Titled

Language shapes power. And nowhere is that clearer than in the words used to describe women.

Miss. Mrs. Ms. Girl boss. Girl math. In this episode Victoria Katheryn asks, who really controls the language? And what happens when women try to create their own?

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Transcript

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We're drowning in it. The titles, the language, the labels, the boxes. And somewhere between going under and coming back up for air, we've been conditioned to gas. It doesn't matter. It's just a title. It's just a word. It's just how it's always been. But it does matter. You're always good. Welcome to Cup of Tea. I'm Victoria Catherine. Always done something good. This one's for you. My WhatsApp is full of my friends chatting with me, our familiar words and safety between us that symbolise the deep love and longevity that is women's friendships. Statements like, can't wait for girls dinner, that fills my heart with excitement and joy. But outside of this, in the real world, girl is a word I dislike vehemently. As outside of my cosy house, looking out of the window into the rainy, shadowy mist, girl keeps me trapped. It's not cozy and doesn't symbolise love. It symbolises power. The language we created to say, we exist, we belong, we have every right to take up space, got picked up, turned around, and handed back to us in a costume. Girl boss. Girl math. Girl dinner. As if we're children dressing up in a man's world. And isn't it so cute I was trying to do that? And the reason that transition happened, men are still the gatekeepers of language. They didn't change the words, they changed what the words meant. And you can see it in how our language is marketed to us too. One advert with a phrase, the best a man can get, no justification needed, he just gets it. Contrast that with the advert that's been running since 1973, telling women it's because you're worth it. Celebrated as a feminist advert. But the entire premise is that a woman needs to be convinced she deserves to spend money on herself. Gillette doesn't need to tell men they're worth a razor. Girl Boss didn't just arrive. She made an entrance. She was that girl, main character energy, building empires from her phone, from her kitchen table, from wherever she needed to be. Hustling, winning. Some of them were literally retiring their husbands with the money they made. And for a hot minute, it felt like the era had changed. Woman was suddenly in charge of the world and commanding the respect that hadn't been given to them in previous generations. But somewhere along the line, the label shifted underneath their feet. Girl Boss went from high-fire, respectable woman to playing pretend, from the entrepreneur to woman at home on her laptop. Nobody announced it, nobody debated it. The gatekeepers just quietly changed the translation. She didn't change. The label did. Over Girls Dinner, a girl boss excitedly tells her friends that she's retiring her husband. A boy boss would never be retiring the wife. Girl Math actually started as women laughing with each other. A New Zealand radio show. A warm, self-deprecating joke about spending your own money. Women on TikTok ran with it. Millions of views, relatable, funny, theirs. Women across the world used it to justify their daily matchilate and a designer handbag. Money they don't. But the trend drew criticism, as it then turned into reinforcing stereotypes about women's reasoning and massability. Despite the fact that it was money a woman earned and it was a joke about spending her own money. It's the challenge really of language going viral on social media, as it led to widespread commentary on the implications of such phrases that critics argue lead to a dangerous misunderstanding of women's empowerment. So does that mean women are not allowed to create humorous language for themselves now? A woman made a joke about her own spending, her money, that she earned, just explaining her own logic to herself out loud. And somehow that became the definitive proof that women couldn't handle money, linking it back to long-held beliefs about how women spent their money back in the day and age when women didn't and weren't allowed to earn their own money. She wasn't asking for permission, she wasn't asking for opinion, she was just spending her own money. Girl math. There is no equivalent mocking of men spending on watches or cars. Men don't have to justify any of their spending. That's always termed an investment, never a joke. A man knew something very personal about me that I hadn't told him. Something that was entirely not relevant to our interaction. And I couldn't figure out how until I did. Miss. A title we give to little girls. It's sweet, familiar, unthreatening. Miss is quiet and kind. We call little girls Miss. And then we call grown woman Miss. And the only reason that changes is if a man is involved. Without a man, you're still the little girl title. You never graduate. You just stay Miss until someone else's name gets attached to yours. Misses. The only title the system actually values, the arrival, the approved. And we were raised to feel it that way. It comes as the reward, as belonging, as being part of something. And that wanting makes complete sense because the system designed it that way, deliberately. Miz. Invented as the solution, the neutral option, except it isn't neutral. Miz carries three completely different women inside it. The one who never married and won't define herself by it, the difficult or feminist one, the one who divorced, and the one who was widowed. Three completely different lives, three completely different experiences, all flattened into one ambiguous title that the system doesn't quite know what to do with. And the widow, she didn't choose to leave Mrs., it was taken from her. Every form she fills in is a quiet reminder. Meanwhile, a widower is still just Mr. Untouched, unchanged, his title never reflected his relationship status in the first place. If Mrs. is the ultimate reward, you'd think we'd at least get pockets. Early 30s female CEOs exist now, something that simply didn't exist when I first entered the workplace. And she still has to tick a box that tells the world whether she's married. It's not optional. Marital status is required for no functional reason. The title didn't get the memo. Gen X broke the doors down. They did everything that was expected. They were mothers first, workers second, if at all, and they paid the highest price in invisibility. Millennials named it, they built the frameworks, Girl Boss, the Hustle, the Pinboards, they fought inside the system very loudly. Gen Z, meanwhile, aren't fighting inside the system. They're just not accepting it in the first place. They don't do boxes, they don't do labels. They're already living the answer our generation was still forming the question for. Three generations pulling at the same threads from different directions. And that's not coincidence. That's a relay race. The woman who wants no titles at all, the woman who loves missus, the woman who'll get married and stay miss, thanks. All valid. And all of them are consequences of the same system. I want you to imagine a girl born in 30 years' time. No boxes to tick, no title assigned before she can speak, just a name. Can you picture it? Truthfully, neither can I. Not fully. And that's exactly the problem. But I know what she wouldn't have. She wouldn't fill in a form that asks who she belongs to. She wouldn't be miss until a man changes that. She wouldn't need a title at all. She'd be just a name that was always enough. One thing I do know is that we have to ask ourselves our own questions whilst the world's is still in this space. Which title were you raised to want? And who taught you to want it? If Mrs. was the only title that feels like an achievement, what does that tell us about what the system was built to reward? What would change for the girls born in 30 years if we made titles optional tomorrow? Three titles, one system. The woman who wants misses, she makes complete sense. The woman who wants nothing at all, she makes complete sense. And the woman who gets married and stays miss anyways, thanks. She makes complete sense too. None of us design the system or the titles we were handed, but we all get to decide what we do with it. Next week, pause something good and relax. I'm back with Next with V, a little trend forecasting and a look towards the stars. You don't want to miss it. Until then, don't forget, use the fancy cups.