Today I went to see Mean Girls with my daughter. I walked in expecting something light and entertaining, and walked out feeling like I’d watched a documentary about school life. The jokes landed, but what stayed with me was how accurately the musical captured the unwritten rules girls start following at this age: who belongs, who has power, and the quiet negotiations that happen in hallways and group chats, and at lunch tables. None of it felt exaggerated. The show just made it visible.
A few years ago, my daughter had already run into her own versions of what the show portrays. There were friendships that weren’t entirely genuine, and times when someone stayed close to her mostly to get closer to someone else. It was subtle, but it happened often enough that she began to recognize the pattern. She came out of it more discerning without turning cynical.
Things look different on the surface where she is now, with different groups, personalities, and ways of signaling who’s in. The structure underneath is the same. What surprises me is how she moves through it. She spends time in several circles and doesn’t let any one of them define her. She’s drawn to some people more than others, and when she explains why, her reasons are thoughtful. She isn’t chasing popularity or rejecting it. Mostly she watches, joins in, and makes up her own mind. I don’t think anyone could have taught her that directly.
Recently she told me certain behaviors really bother her. She called them “plasticky,” which made me smile, because I knew exactly what she meant: kindness put on for show, friendships made for strategy, interactions that feel polished and not real. She has strong opinions about it and likes people who are more straightforward. She also knows that if she’s too blunt she could get pushed out, so she holds back and chooses when to speak and when to stay quiet. She’s learning to read the room.
One small moment has stayed with me more than anything else. Earlier this year she had the chance to compete in a math competition. When I asked her about it, she told me not many students sign up because it’s considered “social suicide.” I asked why she would still do it, and she said, very simply, “I don’t care.”
Someone else might have heard indifference in that. To me it sounded clear. She understood how it might look and what it might cost her socially, and she decided to do it anyway, without letting the social rules make the decision for her.
During the musical, I kept thinking about how quickly we sort kids into roles: the mean girl, the outsider, the quiet one watching from the side. Real life is more fluid. The same child can be kind one moment, strategic the next, and unsure of herself underneath it all. My daughter hasn’t figured everything out.
As a parent, I’m tempted to step in, warn her, and put labels on certain kids or situations. More and more, though, I think my job is to help her make sense of what she already sees and give her words for it when she needs them. I want to stay close enough that she can talk things through with me and far enough back that the choices stay hers.