My daughter, Mia, is currently in the seventh grade at a cozy private school where most of her classmates have been friends since kindergarten. While the atmosphere isn’t overtly hostile, the subtle jabs and snide remarks among the girls can be quite disheartening. At the start of the school year, I began to hear Mia share stories about some of the comments floating around the classroom, often directed at one another. They go something like this:
- “Why are you wearing those leggings?”
- “What did you do with your hair? Just, no.”
- “What is that smell? Don’t you use deodorant? Gross.”
These remarks, delivered in a mocking tone and perfectly audible to everyone nearby—whether in class, during hallway transitions, or huddled together at lunch—are painful enough. What truly breaks my heart is that Mia, who has occasionally been on the receiving end of these thoughtless comments, still considers some of these girls her friends.
This brings me to a crucial question: Do our daughters truly understand what it means to be a friend?
I reflect on when Mia was younger, and I facilitated her playdates with other little girls. When squabbles arose over toys, I stepped in to help them take turns. If hurt feelings surfaced, we would discuss how to express ourselves kindly. We practiced the art of sharing, and after a couple of hours of play (and a bowl of Goldfish), the girls left with smiles and hugs. Simple and sweet.
Now, however, Mia and her friends don’t have playdates; they hang out. They request rides to trendy cafes and retreat to her bedroom, giggling and whispering. Their lives unfold on Instagram, Snapchat, and through a flurry of texts filled with emojis and abbreviations. As a parent, I find myself mostly on the sidelines—available yet seldom consulted. This distance makes it harder for me to help her navigate friendships, especially during a time when she needs it the most.
Middle school brings a whirlwind of changes and challenges: acne, body changes, crushes, dances, social media pressures, and a heavier academic load. It’s a lot for any girl to handle. At home, Mia receives plenty of love and structure, but I can see she is increasingly looking to her peers for guidance as she tries to figure out who she is. The lack of kindness observed among the girls in her class signals that it might be time for me to step back into their world—even if it’s awkward or unwelcome.
Teaching our daughters the importance of standing against bullying and speaking up when they see unkindness is just the beginning. We must go further and instill the value of uplifting one another every day. A true friend offers encouragement rather than succumbing to jealousy. She opts for positivity over negativity, gently addressing issues privately instead of calling someone out publicly. True friendship thrives on listening with an open heart, fostering healthy competition, and celebrating each other’s unique qualities.
I recognize that this behavior isn’t unusual for their age, but that doesn’t excuse it. I know Mia isn’t perfect and has likely said thoughtless things herself. While I don’t expect her to be best friends with everyone, I do want her to refrain from being unkind. If she can’t say something nice, I encourage her to stay silent. What I want her to grasp is how to be a genuine friend, recognize true friendship in others, and step away from those who undermine her confidence.
Girls don’t need to be each other’s worst critics; there are plenty of people out there who will do that for them. Instead, I want to inspire Mia and her friends to be each other’s biggest supporters, embracing the magic of friendship while starting from a place of compassion. If you want to learn more about navigating these challenges, check out this excellent resource on IVF and other helpful pregnancy topics.
In summary, instilling the principles of kindness and support among our daughters is essential. We must encourage them to create a culture of compassion and friendship, where they uplift each other rather than tearing each other down.