Being Disliked is a Green Flag

Criticism is not a character flaw. It’s proof of life.

Most women have exerted a Doug, Bill or Mike’s lifetime worth of “smoothing over” energy in a single, fiery night.

And we did so wearing too little clothing in 12 degrees.

To avoid conflict, women sacrifice for the greater good. We’re taught to colour inside the lines. Mirror popular vote. Hand out invites with bipartisan strategy.

We tend to the needs of the harshest person in the room. We tamper down. Cross legs to make space.

After all, being liked is a measure of success.

This is true until it isn’t.

As we step deeper into our adulthood, this version of girlhood loses its sheen.

Being liked comes with sacrifice.

By tap dancing our way into the approval of others, we avoid the shit-talk-worthy risks that buy our freedom.

When we focus too much on making other people comfortable, we trade in our own vibrance for beige.

So, herein lies an important question: if you’re a woman trying to do anything in the world and people don’t openly wish ill upon you, are you even breathing?

Criticism is not a character flaw. It’s proof of life.

The aim isn’t to collect detractors. It’s to stop being less.

To no longer laugh at the unfunny. To not politely listen to the energy-suck. To not compliment the bolero jacket just because they expect it.

There’s a natural pull toward people who are shamelessly themselves.

People who don’t chameleon feel sturdy and decisive.

That said, some amount of censorship and role-playing is required for grandparent relationships and gainful employment.

At work, I haven’t always been myself.

A former boss once told me to be more assertive and “peacock” at a conference (like the real me, who is a shrewd Facebook Marketplace negotiator and owns feather-trim pants, needs a reminder).

Most cringey of all: I have been called nice. Like, as a main descriptor.

Being nice is fine, but when “nice” is your default adjective, something’s amiss.

Tapping into a truer voice, instead of being the star of our own M. Night Shyamalan multiple personality thriller movie, is a forgotten key.

When we’re busy toning it down or hamming it up, we’re only executing who we are part-time.

Playing it safe and shaving down personality removes substance from the equation. It eliminates any chance of us bringing that extra je ne sais quoi to the table. And I, for one, require that je ne sais quoi for all that 2026 demands.

Plus, we didn’t beat the odds and turn one sweaty romp between our parents (*ew*) into living, breathing, sniffling life to be agreeable (and forgettable).

So, if you don’t know what your opinion is, are slinking in corners, or people around you are calling you “nice”, then we’ve got a problem.

Being your true self—unless you only love top 40 hits, working in HR, Dad jokes, Hallmark movies, and quietly smiling out the goddamn window—will mean going against the grain. And being less likeable.

Not everyone will understand our work, funny, projects, interest in taxidermy, or willingness to throw it all away and start over.

Good.

It means you’re actually doing something.

If stepping more into you feels scary, remember:

People eat mattresses.

More than a dozen people attend Nickelback concerts.

Someone is dyeing Trump’s hair with a straight face.

Comicon geeks wear rainbow wigs in sold out convention centers.

People vacation to Ottawa, Ontario.

There is a lid for every deranged pot.

Obscure, underground “anythings” have found their place.

There’s room for a more authentic and unlikeable you in the new wild west.

And remember: no matter how likeable you try to be, you will always piss someone off.

So, you may as well do it as yourself.

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P.s. If you haven’t received hate mail by a male colleague, stranger, or family member in the last 30 days, it may be time to up your shameless. Join us.