Aussie women need to stop being the ‘good girl’ and square their shoulders
Growing up in western Sydney, in a white-collar, fundamentalist Christian household, Melissa Browne learned a common lesson. (Source: Supplied)
This week I sat down to write a cute “Hi, I’m Mel” Instagram post. Something light and relatable. But I couldn’t write it.
That’s because everything happening in the world feels too raw and real at the moment. And all I could think about was a little girl.
Me.
And how she was taught and groomed to be the good girl.
And the harm that inevitably caused when she accepted that message. When she made herself smaller. When she stayed quiet. Again. And again. And again.
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My story might be more extreme than most. But the message many girls receive is commonplace: be polite, be restrained, don’t be crass, don’t make waves, don’t be too independent, don’t raise your voice too loudly.
In short, be a good girl.
Maybe it’s because I was the eldest child, but I remember always wanting to please people. My parents. My church. My teachers. It mattered that people thought well of me. That I smiled. That I kept up the appearance that everything was okay.
In my family, it went further.
Mine was a western Sydney, white-collar, fundamentalist Christian household. I learned early that my role was the “good girl”. The “smart girl”. If I behaved, I would be loved and cared for. If I didn’t, affection could disappear.
I learned that if I was broken, I would be cherished. If I was injured, I would be cared for. If I wasn’t broken, I learned to manufacture brokenness. As a child that meant pouring boiling water over my hand to break a streak of parental silence. In my twenties, it became a decade-long eating disorder.
We were taught to “put on your face” before stepping out the car. To show the world everything was fine. Even if there had been fighting. Even if there had been violence.
That grooming, of staying quiet, of protecting others, of minimising myself, meant that when I was preyed upon as a young child, I already knew what to do.
Be meek. Stay silent. Be good.
And while my story may sit at one end of the spectrum, the conditioning is familiar to many women.
Be nice. Be accommodating. Don’t be too ambitious. Don’t be difficult.
The ‘good girl’ conditioning is familiar to many women. (Source: Supplied)
I’ve seen a pushback against this message in movies and on social media. A stripping back of passivity, questioning beauty standards, talking about ageing and sex. But I haven’t seen that revolution extend far enough to money and wealth creation.
Because the “good girl” script doesn’t just shape our personalities. It shapes our finances.
According to UBS’s 2021 “Own Your Worth” report, almost half of women globally (48%) defer to their male partners when it comes to long-term financial decisions. Interestingly, their partners estimate that figure even higher (at 69%).
Yet nearly 90% of women manage or co-manage the household budget. We’ll run the day-to-day spending. But the bigger conversations around investing and wealth building, we often step back from.
Why?
In the same report, 84% of men said it was because their spouse was busy with household obligations. Seven in ten said they didn’t trust their partner to make good financial decisions.
Women’s reasons were different: “I just want to be taken care of.” “It feels more like his money.” “He knows more about it.”
Layer onto that a 2021 Australian study showing that when a woman earns more than half the income in a heterosexual relationship, her risk of emotional abuse increases by 20%. The moment she earns even one dollar more than her male partner, her risk of domestic violence increases by 35%.
Add the reality that Australian women perform 64.4% of unpaid care work compared to 36.1% for men (a gap of more than two hours per day) and the structural weight behind the “nice girl” script becomes clear.
Women over 55 are the fastest growing group at risk of homelessness in Australia. Around 450,000 women over 40 are considered at risk. In the US, more than 80% of women die single or widowed.
Putting on our own financial oxygen mask shouldn’t be radical. It should be basic survival.
But I don’t want women aiming for survival. I want them aiming for choice.
For me, sometimes that lesson plays out on a footpath. When a group approaches taking up the entire path, expecting me to step aside, I now square my shoulders and keep walking. Sometimes there’s a shoulder bump. I resist the urge to apologise.
It’s small. But it’s symbolic. I deserve a strip of space.
Daring to be wealthy begins with recognising that playing the good girl may have kept you safe once, but it may now be keeping you small.
It’s about being intentional. Squaring your shoulders financially.
And recognising that you deserve a place on that path too. The path of financial choice.
Melissa Browne is an ex-financial advisor, now financial educator licensed to give general advice and a best-selling author including her just released book, Dare to be Wealthy. You can find more information at melissabrowne.com.au or @melbrowne.money
