There’s a very specific kind of conversation women have sometimes that always leaves me feeling… unsettled afterwards.
Not because it’s loud.
Not because it’s aggressive.
But because it’s so casually mean.
The kind where another woman becomes the topic of discussion for absolutely no reason other than the fact that she exists publicly.
Earlier this week, I was in a conversation with someone who brought up a woman we both know. She had posted her friend online and called her her “best friend.” Sweet, harmless, normal.
But instead of simply seeing it for what it was, the conversation immediately turned into analysis.
“Well… have you noticed the other one never posts her back?”
“…And she’s never called her her best friend.”
I just blinked.
Okay… and?
I genuinely did not understand why this was supposed to be some shocking revelation. Or why another woman’s friendship suddenly became a case study for hidden humiliation, imbalance, embarrassment, or whatever else people were trying to imply.
And honestly? I think moments like this reveal something bigger about the way some women have been conditioned to interact with other women.
We are constantly searching for cracks.
Tiny little openings.
Something “off.”
Something unequal.
Something we can quietly laugh at.
“She likes her more than she likes her.”
“She posted first.”
“She comments more.”
“She’s more invested.”
“She seems desperate.”
Please.
What are we doing?
At what point did womanhood become one long surveillance project?
And maybe this is an unpopular opinion, but I actually think people are allowed to experience relationships differently.
You can consider someone your closest friend while they simply consider you a dear friend.
You can love loudly while another person loves quietly.
You can post people online while they barely post at all.
None of these things automatically mean rejection, humiliation, or imbalance.
Human relationships are not math equations.
Some people are expressive.
Some people are private.
Some people struggle with public affection.
Some people don’t even think to post.
Some people are better in person than online.
And sometimes people simply feel things at different depths without it needing to become a public scandal.
That doesn’t make the connection fake.
I think what bothered me most about that conversation was not even the comment itself. It was the fascination behind it. The excitement people sometimes have when they think they’ve discovered a way another woman might secretly be “losing.”
Because if we are being honest, a lot of female conversations are unfortunately built around subtle humiliation. Not direct cruelty. Subtle cruelty. The kind wrapped in concern, observation, “just noticing,” or fake curiosity.
And I wish we talked about that more.
Some women genuinely enjoy finding little ways to humble other women. Especially happy women. Especially soft women. Especially women who are openly loving, expressive, hopeful, trusting, or joyful.
There’s almost this urge to go:
“See? She’s not loved as much as she thinks.”
“See? It’s not reciprocated.”
“See? She cares more.”
Why?
Why are we so uncomfortable letting women simply experience joy without auditing it?
I don’t know when we became so committed to overanalyzing each other instead of protecting each other.
Because personally? I cannot imagine sitting with my friends and spending our time dissecting whether another woman’s best friend posted her enough times this year.
There is simply too much life happening.
Bills. Husbands. Healing. Children. Work stress. Dreams. God. Grocery prices. Burnout. Hormones. Trying to drink enough water. Trying not to lose your mind. Trying to remember where you put your keys for the third time that day.
You mean to tell me with all of this going on, we still have the emotional energy to conduct friendship investigations?
No.
And maybe that’s why I’ve become so intentional about refusing to make women the entertainment in my conversations.
Not because women are perfect.
Not because discernment isn’t necessary.
But because constantly bonding over tearing apart another woman’s life, relationships, body, marriage, personality, or social interactions does something ugly to us over time.
It trains us to look at women through suspicious eyes instead of compassionate ones.
And the scary part is that eventually, it becomes automatic.
You stop seeing women as humans and start seeing them as performances to critique.
Who posted who.
Who unfollowed who.
Who looked unhappy in a picture.
Who smiled too hard.
Who commented too quickly.
Who didn’t repost the birthday story.
It’s exhausting.
And honestly? A lot of it is deeply rooted in competition.
Some women cannot process another woman’s happiness without immediately searching for evidence that it’s incomplete.
But maturity teaches you something beautiful:
not every imbalance is a tragedy.
Sometimes people simply love differently.
And also ( this may shock some people ) it is actually okay if you love someone more openly than they love you publicly.
That does not automatically make you foolish.
I think we need to stop teaching women that vulnerability is embarrassing.
If you call someone your best friend and they never use that exact title back… okay. Life moves on. The earth remains standing. Your worth has not collapsed.
Not every relationship needs matching captions, matching energy, matching aesthetics, matching public displays, matching personalities, matching anything.
Real life is far more nuanced than that.
And maybe we would all breathe a little easier if we stopped trying to measure every human connection like it’s a competition scoreboard.
Maybe we would become softer. Kinder. Lighter.
Maybe we would finally free ourselves from the exhausting need to constantly determine who is winning and who is losing among women.
Because sisterhood was never supposed to feel like a courtroom.
