The Good Girl Trap

I was taught to be a “good girl.”

To smile politely. To help my mom in the kitchen while my brother rode his bike outside. To be the one who volunteered to clean up after dinner. To never raise my voice. To get straight A’s but never brag about it. To be competent but not bossy. To be nurturing but not needy. To take care of others before thinking of myself.

They told me, “One day, you’ll make a wonderful wife and mother.”

No one said, “You’ll make a strong, independent woman who deserves to be supported too.”

From a young age, the rules were clear. Be helpful. Be nice. Don’t cause trouble. Don’t be too ambitious, but don’t be lazy either. Help your parents. Look after your younger siblings. Learn to cook. Fold the laundry. Set the table. Be invisible in your labor, but always available.

And like many women, I followed those rules.

I grew up and became everything I was told to be. I studied hard. I got a good job. I started earning. I became the breadwinner of my family. I bought our houses. To the outside world, I was the modern woman — independent, empowered, and successful.

But inside, I was tired.

Because no matter how much I achieved, the expectations never changed.

When I get home from work, I’m still the one expected to cook dinner.

When my child gets sick, it’s assumed I’ll take the day off, not my husband.

When my parents need help, I’m the one who gets the call.

When the house is messy, I feel the shame — not him.

Even though I bring home the bigger paycheck. Even though I pay the bills, plan the vacations, and buy the groceries. I still carry the emotional load. The mental checklist of birthdays, doctor appointments, school forms, and fridge inventory lives in my head alone.

I’m a provider, a mother, a wife — but the world still sees me as a “helper.” As someone who should be endlessly giving, endlessly accommodating.

Even my husband — kind as he is — has internalized these same scripts. He helps “when I ask,” as if the default state is me doing it all. He praises me for being “amazing,” yet forgets that praise doesn’t lighten the burden.

And when I try to speak up, I’m met with guilt: “But you’re so much better at it than I am,” or worse, “You’re making me feel like I’m not enough.”

No one ever worries if I feel like I’m not enough.

No one asks me if I’m tired.

They just assume I’ve got it handled.

We tell girls they can be anything. We tell them to study hard, to aim high, to dream big. But we don’t undo the quiet teachings that run underneath: That no matter how successful you are, you must still be soft. Still be domestic. Still be responsible for everyone else’s needs.

We’ve told women they can have it all, but we didn’t change the system that demands they do it all.

I once believed that earning my own money would free me.

I thought being the breadwinner would give me power.

But no one tells you that power doesn’t cancel out patriarchy — it just adds another role to juggle.

This isn’t just about fairness in chores or who does the laundry.

This is about how society still defines a woman’s worth by how much she gives — and how quietly she gives it.

But I’m done being quiet.

I’m done shrinking myself to fit inside this perfect little box labeled “good girl.”

I’m done apologizing for being tired, for being angry, for wanting help without having to ask for it.

I want a world where men notice the dust bunnies without being told.

Where taking care of kids isn’t called “babysitting” when a father does it.

Where girls are raised to believe their time is valuable — not just their love, their cooking, or their caregiving.

I want young women to grow up knowing that they don’t have to be everything to everyone to be worthy of love.

That being strong doesn’t mean carrying it all alone.

That being “good” should never mean being invisible.

So if you’re like me — exhausted but still smiling, ambitious but still cleaning up after others, earning but still expected to serve — let me tell you something no one told us growing up:

You don’t have to prove your goodness through sacrifice.

You are allowed to ask for help.

You are allowed to expect more from your partner, your workplace, your community.

You are allowed to be tired.

You are allowed to stop being everything for everyone.

You’re not a bad woman for wanting rest.

You’re not selfish for wanting space.

You’re not ungrateful for wanting equity.

We don’t need more women who can “do it all.”

We need more women who say “I won’t do it all — not alone.”

Because we deserve more than applause for holding it all together.

We deserve a world where we don’t have to.

And maybe the first step is to stop trying to be the good girl — and start being the whole, unapologetic woman we were meant to be.