“Did you send me over here
to increase brand visibility or be liked?” “Honey I think
you can do both!” The Girlboss is everywhere. Popularized in 2014
by Nasty Gal founder Sophia Amoruso, the term “Girlboss” is often
used as a term of empowerment. It refers to confident,
take-charge women who pursue their own ambitions—
and who aren’t beholden to anyone else. But on screen, the Girlboss
is often portrayed as somewhere between
satire and villainy. “I need that listicle
on five empowering roles for women over 40
that would be better played by Jennifer Lawrence.” So how did we come
to love to hate her? While the Girlboss may be
a relatively new phenomenon, she has her roots in the many
“female boss” characters we’ve seen over the years. She’s a woman who is:
Tenacious and determined. “Took me five years
of night school but I got my degree
and I got it with honors.” Her ambition sometimes
makes her difficult. “Just another disappointing
useless male.” But this is because
she’s constantly aware that she has to play
a man’s game. “Do you think
I act like a man?” “I guess you have to, a little.” And she’s often forced
to choose between her career and her personal happiness. “Because I have two lives,
and I don't have time to enjoy either one of them." The Girlboss,
on the other hand, offers a moneyed,
more millennial spin on the female boss: She’s a product
of the social media era, and technology rules
her business and her personal life. “I'm happy to share my,
um, Google Cal with you, if you want to make actual plans.” She’s obsessed with her brand,
and she’s savvy about marketing it to her audience. “I'm not doing this
to make money. I'm doing this
to make connections with real women
and extend my personal brand as a real down-to-earth chica
who cares about real women.” She’s driven almost entirely by money—
even if it clashes with her feminist ideals. “Monetising feminism?” “Yes, exactly, and women
are made to feel so insecure, and each insecurity
is a new opportunity to make more money.” That’s because
she’s often unscrupulous, and doesn’t mind stepping
on other people to get what she wants. “I’m the one who created
this company from nothing. I’m the vision. I’m Nasty Gal.” Does the Girlboss
represent a modern, more empowered version
of the female boss? Or is she actually
a step backward? Here’s our Take on
the onscreen evolution of this archetype,
and why the Girlboss is fundamentally at odds
with true feminism. “If Angelica's ever gonna make it
in a male-dominated power structure, she's gotta eat, breathe,
drink, and sweat self-esteem!” If you’re new here,
be sure to subscribe and hit the bell to be notified
about all of our new videos.
“From this point on,
we are sophisticated, educated, successful career women.” Strong, empowered women
have been seen on screen since the advent of film. “This is my office.
I'm only interested in making automobiles here.
That's what you're being paid for. Is that plain?” “Yes. I guess it is.” “That'll be all.” They ruled the era
known as Pre-Code Hollywood, before the institution
of the Hays Code in 1934 laid out strict rules
for the way women should conduct themselves on screen. As Mick LaSalle
wrote in his 2001 book, Complicated Women:
Sex and Power in Pre-Code Hollywood, “Before the Code,
women on screen took lovers, held down professional positions
without apologizing for their self-sufficiency,
and in general acted the way many of us think women
acted only after 1968.” This kind of unapologetic,
take-charge woman can be found in the 1933 film Female,
where Ruth Chatterton plays Alison Drake,
a tough-talking CEO who has casual flings
with her male employees, and refuses to let love
get in the way of business. “I’m a busy woman.
I can’t be annoyed with jealous
and moody men about me.” “But I love you!” “That’s enough of that.” Although the film eventually
ends up bringing Alison to heel with marriage,
and sees her surrendering her company to her new husband,
it also mocks those societal demands, showing the performative lengths
Alison has to go to just to be properly humbled. “Gentle and feminine, eh?
Hm. So that’s what they want. We strive to please.” But by the very next year,
a new era had dawned on Hollywood. The Hays Code forbade characters
like Alison Drake, maintaining that films should reinforce that a woman’s place
is in the home. The few professional women in film
were always aware they were in a man’s world temporarily,
until they found their rightful place as a wife and mother. “You’re a newspaper man!” “That’s why I’m quitting.
I wanna go someplace where I can be a woman.” Work usually left them unhappy, “You buried your emotions
and all your painful memories and with them a little song
which expresses the fulfillment of love,
and proceeded to escape into a loveless world of work.” and turned them ‘unladylike’
in the process. “You dominated him,
as you attempted to dominate all men,
to force all men to accept you as superior to them.” “What’s the answer?” “Perhaps some man
that will dominate you.” This attitude prevailed on screen
until the 1980s, when the increasing numbers
of women in the workplace led to a parallel rise of movies
and TV shows celebrating them. “When you start snapping photos
of serious, successful businessmen in unzipped jumpsuits with wet lips,
straddling chairs, then we’ll talk.” The era of the Female Boss was reborn. Still, she wasn’t entirely free
of the sexual politics that kept her reined in. “Do you need any money?” “No, for god sake, Jim,
I make as much as you do.” “Is that true, Miles?” We can see this struggle illustrated
in Mike Nichols’ 1988 film Working Girl, which gives us two subtypes
of female boss. Sigourney Weaver’s Katharine
is the classic Boss Bitch. She’s determined to the point
of being ruthless, a woman with such
a carefully curated idea of herself that she often comes across
as unfeeling. “I think he's going
to pop the question. We're in the same city now,
I've indicated that I'm receptive to an offer,
I've cleared the month of June, and I am, after all, me.” She is constantly aware
that she’s operating in a man’s world, and she does it adversarially. "You know, you don't get anywhere
in this world by waiting for what you want to come to you.
You make it happen.” Katharine is contrasted against
Melanie Griffith’s Tess, a sweeter, more accessible,
more Feminine Boss. “You're the first woman I've seen
at one of these damn things that dresses like a woman,
not like a woman thinks a man would dress if he was a woman.” In Backlash: The Undeclared War
Against American Women, Susan Faludi’s pioneering book
on the de-radicalization of women in the 1980s, she writes that Tess, “Buries her intelligence
under a baby-doll exterior” and “succeeds in business only by…
relying on far more powerful businessmen to make the key moves in her ‘career’.” “If I can get Armbrister up here,
will Trask take the meeting?” Tess is a softer, less threatening vision
of the working woman that was made more palatable for an era when feminism
was under assault, diminished and derided by President Ronald Reagan
and conservative commentators like Phyllis Schlafly. “I think some women
like to blame sexism for their failures instead of
admitting they didn't try hard enough.” As Faludi notes,
many of the working girl films of this time period saw “‘women (...) set against women;
women's lives were framed as morality tales in which
the "good mother" wins and the independent woman
gets punished.’” We see this manifest
in how Working Girl pits Tess against Katherine. At first, Tess is excited
to have a female mentor. “I mean, she takes me seriously.
And I think it's because, and I know you hate it
when I say this, but I think it's because
she is a woman.” But they quickly become adversaries. Katherine steals Tess’s business idea. “It was my idea!
She stole it from me, I swear!” Tess steals Katherine’s job,
boyfriend, and life. “I'm an associate partner in Mergers
and Acquisitions at Petty-Marsh, and this woman is my secretary.” Yet the film takes pains to portray Katherine—
the less feminine Boss Bitch— as the true villain. “Now get your bony ass
out of my sight!” Working Girl looks at the way
women are held to a much higher standard
than their male colleagues, just to be taken seriously. “You're tough when it's warranted,
accommodating when you can be. I consider us a team Tess,
and as such we have a uniform: simple, elegant, impeccable.” It shows the many instances
of sexual harassment from sleazy men they’re forced to endure,
just to climb the corporate ladder. “Look, if I told you I was
just some secretary, you never would've
taken the meeting. Maybe you would've fed me
a few drinks and then tried to get me into the sack.” But it also misplaces the anger
these women should feel about their circumstances
by turning them on each other, reinforcing the idea
that there’s only room for ONE woman at the top. Other working woman films
of the era perpetuated the equally sexist idea that women
could be careerists or personally fulfilled— but not both. In 1987’s Baby Boom,
Diane Keaton’s J.C. Wiatt is a quintessential Boss Bitch
whose diligently maintained world is upended after she’s forced
to take care of a baby that’s been left to her
by a distant relative. “I can’t have a baby because
I have a 12:30 lunch meeting.” She’s all but quashed
every trace of her femininity in order to become successful. “You kind of remind me
of a bull terrier of some kind.” And the film shows us how this
has left her incapable of being maternal. “I’m not natural with kids,
I’m a.. Hah… I’m a management consultant.” Meanwhile, becoming a mother
tanks her career. In the end, she’s able to bounce back
only by relegating herself to a more palatable,
stereotypically feminine boss career: making artisanal baby food. Baby Boom is another movie that,
as Faludi says, shows “the incompatibility of career
and personal happiness” for women. “I told you, you can't have it all.
Nobody can.” This notion was taken
to an extreme in movies like Fatal Attraction, where Alex Forrest,
the high-powered editor played by Glenn Close,
is so desperate for love that she seduces a married man—
even insisting that she have his baby. “This is totally insane.” “I'm 36 years old. It may be
my last chance to have a child.” “Alex.”
Although Fatal Attraction
is obviously an exaggeration, portrayals of the Boss Bitch
have long shown her as cold and lonely— as an icy perfectionist
who can be downright cruel, “Is there some reason
that my coffee isn’t here? Has she died or something?” and whose success comes
with the price of a miserable personal life. “The dragon lady, career-obsessed
snow queen drives away another Mr. Priestly.” Meanwhile, the Feminine Boss
may be happier, but she’s often patronized, relegated to running stereotypically
‘female’ businesses as boutique owners, “Let’s fold scarves!” or fashion designers. "That cool breath of fresh air…
blowing through the tents at Fashion Week…
was the soon-to-be household name
of Melanie Carmichael.” Although we’ve obviously
come a long way since 1933, women bosses are often still portrayed
as forced to choose: between career and happiness,
between respect and likability, between being a
Feminine Boss or a Boss Bitch. Meanwhile, they’re still forced
to contend with a work environment that belittles them. “Part of my job is knowing
how to talk to women. [slowly] Let’s... be... rational... here.” And they’re still only shown
to be truly fulfilled by marriage. “Yeah! Show her
who’s boss, Andrew!” It’s little wonder that
there’s been a hunger for a new kind of female boss—
one who rejects this false dichotomy between the Boss Bitch
with the Feminine Boss, and gives it a 21st-century spin. “Kah-ching!” “Always looking out
for the bottom line.” “Aw, thank you!” Nasty Gal’s Sophia Amoruso
didn’t just popularize the term Girl Boss— she embodies it. “I am a girl, and that
shouldn’t be a bad thing.” In just five years, Amoruso went
from selling vintage clothes on eBay to running her very own online boutique
with a 100 million dollars-a-year turnover, founding the Girlboss Media company,
and even becoming the subject of a Netflix series based on her rise—
also titled Girlboss. “Lookin at a lotta Benjamins!” But with Amoruso’s success
came swift backlash: Nasty Gal was hit with lawsuits
alleging that it had stolen from female designers,
and that it had fired employees who were about
to enter maternity leave. The Girl Boss—the show,
and Amoruso’s concept— was decried almost instantly,
in the words of the New York Post, as a “feminist fraud.”
One of the main issues with the Girlboss version of feminism is that only a certain kind of woman
can become one. She’s aided by her privilege—
whether she realizes it or not. Like Justine, the Girlboss character
on Hulu’s Shrill, the average Girlboss is a white, upper middle class woman
who’s also conventionally attractive. “I was the youngest female CEO
of a Fortune 500 company. Women are having a moment!” She’s often had the financial support
of her family. “But, I’ll need some startup money.” As author Teresa L. Ebert has noted,
although feminism has opened up more positions for women
in the workplace, the women that take these positions
are generally well-off already, and they continue to serve
the interests of the “late-capitalist,
postmodern patriarchy.” “The only thing I like better
than corporate domination is corporate domination
with my number one girl!”
This makes the philosophy
the Girlboss preaches feel decidedly hypocritical. Although she’s happy to perpetuate
this patriarchy for her own success, the Girlboss hides behind
a facade of pseudofeminism. When Shrill’s Annie attends
a Girlboss rally, she realizes that— at hundreds of dollars per ticket—
this ostensibly inclusive, feminist gathering is only open to some women. “I know that WAHAM’s mission statement
is lifting every woman, but can you really do that
if the price point is so inaccessible?” She also discovers how other Girlbosses
have hijacked feminist principles— purporting to sell women
self-confidence, while simultaneously preying
on their insecurities. “You’ll have the confidence
of a woman who’s disgusting leg skin is covered up!” This is the ugly truth
of the #Girlboss’s success: She gets ahead precisely because
she doesn’t care about other people, gladly stepping on other women
just to get ahead. “Get me a new pair.
Actually, let me try those on.” “But these are my favorite jeans,
I've had them since high school.” Perfect, so they're already broken in!” To the Girlboss, this includes
the women who helped her along the way— even her closest friends. “I thought you, as my friend,
would want me, your friend, to be part of Nasty Gal.” “Everything you do
could be done by an intern.” The Girlboss largely reduces
feminism to branding. “You’re worth it!
Orgasms are self care!” The Girlboss phenomenon
is built on empty jargon and self-congratulation. “We just wanted
to give back to the community of New York female entrepreneurs
and give you amazing businesswomen a chance to connect
and talk about how to synergize and mobilize.” This is because
being a Girlboss is largely performative:
She’s a product of an era driven by social media,
where snappy hashtags, constant self-promotion,
and image consciousness are all keys to her success. “They’re total visionaries,
floor to ceiling. Like, basically they do nothing
and achieve everything, and I’m all about that!”
The Girlboss is essentially selling feminism. “Yeah it’s skincare,
but it promotes a total lifestyle. Self sufficiency,
with an acknowledgement of human need.
That’s Flam.” And she takes
the Boss Bitch stereotype of being forced to choose
work over happiness to its opposite extreme:
The Girlboss appears to effortlessly juggle both
her personal life and a career, because her life is posed
and scrubbed for social media perfection. The brand of Girlboss feminism,
is, as Pajiba’s Kayleigh Donaldson says, “toxic and exploitative
and shallow as all hell, but it’s also essentially
the only mainstream image of feminism that is sold to us.” “Whether it’s how to rock
a romper at a work event, or who you should be voting for,
a WEMUN woman is the person to ask.” “Anything left of the center
is deemed ‘too much,’” Donaldson continues, “and the women who
loudly fight for more — who are, not coincidentally,
often women of color — are dismissed as going ‘too far’.” “Believe me, you know I know
how to keep my mouth shut and be the original no drama girl,
but he can't fire you, and I wanna call bullshit.” This lack of intersectionality
is but one of the many reasons the Girlboss has been derided
as not just post-feminist, but anti-feminist. “Girlboss rhetoric often works
to propagate sexism, racism, and class elitism,
among other forms of oppression,” Emma Maguire writes
for The Conversation. “It’s important to remember
that girlbossing isn’t feminism…. it’s capitalism.” And the hollowness of its messaging
only exposes what still needs to be done to create true equality
in the workplace. “Men don’t need to be
like constantly told that they’re powerful
because they’re in power. And women, I mean,
we’re like screaming in huge pink letters
that we’re powerful just to try and convince ourselves.” All women face
unique struggles at work, regardless of their place
in the hierarchy. When they don’t fit
the patriarchy-approved mold, they’re often framed
not as a Boss Bitch— but just a regular bitch. “When I am assertive, I’m a bitch.
When a man is assertive, he’s a boss.” “Bossed up.” “He bossed up!” They’re forced into a structure
that’s been designed by and for men and as such,
their roles are restricted to these very narrowly defined caricatures. Is it possible to be a feminist
in the business world without being slandered—
or without resorting to empty, Girlboss sloganeering? “What’s the hashtag gonna be:
Boss Bitch or Bitch Boss?” It’s a difficult question, because,
as Dr. Nicole Aschoff has argued, the capitalist structure
of the workplace is essentially incompatible with true feminism. “Is women’s liberation
getting the corner office, or at least a genuine chance
to get the corner office? Or do we believe that
women’s liberation is the ability for all people
to have justice, dignity, and security?” True feminism demands equality for all,
and a dismantling of the hierarchy that’s kept women and
other marginalized groups in their place— the very sort of exploitation
that capitalism demands. “Looks like you have your first task.
Luckily, America’s cheapest labour force is just down the hill.” Though we may not be able
to dismantle capitalism, we can draw inspiration
from onscreen boss women who try to reshape
their workplaces from within. Leslie Knope actively works
toward flattening the structure of the Parks and Recreation office
and genuinely cares about her teammates. “We do it because we get
the chance to work hard at work worth doing,
alongside a team of people we love.” This enables her to empower them,
giving them opportunities that help them to make successes of themselves
both at work and in their personal lives. “I am so proud of you.
Now stand next to the screen and think about all the
strong female role models in your life.” Another female boss
that breaks the mold is Lisa in Support the Girls. “You’re the best manager
I’ve ever had, by far.” Lisa is the manager of
a Hooters-style restaurant who puts the women
who work for her first, always. “We’re all family.” From bailing her waitresses out of jail
to babysitting their children, she blurs the boundary
between boss and friend, making her employees feel
supported and cared for. “Do you like working here?” “I like working with you.” Although she’s a beloved boss,
the owner of her restaurant ends up firing her, perhaps because
the traditionally ‘female’ traits, of gentleness, kindness
and attention to detail, are often overlooked. However, she shows us how
they can create a more collaborative working atmosphere
that doesn’t prioritize one person, but works with everyone to create
a better environment for everyone. It’s not for nothing that when Lisa goes,
the other women follow her lead— right out the door. The Girlboss marked an evolution
from those female bosses of the 1980s and ‘90s. She’s seemingly a more positive,
independent update on a character that was largely pitted against
men in the workplace, and against other women. But the women’s movement
isn’t just about getting better jobs, higher pay, or a seat at the table.
It’s much more inclusive, more focused on changing the structures
that have kept women— and all marginalized groups—
beholden to them. The Girlboss, with her empty rhetoric,
self-centered focus, and purely capitalist drive
simply doesn’t reflect those principles. You can still be a powerful woman
who strives to get ahead in business, and celebrate being a boss,
but you must be prepared to challenge the systems
you’re working within. As Audre Lorde said, “The master’s tools will never
dismantle the master’s house.” We need female bosses
who don’t just rule, but who want to change the rules. “For one moment, enjoy the fact
that you provided a service for people. Not a cut. A service.”
