The Mean Girls

Like most women, I was neither the popular nor the outcast at school. I was fortunate enough to have a group of close friends I could be certain of and who shared interests with me. Junior high and high school were fine. Not great, I have no fantasies of ever returning, but nonetheless, no worse than a season of “Survivor.” I had hoped though that over time the “mean girls” would somehow grow up, mellow with age, and in general, have that karma-botox that somehow smoothes out their sharp edges.

Well, recently, I have been proven wrong. Two separate instances have reminded me that the “mean girls” still exist and in full force. Some are the “mean girls” of my youth (literally), all grown up. They are still catty, they are still spiteful, they still believe they own the world. And I compare them to myself and my friends who seem perfectly “normal” and nice to me and I see very little differences in the circumstances of our current lives. No significant differences in income or neighborhood or access to the luxuries of middle-class parenting. But their sense of entitlement continues to wrap them in a safe cocoon of superiority. I wonder if this is what it’s like to be born into nobility – to know from birth that you are somehow better, brighter, prettier, stronger; or at least to be raised with these beliefs.

What baffles me though is when I encounter the new breed of “mean girls,” the ones I have only met recently as an adult. Maybe they were someone else’s mean girl in school and it is only that they are out of context for me that I am baffled by them. I compare them to my circle of friends and again, I fail to notice any differences in attractiveness or intelligence or education or income or neighborhood. If anything, they seem to fare worse than those women that I am closest to both locally and from afar. Is it then a symptom of insecurity? Is it the slight failure to keep up the the Jones’ that inspire such cattiness from otherwise lovely women who are grouped together to support one another? Are cliques, although perfectly natural and understandable, a necessity of all social interactions? But it’s not the cliquey nature of the interactions, but the seeming superiority of a particular group within the group that continues to baffle me.

Perhaps this is the result of observation and that to some other person, I was a “mean girl” once. If this is the case, my sincere, humble apologies. But somehow I doubt my book wormish, music loving, poor dancing, cultural embracing self would ever be cool enough to be a “mean girl.” And I can only hope my daughter will follow these every so nerdy footsteps. Good friends are the bunkers we have in this battlefield of female interaction. May her friends be as true and steadfast as mine.