TikTok Is Obsessed with the Pick-Me Girl—Unfortunately, I Used to Be One

In November, Billie Eilish accepted an award at a ceremony honoring Variety’s Power of Women. "It's really hard to be a woman out here guys," she said. "I have never felt truly like a woman. And I've spent a lot of my life not feeling like I fit in to being a woman." The then-21-year-old said, "For a couple years, because of that insecurity, I became almost like very 'pick me' about it and I'd be like, 'Well, I'm not like other girls 'cause I don't do this and this, and I've grown to be very resentful of that period of time because I'm so much more interested in being like other girls, because other girls are f--king tight and I love women." Eilish’s statement really landed with me, since she was referencing the pick-me girl syndrome, social media shorthand for an internal misogyny that I’m in recovery from—and you might want to be, too.

According to the cultural studies journal Alphabet (in a 2022 article that analyzed TikTok videos tagged #pickmegirl), the phrase “can be defined as a social media phenomenon dominated by women who always consider that they are the best in any kind of condition. As they are feeling perfect, they easily hate, insult, and compete with other women.” Its origin stems from a speech given by Meredith on Grey’s Anatomy asking Derek McDreamy to leave his wife and “Pick me. Choose me. Love me.” That episode aired nearly 20 years ago; since then, the message has had cultural echoes both sweet (Taylor Swift in 2009’s “You Belong with Me” song and accompanying romcom video) and sinister (notably 2014’s Amy Dunne “Cool Girl” soliloquy in revenge thriller Gone Girl ). It’s not a compliment to be a pick-me girl, but it’s a pretty understandable personality tendency to fall into.

Basically, (and I say this from a place of love for all), being a “pick-me girl” is a dick move. Literally—because when you’re cutting down other women in order to make yourself look better, you are being sexist and discriminatory. “Pick-Me Girlism” is internalized misogyny, according to a paper written by social scientists in the Journal of Integrated Social Sciences. And here’s the twist: Not only is it anti-woman to be a “pick me girl” (for example, to say “I’m not like the other girls, I like to sit next to you and [insert name of his hobby here]”), but also it’s sexist to call out another woman for being a pick-me girl. As one Redditor writes, “If a boy is annoying he’s just annoying boy. But if a girl’s annoying now she’s a “pick me”—this term is used to turn women against each other and attack young girls for being themselves.”

Look at it this way: Any movement that’s going to waste its energies on internecine battles is going to fail. Power flows from a number of people all pulling together, not fighting amongst themselves. Internalized sexism is a way for institutional power to maintain the status quo, to keep women criticizing each other and fighting over some perception of limited resources, rather than banding together for a common good. So, while you may not like the pick-me girl, I’m here to suggest what she needs is not so much criticism as consciousness-raising. As a former pick-me girl, that’s what I needed.

I was accused of being a pick-me girl—incorrectly—before the term was invented. I remember being in fifth grade in front of a bookshelf in the library, trying to reach up to get a book about dinosaurs. Just as I pulled it down, I heard a boy from my class beside me “Come on—you don’t really like dinosaurs, you just want to be near the boys, they are the ones who like dinosaurs.” I was shocked—it had never occurred to me to tailor my interests to what the boys liked, although now that he mentioned it, I noticed there were a handful of boys over in the prehistory section where we stood. I had nothing to say…how do you explain to someone operating on such a suspicious level that you really do think dinosaurs are cool?

“If a boy is annoying he’s just annoying boy. But if a girl’s annoying now she’s a “pick me”—this term is used to turn women against each other and attack young girls for being themselves.”

According to adolescent psychologist Mary Pipher I was right on schedule. In her bestselling book Reviving Ophelia: Saving the Selves of Adolescent Girls, Pipher writes that between the ages of 11 and 14, U.S. girls in the U.S. become particularly vulnerable to the internalization of sexism. So though I don’t remember making a conscious decision to throw in my lot with the patriarchy as a tween, I did pick up what my Southern girlhood was putting down, ethics including a) genteel womanhood is achieved through covert manipulation rather than straightforward leadership; b) value is measured in attractiveness to men and c) it’s great to be smart, but you don’t want to be too smart and make trouble. So I became a good ole girl. But as I spent high school and the beginning of college shouldering the multiple burdens of investigation (hmm, what do guys like, anyway?), assessment, masking (sure, I love tequila shots!) and hitting my marks as a happy heterosexist striver, I noticed the price paid was too high. I was doing all this work and yet not satisfied.

Once I stopped trying so hard to have the right answer, the attractive stance, the best advantage over the other girls, I noticed I was less stressed out all the time.

I gave up. You win, other women who I can’t convincingly keep selling myself against. You win, guys who I think want x, and knock myself trying to be x, only to find out that x is a drag. I surrendered to the sound, as Phoebe Bridgers sings. Not knowing any better way of honest connection despite a decade of therapy, I took a trust fall into the abyss of human relationships. I can’t do it anymore, you guys. As I doubled down on therapy, I made a pact with myself to simply suit up and show up for work, for family and sit the whole range of human-relations stuff out.

And then, the funniest things happened. Once I stopped trying so hard to have the right answer, the attractive stance, the best advantage over the other girls, I noticed I was less stressed out all the time. I had all this extra time not strategizing how to be better than the other reindeer. I spent that time and energy alone, exploring the world as an interesting place, regardless of who might think me interesting. After a while, too, I started realizing that the shadowy figures in my surroundings were separate people. Men and women who also had depth and weight and feelings, and who existed not to be manipulated but respected, potentially enjoyed and even maybe helped by me. Instead of competing with those cool, funny, vivid women I’d been raised to compete against, I became their friends.

Today when I see a woman tearing another woman down to make herself look better, I skip the shaming and show her some kindness.

I continue to make a conscious choice to live in a world defined by opportunity not scarcity, one in which I don’t need to work to garner someone’s admiration. Today when I see a woman tearing another woman down to make herself look better, I skip the shaming and show her some kindness. I ask how her day is going, look her straight in the eye and smile, draw her into a conversation with another woman. It’s a real game-changer, being a hype woman. Try it yourself: Find the woman radiating aggressive insecurity at your next social event or online space. She could be a cliquey sorority sister, your competitive in-law, the  braggart dinner party guest. Walk up to her, say hello and ask her friendly questions. Listen to her answers. Challenge yourself to bring another pick-me girl in from the wild.