Last Friday, I stepped out of the shower to hear a crowd of stylish girls dissecting a man’s Instagram: “Is that friend hand placement, or are they dating?” 

Walking to my room, I heard a girl on the phone muse, “I don’t know if he’s looking for commitment…” 

That same night, curiosity bested me, and I unfortunately downloaded the cesspool that is Fizz. Countless top posts echoed, “Guys, do you actually like it when girls…,” “What do I do if a guy says…,” and the like.

Though commonplace, it still strikes me that among girls at Boston College, men are a dominant—perhaps the dominant—subject of conversation, even in their absence. How many conversations between women occur without mentioning a man?

On one hand, I get it. Give a crowd of teenagers near-complete independence for the first time, pair it with countless stories of meeting one’s soulmate in college and a lovesick media culture that shows couples content ad nauseam—it’s only natural that romance would become our central focus.

Indeed, perhaps all of BC ought to decenter dating, but that isn’t my point. I’m specifically concerned with young women, who tend to prioritize it more—unsurprisingly, given that authority and the media socialize us to center men from the start. 

In fairy tales and Disney movies, the prince drives the plot. Barbies came with wedding dresses. Parents and friends told us to take boys’ teasing and catcalls as compliments. When making choices about our bodies, doctors told us to consider our future husbands. Thus, we learned that we were valuable only in relation to men who want us.

This frames boy talk as an easy way to bond. When we talk about romance, we can be confident that others will find it “juicy” and want to engage, yet discussing hobbies or ambitions doesn’t carry the same guarantee. 

Furthermore, boy talk can send the signal, “I care about the same things as you,” acting as a cheat code to girly bonding. Plus, it’s addictive: In a world that primes us to see male desire as the ultimate validation, it engenders a thrilling dopamine rush.

Boy talk, however, is as toxic as it is exciting. It makes us easy targets for exploitative men—our willingness to devote our attention to them gives them dangerous power over us. It also trains us to reduce our potential. By presenting our romantic role as the most interesting thing about us, we reinforce the subconscious belief that the rest of our identities matter less.

Most importantly, it undermines sisterhood in myriad ways. It fragments us by isolating anyone who doesn’t happen to care for romance or men. (In large groups of girls, I’ve felt achingly lonely watching them swoon over men I find uninteresting at best.) 

It encourages us to date men who hurt women, because his approval matters more than her experience. It grooms us to see each other as competitors for male attention, not collaborators, coworkers, or confidantes. And when our conversations become less about us and more about him, we adjust our energy accordingly, drafting the perfect reply to him instead of reaching out to one another.

Talking about men at the expense of bonding with women makes us complicit in the very systems that keep us oppressed in the first place.

I’m well aware that I sound like a killjoy. But when President Donald Trump bulldozes our bodily autonomy, women remain dangerously underrepresented in science and government, and men violate us more than ever, it is that deep.

I’m also aware that critiques of feminine male-centeredness easily resemble the strawman of “Girls are so ditzy and shallow!” To be clear, I’m saying the exact opposite: I believe our obsession with boys is a disservice to how interesting, capable, and intelligent we are. 

Lastly, I’m aware that the desire for connection is human. I don’t seek to discourage romance. I simply believe it ought to be a nice-to-have bonus, not the sun around which your life orbits. If you’re picking your outfits based on what he likes or making “girlfriend” a core tenet of your personality, it’s time to shift your center of gravity.

So, how do we decenter men?

It starts with conversations passing the real-life Bechdel Test. Forget whether Jack/Matt/Ethan/Lucas texted you back—what’s the last movie that made you cry? What excites you about your future, or scares you? What makes you homesick? What makes you angry? And if you crave good old-fashioned girly bonding, there are countless ways to achieve it without involving men. Paint your nails! Go shopping! Plan outfits!

When we shift how we connect, our energy follows. The half hour you were going to spend sifting through his reposts? Spend it buying a sweet treat, or calling your mom, sister, grandmother, or hometown best friend, or working on that hobby you forgot about. Let’s pour the effort we dedicate to men into ourselves and one another.

Most of all, remember: Your friends and yourself will show up for you when no man ever will. 

You are your own soulmate. You are a student at a top university amid a turning point for women’s progress. You are part of a global sisterhood of girls and women who have struggled and suffered alongside you, standing on the shoulders of the women who fought before you. You are about to become the heroine of your own story—and he is just some guy.