over my daughter's wet hair (she'd just gotten out of the shower) and the scruffy clothes she had on that day. I did two things. One: we went out that weekend and spent $300 on clothes (probably more than she really needed, but what the hell.) And two: we had a long talk (several actually) in which I told her that popularity was NOT to be sought. Period. That girls who desperately wanted popularity were either not going to get it, or were going to get it and were not going to be worth knowing. I told her, "All you need are two or three really good friends. In fact, all you really NEED is one good friend." And, of course, to have a friend, you have to be a friend. That's my solution to teaching her how to navigate the duplicitous female maze: don't go in the maze to begin with. Because the secret is, you don't have to.

 

Women (and girls) in groups can be vicious. One on one, and in smaller groups, they can be lifelines, and a whole different kind of emotional support than any man can offer. We're hard-wired that way, too--it's the flip side of the bitchiness. I have trouble trusting other women, too, but that's how it's always worked for me: a small, very select group of women I can be close to. One other thing: I've made an unshakable rule that I will not be friends with any woman who I can't be ruthlessly straight with. Now, nobody is ruthlessly honest all the time--but what I mean is, no pussyfooting around. No, "Oh, I LOVE it!" when you hate it. No big grins and pretending everything is hunky dory. No "be sweet" crap. No aggression in the guise of sisterhood. I strive to say what I mean and mean what I say. Sometimes it's gotten me into trouble; but mostly, I think, it's helped me meet like-minded women. They ARE out there. When I meet one, both of us tend to laugh in relief. They're not hard to recognize, after awhile.

 

So are the shrieking harpies. If I'd been you and met whatsherface in the store, I would have (after I recovered from my shock) said, "You know, Sherylee (or Bambi or whatever her name was), there's something I've been wanted to say all these years to you, and that's FUCK YOU, you miserable little hypocritical troll from hell." Then, I guess, I'd have to give my daughters a little talk about how nobody should use the F word except on extremely rare occasions, but that sometimes the rules have to be bent in order to stand up for yourself.

 

I hope you can see your way to having some women friends someday...if for no other reason to talk about how, ultimately, it's a society which values men over women which produces female  self-hatred, which in turn produces this kind of shitty behavior. Meanwhile, good luck with getting over this. I've seen my sister's experience, and I know it's hard. But you have daughters, and they need to learn how to pick people to trust, whatever gender they are.

 

All the best,

 

Tracy Thompson

I sent it off yesterday. Who knows? Maybe she'll reply. Maybe we'll get to be friends.