With 2024 drawing to a close, true gender equality remains a distant goal. Still, this year saw a lot of strong, smart and intelligent women making strides in male-dominated fields such as science, technology, and engineering. However, in a slightly more unexpected turn, creators on TikTok are highlighting women’s accomplishments in another arena often dominated by male behaviour: being a player.
For decades now, men have pillaged the dating market, leaving havoc and terms like ghosting, breadcrumbing, and love bombing in their wake. But now, women are flipping the script, using TikTok to call out these behaviours or presenting their mastery of them, effectively subverting traditional gender dynamics.
In a nutshell, the ‘women in male fields’ trend is about women mimicking the toxic and manipulative behaviour of men to highlight their own mistreatment. The posts are cleverly set to a sped-up version of Nicki Minaj’s ‘Anaconda’—a song choice that feels unintentionally brilliant, if you ask me. The track itself is a subversion of Sir Mix-a-Lot’s ‘Baby Got Back’. While the original hit objectifies women with larger derrières, Minaj reclaims and parodies this male fascination with her body, turning her buttocks into a source of empowerment and commercial leverage.
Similarly, this trend adds satirical and feminist undertones to traditionally male dating antics. Much like ‘Anaconda’, which redefined the narrative around women’s bodies and reached heights of fame Sir Mix-a-Lot could have never imagined, the search for ‘women in male fields’ on TikTok is currently over 40,000 posts strong and reveals women’s ability to counter and challenge toxic practices. It’s proof that if you can’t join them, beating them (satirically, at least) is a powerful form of resistance.
Typical posts within this TikTok trend feature statements like: “I haven’t texted him back but just liked his story,” “Made plans to meet him at 7 so I switched my phone off at 6,” “Saw him wearing a Nirvana T-shirt and asked him to name three songs,” “Told him he’s crazy after he made a valid argument,” and “Left him on read while being active on every form on social media.”
Oh, and we can’t leave out these classics: “Asked him ‘If I am so bad, why are you with me?’ after he started to complain about my behaviour,” “Saw that he wrote me a paragraph and replied ‘I’m not reading all of that,” and “Love bombed him, lent him my sweater, told him I could imagine a future, and then ghosted him although I knew he was already very attached.”
What serves as the inspiration for the prompts starkly differs. Some creators retell toxic behaviours they’ve experienced firsthand, parodying men’s actions in their videos as a form of catharsis. A smaller number of them confess to having practised these things themselves, using the trend to highlight how they’ve turned the tables on their dates and proving that “girls is players too,” in the words of our girl Coi Leray.
This trend is a humorous and witty way to challenge masculinity, and call out the lying, manipulation, gaslighting and cheating people attracted to the male gender have been subjected to.
By turning these behaviours into parody, participants reclaim power and control from men.
Of course, the way in which people in the comment section cheer and advocate for women to appropriate toxic masculinity, or paint these behaviours as permissible when practised by a woman, forces us to confront the same conundrum that led to the fall of girlboss feminism: is gender equality really about achieving parity with men? Or is it about dismantling the system that relies on exploitation and premises toxicity and disparate treatment?
The answer, obviously, is that mimicking toxic masculinity isn’t progress; it’s a short-term coping mechanism disguised as empowerment. Sorry, TikTok girlies, I get that this is all in good fun. But at its core, revelling in someone else’s mistreatment isn’t feminist or progressive, so let’s be careful about the lesions that we draw from this trend.
In fact, dressing up reckless, ignorant, and insensitive behaviour in a feminist narrative has the unpleasant stench of Lean In, Sheryl Sandberg’s brand of empowerment that often prioritised individual success over dismantling the systems that keep inequality alive, all over it.
Our ideas of power are shaped by men because they are the ones who always had it. Yet, they infamously wield it irresponsibly. So if gender equality means stooping to their level, maybe it’s time to reevaluate what we imagine under the term.