From Tabloids to TikTok: How Pop Culture Turned Women Against Each Other – And How We Can Break The Cycle 

I sensed that intra-women rivalries had reached a tipping point the day my jeans got dragged into a fight. All spring I’d been following the fake-feud dynamics of Meghan vs Gwyneth, Hailey vs Selena, Blake vs the internet. What I hadn’t expected was my barrel denim to become a flashpoint in the culture wars – the ankle-grazing millennial style foe of the puddle-sweeping parachute jeans claimed by Gen Z.

Unfortunately, today’s popular culture is in thrall to the idea of women fighting and will fan the flames of conflict whenever possible. On any given day, countless TikTok commentators parse the (often imaginary) details of celebrity rivalries. Influencers form girl gangs with their own ornate hierarchies. Trends such as ‘Pick Me vs Baddie’ and ‘That Girl’ underscore the idea that women exist in permanent opposition to one other, and must bring each other down in order to thrive. These dynamics naturally trickle down to the rest of us: we are left comparing our imperfect faces, bodies, relationships and lives to the more perfect versions we peer at online; seeing only flaws in need of a fix, or rivals in need of a reckoning.

It hasn’t always been this way. Feminism has never been perfect, but during the second half of the 20^th century, activists fought for a culture in which women raised each other up, congregating in groups to discuss each other’s needs, and endorsing the idea of a shared sisterhood. The movement made real gains, as more women entered the workforce in record numbers, gained reproductive rights, and made art that powerfully documented their experiences and their struggles.

But then the 2000s happened. I’ve spent three years researching the entertainment of the 21^st century for my book, Girl on Girl: How Pop Culture Turned a Generation of Women Against Themselves, and one thing that was truly striking to uncover was how insistently this era taught women that they had to fight with each other to win. The inclusive, intersectional thinking of 1990s third-wave feminism was shunted out in favour of a more individualistic ethos of Me First. The new genre of reality television set up women as competitors scrapping over the “prize” of a man. Shows such as Who Wants to Marry a Multi-Millionaire?, The Bachelor, Flavor of Love and Wife Swap turned female conflict into ratings gold.

Other forms of culture followed the same pattern. The women musicians of the 1990s – the Riot Grrrls and rock artists who made protest music about inequality and sexual violence, and who worked collectively to establish festivals such as Lilith Fair – were edged out of the industry for a new generation of sexualised teenage solo artists. And as the internet became much more of a presence in people’s lives, a new kind of celebrity gossip industry was born – one that invented female rivalries, obsessed over the minutiae of stars’ lives and was ruthlessly cruel to women in the public eye. 

The culture of the 2000s asserted the idea, ripped right out of Jane Austen, that women are competing for limited resources and should go to any length necessary to secure their own success. The phrase “I’m not here to make friends” captured the ethos of reality shows where contestants regularly insulted one another, fought and established rival friendship groups with arcane pecking orders. Gossip magazines and tabloids sold millions of copies on the backs of projected female rivalries: Britney and Christina, Jen and Angelina, Paris and Lindsay. Meanwhile, the movies of that era celebrated male friendship, male bonding, and male rites of passage, while positioning women as shrews, scolds or vacuous sex objects.

“The spectacle of women pitted against each other – competing for fame, male attention and mass approval – is deeply rooted in media, and even in our own minds.”

We’ve long since evolved in ways that let us see how toxic this era was, and how damaging it was to women in particular. Studies have found that when women are encouraged to compete with one another, their own careers and relationships tend to suffer. But the spectacle of women pitted against each other – competing for fame, male attention and mass approval – is deeply rooted in media, and even in our own minds. These days, competition culture is more likely to wear a progressive or a faux-feminist guise. The girlbosses of Selling Sunset, peacocking in absurd glam while sniping and backstabbing, mostly sell themselves as strivers hustling for commissions. Meanwhile, wellness influencers and women shilling for MLM recruits propagate impossible standards and unrealistic goals under the spectre of celebrating sisterhood. 

But there is still another option. If we look back to the decades when the feminist movement had its most powerful impact, it did so by persuading women that they were stronger together. Girl-against-girl culture is less a trap than a minefield. Navigating it requires resisting the urge to judge other women, calling out people who build careers on stoking female conflict, listening to and elevating other women’s voices and being conscious while engaging with media, understanding that much of it is intended to get attention in ways that make things harder for women. Influencers and storytellers who encourage, rather than indict, each other help to support an environment set up for everyone to thrive, making it easier for each of us to be empowered in turn. There has never been a better time to fight for rather than with other women, making space to imagine what might be possible when we aren’t perpetually being persuaded to work against each other.