The surprising reality of how teenage girls still define themselves

The surprising reality of how teenage girls still define themselves

A bright felt-tip sign hangs on the door of a private room, boldly stating “GIRLS ONLY” and “Boy’s don’t Eneter!” [sic], with a playful addition: “don’t worry boys!”. The notice is adorned with vibrant hearts and stars. When I entered the DRMZ youth club in Carmarthen, Wales, a dozen girls were already engaged in a spirited card game at a large round table. Laughter and chatter filled the air, and a pizza order was swiftly placed. This visit formed part of my Radio 4 series *About The Girls*, in which I spoke to roughly 150 girls, the majority aged between 13 and 17. The conversation at that table mirrored many of the discussions I had during the series.

These young women were sharp, witty, and insightful, offering uplifting perspectives on their lives. They spoke passionately about their ambitions (“I would like to have a fridge that you can have a vase in… And be a doctor!”), their bond with friends (“I can tell her anything”), and their awareness of familial responsibilities (“I go to town to top up my Nan’s electric. I love looking after her.”). The dialogue shifted fluidly between the card game, school dramas, teachers they admired or disliked, social media trends, and debates over whether there were enough Cheese Feast slices for everyone. There were, indeed.

This project follows my earlier series *About The Boys*, where I engaged with teenage boys across the UK. Amid the backdrop of the pandemic, the #MeToo movement, and the attention on Andrew Tate, I sought to understand their views. The girls proved equally engaging: reflective, eloquent, and courageous. Repeating the exercise with them felt like a natural progression. Coincidentally, the Epstein files were released as I prepared to visit Carmarthen, lending an added sense of urgency to the work.

What I hadn’t anticipated was the recurring theme that emerged across all my conversations: teenage girls continue to frame themselves through the prism of boys. Remarkably, they often recognize this tendency. When I posed the question, “What is it really like to be a girl in 2025/26? Tell me the truth, don’t be polite!”, the responses almost always began with “Well boys think/say/want/feel…”. These exchanges evoked a surreal, real-world version of the Bechdel Test—a benchmark for measuring female representation in films. To pass, a film must feature at least two named women discussing something unrelated to men. None of my interviews met that criterion.

“Growing up as a girl,” said one, “so much of that is about how boys are behaving around you and what they’re doing to you. So there isn’t really a way to talk about that without mentioning boys… and it is frustrating.”

Why does this dynamic endure? The girls I met spoke fluently about the weight of gendered expectations, the sway of boys in school settings, and the relentless portrayal of feminine “perfection” on social media. They also hinted at a deeper insight: girls often learn to adjust their behavior to safely navigate the world. As they left, Alison Harbor, the youth centre manager, shared her observations. “The boys at the club are quite vocal,” she noted, “and confident in expressing their opinions. Well today, the girls have been the same! My concern is that they usually internalise their struggles…”

Despite their openness, the irony was striking. Most of the girls described how their conduct changes in the presence of boys. They mentioned avoiding perceptions of being “too much”, “too loud”, or “weird”, while aiming to be seen as “a beg” (someone seeking attention). They saw boys as loud and funny but insisted girls should not be. They spoke of striving to “take up less space” and “stay smaller and quieter” in mixed groups. Teachers, too, noted girls “keeping their heads down” and “not making a fuss”, or “flying below the radar”.