From #softlife aesthetics to “sad girl” pop, softness is everywhere… but only when it’s coming from women. Is this emotional empowerment, or just passivity in prettier packaging?
Open TikTok and it’s all there: girls in linen dresses, doing slow morning routines, sipping matcha with Lana Del Rey playing in the background. They light candles, make their beds in real time, and talk about healing and stepping away from the grind. It’s cozy. It’s calming. It’s kind of addictive.
Scroll a bit more and you’ll see the hashtags: #softgirl, #softlife. They’re all selling the same mood, it’s all about gentleness, quietness, vulnerability… but almost always from women.
And that’s what I can’t stop thinking about. Why is softness suddenly everywhere? Why is it so trendy and marketable when it’s packaged in femininity? And is it actually empowering, or just another way to keep women small while making it look like freedom?
Because softness didn’t just show up out of nowhere, it’s been building for a while. First came the ‘clean girl’ look: slicked-back buns, glazed skin, barely-there makeup that somehow still requires five products and a Dyson Airwrap. Then came slow living, coquette-core, pastel everything. Suddenly, the goal wasn’t just to look good, it was to look soft, serene, and effortless.
It makes sense, in a way. After the chaos of the pandemic, hustle culture started to feel like a scam. We were burnt out, online 24/7, and desperate for something gentler. Softness became the antidote: a slower, prettier, quieter way to exist. But even as it spread, one thing stayed consistent…softness is always coded feminine.
You rarely see this language or aesthetic applied to men. There’s no ‘soft boy’ equivalent that’s trending on TikTok (and no, sad indie guys don’t count). When men show emotion, it’s treated as radical. When women do, it’s just another aesthetic.
Here’s the thing: women are allowed to be soft, but not angry. Sad, but only in a way that’s quiet. You can cry, sure, but it better be pretty. Being emotional is accepted as long as it stays contained, aesthetic, and non-disruptive.
That’s why ‘sad girl’ culture thrives. Lana Del Rey whispering about doomed love. Mitski folding herself into metaphors. Billie Eilish making depression sound like a lullaby. Their pain is palatable, it’s artful, it’s melancholic, never messy.
For me, this isn’t just coincidence, it’s conditioning. Women are taught to internalize emotions, not externalize them. Psychology calls it gendered socialisation: girls are rewarded for being emotionally expressive, but only when that expression is gentle. Anger? Outrage? Those are still seen as unlikable. Too much.
But the soft girl aesthetic loves to call itself empowering, and I can’t help but question is it really? Or is it just reinforcing submission?
We’re told that softness is a choice now. That stepping back, taking care, being gentle with yourself is radical. And yes, rejecting grind culture can be powerful. But let’s be honest: this version of softness that we see on TikTok and in influencer reels is aspirational in all the usual, polished ways. It’s slow mornings in minimalist apartments, expensive matcha, luxury skincare routines, and “self-care” that looks more like self-branding.
Softness, in this context, isn’t a rebellion, it’s a lifestyle flex. And like most aesthetic movements, it quietly revolves around money. You can’t live the soft life if you’re working two jobs or stuck in survival mode. You need time, space, and disposable income to opt out of the hustle and into the ‘soft life’.
So while softness might feel empowering, it’s often only accessible to the already-comfortable. It’s sold to women as a form of liberation… but it mostly just rewards those who can afford to slow down.
So where does that leave us? Softness can be beautiful. It can be healing. For some, it’s a form of resistance and a way to reclaim emotional space in a world that constantly demands toughness. But softness isn’t inherently radical just because it’s trending. Not when it’s still shaped by what’s palatable, profitable, and pretty enough to post.
The truth is, softness only gets celebrated when it fits inside the box… when it’s quiet, delicate, and doesn’t disrupt. The moment it gets angry, loud, or demanding, it stops being aesthetic and starts being a problem.
So for me, ‘softness’ is just another way to keep women small while pretending it’s empowerment, and I will never be ok with it.
