The Rise of Mean Girl Culture - A Silent Epidemic

By nature, I am a deep thinker and a deep feeler. Being neurodivergent and highly sensitive, I often sense things long before I can name them. For years I have felt a persistent discomfort with social media - an unease I struggled to articulate. It has taken me a long time to recognise it as what I now call “mean girl culture” -  an insidious undercurrent of social cruelty that is subtle yet deeply felt by many, especially on social media platforms.

Back in my day, mean girl behaviour was pretty easy to spot. It lived in school hallways and locker rooms, passed in folded notes or played out in the obvious exclusion from social cliques. But now, in the digital age, the mean girl has adapted. She no longer rolls her eyes at you or laughs behind your back because she can now do it from behind a screen, her cruelty masked by subtle digital interactions, passive-aggressive behaviours, and a curated online presence.

The Digital Evolution Of Mean Girl Culture

Social media has created a new breed of mean girl behaviour, one that is far more difficult to call out because it leaves no tangible evidence. It operates in the shadows, in what isn’t said and isn’t done. Some of the most prevalent tactics include;

* Ghosting - The sudden disappearance, leaving someone in a state of confusion and self-doubt.

* The Quiet Unfollow - A passive-aggressive way to signal disapproval or rejection.

* Strategic Lack Of Engagement - Withholding likes, comments, or support as a form of social dominance.

* Weaponised Kindness - Performing acts of generosity or wisdom publicly while privately undermining others.

* Curated Superiority - Projecting wisdom, spirituality, or success while subtly tearing others down with narcissistic undertones.

These behaviours are a form of social control. They create an illusion of exclusivity, power, and hierarchy - all while disguising themselves as “positive” or “empowering” interactions.

The truth is popularity does not equal truth and performance cannot replace authenticity.

The problem is that social media doesn’t just allow these behaviours - it rewards them.

The algorithm prioritises those who can package themselves well, those who know how to market their lives as a product. In these spaces, performance replaces authenticity, and popularity is mistaken for truth. We are conditioned to see influence as wisdom and engagement as validation, even when substance is missing.  

We saw this play out in real time with the story of Belle Gibson, the influencer who built an empire by claiming she had healed herself from terminal cancer, through diet and alternative medicine. Thousands of people followed her, believed in her, and bought into her brand.  She was the perfect embodiment of curated wellness - glowing skin, green smoothies, and a self-proclaimed story of survival. But the truth? She never had cancer. It was all a lie. And yet, for years, she was praised, elevated, and idolized because she fit the aesthetic of truth. I highly recommend watching the Netflix series, “Apple Cider Vinegar” which is the story of her rise and fall. I have so much to share about the insights I have gleaned from watching this series.

I have been privy to this very recently, when I met a mentor of mine, who I had been following online in “real time”.  I almost immediately noticed a disconnect between the online persona she projected and the reality of who she was in person. Realising this allowed me to finally name the icky feeling I had long sensed but couldn’t quite define. Not just as mean girl culture but as a curated performance which is mostly inauthentic.

And it’s not just young girls who fall into this trap. We see it in adult culture too - on reality shows like The Real Housewives, Gossip Girl, or MAFS (Married At First Sight), where exclusion, manipulation,  and social power plays are normalised as entertainment.

It permeates workplaces in the form of cliques, silent exclusions, and strategic office politics (just ask my husband!). It also happens in friendships, where some are deemed “worthy” to be part of the “inner circle” while others are not. This happens a lot in socio-economic environments of privilege.

The impact of this silent epidemic is deep and real. Studies show that social rejection and exclusion activate the same brain reactions as physical pain. The rise in teen suicide, eating disorders, and mental health crises among young people is a reflection of this mental toxicity. The mean girls haven’t disappeared they are just hiding behind their screens.

So the question is what can we do? How can we navigate these times? How do we return to something real, something deeper than curated illusion?

1. Stop idolising performance over substance - Ask yourself: is this person sharing from a place of genuine connection or are they performing for validation? Sometimes this is hard to discern, especially if you have only connected with this person online and not in “real” life. This happened to me recently when I met a spiritual mentor for the first time in real life and realised that her online person was completely different to her real life persona.

2. Stop seeing popularity as power - Just because someone has heaps of followers doesn’t mean that they are wise, kind, or worth emulating.

3. Recognise and call out exclusion - When you see people being left out, disengaged from, or subtly undermined, name it.  Awareness is the first step to dismantling covert cruelty.

4. Encourage genuine connection over image - seek out spaces and communities that value authenticity over aesthetics.

The only way we can combat the silent epidemic of the Mean Girl Culture is to start noticing it and seeing it for what it is.  Awareness is the starting point.  Once we do, we can begin the work of choosing something different which is real and kind.

Let’s ensure that the next generation - our children and their children - grow up knowing that their worth is not defined by an algorithm. Real, authentic connection will always matter more than curated online perfection. True power lies in how we treat one another, both online and offline, not in how well we perform on a digital stage.