From Good Girl to Whole Woman: Unlearning a Lifetime of Conditioning

 I was a "good girl" long before I knew what it meant. I didn't cause trouble. I tried not to take up space (this is a big one). I learned how to read the room and adjust my actions and words accordingly. I learned how to be agreeable, helpful, and easy to manage. As an adolescent, adults often praised me for being responsible and polite. I was described as being mature for my age. But what most don't say—is that being "good" often means being quiet. I realize now that I wasn't naturally low-maintenance. I was trained.

"Good girl" conditioning (actually grooming, if we are being honest) isn't about manners. It's ultimately about compliance. It is subtle and consistent messaging, rooted in hegemonic patriarchy, that teaches girls their worth is tied to how palatable they are to others, especially men. Good girls don't argue, they're not loud, and they don't ask for too much. From a young age, many girls learn that approval equals safety. We are rewarded for being helpful, self sacrificing, and emotionally attuned to everyone else in the room. We are taught how to be wanted before we are taught how to want. Once that lesson is absorbed, it's hard to shake. 

Good girl grooming doesn't go away when we grow up; it just gets better at disguising itself. 

It looks like saying yes when your body is screaming no.

It looks like overexplaining boundaries to make them feel less offensive to others.

It looks like swallowing anger because you don't want to be seen as dramatic, difficult, or emotional.

It looks like working harder than necessary, loving harder than is returned, and apologizing for things that were never your fault. 

In professional spaces, the good girl avoids conflict and quietly takes on extra work. In relationships, she prioritizes harmony over honesty. In friendships, she becomes the emotional anchor, even when she's drowning herself. 

The work praises this version of women, but praise doesn't make it sustainable.

There's always a cost. The cost of being a good girl is rarely visible from the outside, but is deeply felt on the inside. It shows up in burnout, resentment, and low-grade exhaustion that never quite lifts. It shows up as a vague sense of losing yourself, of not knowing what you actually want because you've spent a lifetime managing what everyone else needs. It shows up as anger turned inward because expressing it outward never felt like an option. 

This isn't a personal failing—it's a predictable outcome of a system that benefits from women who self-silence.

Patriarchal structures reward compliance. They function best when women are accommodating, grateful, and endlessly giving. The good girl is not an accident; she is a feature. 

Unlearning is not pretty—ask me, I know! Unlearning good girl conditioning is often framed as empowerment, but in practice, it can feel deeply uncomfortable. It means disappointing people who benefit from your silence. It means being misunderstood. It means letting go of the belief that being liked is the same as being safe. 

Unlearning is scary.

It looks like setting boundaries without padding them with apologies. It looks like choosing rest without justifying it. When I see my pregnant daughter choose rest over the dishes or laundry, I am so proud, I think she gets it in a way I never did at her age, and at the same time, so sad. Sad for my younger self, who never felt like I had permission.

Unlearning looks like allowing yourself to take up space without shrinking to make others comfortable. This is the hardest part for me. I’ve spent my life making myself small—softening my needs, dulling my wants, minimizing my presence—because I believed that the less I required, the easier I would be to love. It's a quiet, insidious belief that trains women to disappear voluntarily.

From a feminist perspective, unlearning the good girl is an act of resistance. It challenges the expectation that women exist to soothe, support, and serve at their own expense. It rejects the idea that worth is earned through likability or sacrifice. 

I've been trying to unlearn good girl for a number of years, and the answers don't arrive all at once. It is a slow, slow process, and at my age, one that I might never complete. But every time I choose authenticity over approval, the grip of that conditioning loosens just a little bit.  

Feminism (and I) asks a radical question: Who would you be if you were not managing other people's comfort?