Was the 2000s “Cool-Girl” Era Internalized Misogyny?

The early 2000s were a different time—we were different people, and culture was in a different place. Today, we see a resurgence of traditionally feminine archetypes: the glorification of the trad wife and stay-at-home moms, “girly pop” stars like Sabrina Carpenter, aesthetics like coquette and Cottagecore, and a countercultural return to soft girl living. Back then, though, these quintessentially girly expressions weren’t just unpopular, they were seen as deeply uncool, even antithetical to empowerment, feminism, and independence. 

TikTok cultural commentators have revisited this era’s vocal demonization of femininity by leading stars; a jarring, immature war between gravitas and femininity. Pop icons who embraced more overt feminine sensuality like Britney Spears and Christina Aguilera, were juxtaposed against grittier, rough around the edges singer-songwriters like Avril Lavigne and P!nk. The former were dismissed as pop industry plants, while the latter were praised as serious, tortured artists. This rivalry wasn’t purely media-driven, either. “Cool girls” like Avril and P!nk actively delighted in bimbo-shaming, positioning themselves as more serious, cultured, tasteful, and intelligent compared to the hyper-feminine, silly girls who dominated magazine covers. 

Female caricatures on TV were just as dichotomous, with floozy bimbo characters embodying traditionally feminine personas and girly interests, while the brooding, respectable, and virtuous female heroes embodied masculine ideals and mimicked boyish interests. Whether it was Mila Kunis in Forgetting Sarah Marshall, whose laidback lack of standards and unfussy, naturally attractive, but low-maintenance vibe was the ultimate aspirational Cool Girl, or Avril Lavigne’s insistence that she’s just “one of the guys,” always hanging out with her all-male band members, skateboarding, drinking beer and eating pizza, and rolling her eyes at the superficiality of stereotypically preppy blonde sex symbols like Britney Spears and Jessica Simpson. 

If today’s feminist standard is to be a girl’s girl, then the cool girl was the antithesis of that. The “girl’s girl” doesn’t want to be “not like the other girls” because she doesn’t view femininity or womanhood as inherently shameful. The cool girl, however, obtained her value through her polarity with fellow women. She was male-centered, engaged in pick-me behavior, and participated in regressive tropes that equated femininity with weakness and inferiority, rather than vulnerability, compassion, and silent strength.

But if the Cool Girl who’s not like the other girls archetype now feels transparently cringe—embarrassing, even—what made it so aspirational at the time? Why were masculine-coded women praised in the 2000s? What cultural forces incentivized girls to brand themselves this way? And perhaps more importantly, why did men reward it? 

At its core, the Cool Girl shtick was a maladaptive cultural reaction. Like most cringe enigmas of the past, it was an overcorrection to genuine feminist strides. Early feminism fought necessary battles: the right to vote, work, own property, and attain full societal autonomy. I don’t think many of us want to erase those strides or give up those rights. But as feminism evolved into its later waves, the objective of achieving legal equality and societal equality of opportunity (long since achieved) morphed into something self-defeating. 

Rather than valuing women as distinct and equally important contributors to society, with their unique strengths and virtues, femininity itself became stigmatized. Womanhood was implicitly devalued as weak, juvenile, and frivolous—something to overcome, not to embrace. Women began mimicking stereotypically masculine traits as a shortcut to respect. Casual sex, low emotional investment, indifference to meaningful relationships (especially intrasexual camaraderie and friendship), hyper-competitiveness, and disdain for stereotypically feminine interests became a form of misguided socialization as activism. In doing so, we threw the baby out with the bathwater. 

As later waves of feminism developed, women began to reject ties to womanhood altogether, believing that the blueprint for respect and value to society was to become like pseudo-men: women who drink beer, engage in casual sex, and “don’t care about drama.” This rejection of femininity wasn’t harmless or temporary. It set the stage for a deeper crisis of identity. Striving to become pseudo-men gave way to something darker and more pervasive: enter the trans social contagion and gender confusion era that has resulted in the elimination of women-specific spaces and experiences. 

This erasure of gender binaries and elimination of women-specific spaces may have scared us back into valuing womanhood, but thank god it did. Now, we’re re-asserting women’s indispensable role in life and society. We give birth to new life; we’re the primary caretakers of children, and we maintain the social bonds of our families and communities. While this certainly doesn’t manifest precisely the same way for every single woman, and there’s reasonable variation in temperament, personality, and interests, life is far too short to pretend that your biology was a mistake. Today’s reclamation of traditionally feminine roles and aesthetics isn’t regressive, but restorative. If there were ever a more appropriate use of “internalized misogyny,” it would be in rejecting those parts of ourselves that make us uniquely and distinctly women.