It’s a familiar scenario at PTA meetings, playgroups, and online forums:
- “Did you see what she did?”
- “Can you believe she said that? What a nightmare.”
- “I’d never wear that. She looks ridiculous!”
And let’s be honest, we’ve all been there. If you claim you’ve never criticized another woman when she falters or faces public scrutiny, you’re not being truthful. You might think you’re above it all, but deep down, we all know you’ve participated in this behavior.
Sure, you may cherish your friends, but have you ever mocked a female celebrity or judged another mother’s parenting style? Perhaps you’ve dissected someone’s appearance or jumped to conclusions based on a headline. Admit it. I’ll give you a moment.
Ladies, we ought to feel ashamed. Seriously. This needs to stop.
We often talk about the importance of supporting one another professionally, tossing around phrases like, “I’m here for you,” and “I’ve got your back.” Yet, too often, we’re just waiting for someone to slip up. When another mom or colleague falters, we jump at the chance to gossip and tear her down, because let’s face it: that’s how many of us react.
Every day, women fail each other. It’s as if we’re all on standby, just waiting for another mom to misstep so we can feel superior about our own parenting choices. When we hear about a mother who botches a PTA event or a coworker who misses a crucial deadline, we’re quick to judge, either joining in the criticism or sitting back with a sense of smugness. We take delight in another woman’s misfortunes, and we all know that one person who sidles up to you at a school event to share the latest gossip about “what so-and-so did…”
I observe this behavior in social media groups, at gatherings, and on playgrounds. Women often treat one another poorly, and it’s disheartening. We criticize celebrity mothers (and no, they don’t “ask for it” by being famous) while sipping wine at girls’ night, chuckling as a friend recounts another woman’s embarrassing moment at her office party.
We find it amusing to undermine one another. Even worse, we think it’s acceptable to demean another woman for our self-esteem boost.
I regret to admit I’m just as guilty. I’m not looking down my nose at anyone; I’m pointing the finger at myself as well.
This past weekend, I watched in disbelief as Mariah Carey faced a disastrous performance in front of millions. With the world watching, she struggled with technical issues, flubbed her lyrics, and experienced what was undoubtedly one of her most humiliating moments. It was painful to witness.
My initial response? I made a joke about Mariah on my personal Facebook page. Soon, my friends and I were having a laugh at her expense, oblivious to the fact that she was suffering in real-time.
And I wasn’t alone. The internet thrives on tearing down women, especially those in the public eye. Comments poured in, critiquing her talent, appearance, and even labeling her as a diva. The reviews of her performance were harsh, but much of the criticism fixated on her looks. Yes, celebrities know they will face scrutiny, but we can do better than what we collectively did to Mariah Carey online. We can treat each other with more respect.
At the end of the day, I can’t sing like Mariah, and neither can you. Your shower high notes? Great, but they don’t compare. Mariah is a resilient woman who will rise above this, and we all can relate to that feeling of embarrassment.
Every one of us makes mistakes—believe me, I make at least 15 each day before breakfast. When I stumble, I feel the weight of shame. I can hold myself accountable without a group of women piling on. I’ve faced ridicule on social media and have been the subject of gossip more times than I care to admit. It stings.
But while I’ve managed to keep my blunders within my social circle, Mariah had to confront hers on a global stage, and we, as women, let her flounder. We shared, we tweeted, we posted, and we laughed. We allowed a hardworking, accomplished woman to struggle while we pointed fingers. This will continue the next time a female celebrity falters, reinforcing the stereotype that women are unsupportive and cruel to each other.
So, Mariah, keep your head high, because I’m cheering for you. I regret joining the “Mariah’s Career is Over” train, and I vow to resist the urge to mock any woman—celebrity or not—moving forward. You’re not defined by your mistakes, and as for that nude bodysuit? I admire anyone brave enough to wear that in front of billions. You go, girl.
Ladies, we face enough challenges without dragging each other down. Let’s prioritize supporting one another in the coming year. Game on.