Why Nostalgia For 2016 Feminism Is About More Than Sentimentality
Words: Gabrielle Menezes-Forsyth
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‘I miss circa 2016 girl boss feminism’ laments a user on X, as women claim that they shave their legs because the feeling of their own body hair is overstimulating, in yet another round of discourse mind-numbing enough to make you want to pull out your own leg hair, one follicle at a time. ‘The dilution of feminism on the internet isn’t a new process,’ Rohitha Naraharisetty states in her piece ‘Why is Feminism on the Internet Regressing’. Naraharisetty points to the influence of online trends such as dissociative feminism; a deadeyed, self-destructive, fleabag-esque iteration of the manic pixie dream-girl trope, trad-wives; the newer, shinier 1950s housewife with a ring light and a raw vegan diet, and the rise of the ‘soft girl’ lifestyle; sleepily encouraging women to hang up their work boots and prioritise rest and relaxation, financial independence be damned.
There are also wider concerns regarding the decline of feminism in 2025, with the UN citing that the manosphere is bringing misogyny back into the mainstream, and women's rights world wide being eroded. What is clear is that we are in an era of postfeminism, with the influence of online discourse impossible to unpick from real world losses for the feminist movement, such as the repeal of Roe v Wade in the US, or the uptick in femicide in the UK. This growing sense of disillusionment has led many to look backward, finding unexpected comfort in nostalgia for the 2010s.
Although the feminism of the 2010s was flawed in its own right: highly commercialised and performative, often critiqued for being centred around white women without intersectionality, it makes sense that women are feeling nostalgic for that time, as we watch feminist discourse fragment into ideologically dubious aesthetics that don’t even attempt to distance themselves from the patriarchy, instead leaning in to biological essentialism and gender roles, whilst grown women cry ‘I'm just a girl!’ In Sophie Gilbert’s book ‘Girl On Girl - How Pop Culture Turned A Generation Of Women Against Themselves’, she tracks the influence of culture on women to the present day, providing a roadmap for how we have ended up where we are - arguing about whether ‘girl maintenance’ is feminist on Twitter. Gilbert herself was inspired to write the book by the state of feminism today, stating ‘every ugly trend I’d come of age with as a Y2K teen had looped its way right back around. The recreational misogyny of the aughts [is] back.’
Although the feminism of the 2010s was flawed in its own right: highly commercialised and performative, often critiqued for being centred around white women without intersectionality, it makes sense that women are feeling nostalgic for that time, as we watch feminist discourse fragment into ideologically dubious aesthetics.
2016 feminism was defined by a mix of neoliberalism and radicalism - pink pussy hats and the #metoo movement. The Girl Boss Era managed to straddle these contradictions with intellectual thought, having real feminist thinkers, like Roxane Gay, contribute to the narrative, and over 950 academics writing in support of the 2017 Women’s March. Beyonce was quoting Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie, and terms like ‘intersectionality’ and ‘smash the glass ceiling’ were emblazoned on millennial pink infographics. Body positivity was also a key facet of the movement, with conversations around fatness and plus sized representation finally making their way into the mainstream. Compared to the trad-wife softgirlism of today, it sounds positively utopian.
These new trends disingenuously offer relief from the late-stage capitalistic demands supposedly put upon women by second and third wave feminism. Images of passivity, domesticity, financial dependence and submission define these versions of femininity, but they also signal a retreat from autonomy. ‘Soft life is having time, space, and protection to heal the feminine,’ states one advocate of the movement on tiktok, sounding eerily like a 1950s housewife handbook. The reality of what ‘protecting the feminine’ actually looks like is the regression of womanhood into an aesthetic; girly, waifish,and thin. Gilbert discusses in her book how “The body-positivity movement [is] rapidly being shunted out of favor by the rise of weight-loss medication.” The impact of Ozempic was hard to ignore on the 2025 SAG Awards red carpet, where the sharp return to early-2000s ‘heroin chic’ left one critic describing the event as “uncomfortable viewing”.
Bodies aren't just shrinking, but smoothing and tautening. Not only has there been a sharp return to thinness, but a disturbing rise in cosmetic procedures as younger generations become obsessed with anti-ageing. A report found 49% of the mass growth in skincare sales in 2023 in the US was driven by Gen Alpha. Gen Z are now the most plastic-surgery-forward cohort yet; Botox as a 'preventative’ in the early 20s, subtle rhinoplasties, ‘baby Botox,’ lip and dermal fillers, and non-surgical tightening treatments have all soared in popularity. Whereas previous generations approached cosmetic intervention as a corrective for aging or a dramatic change later in life, young women now seek pre-emptive smoothing, plumping and airbrushing. On tiktok, tweens film GRWMs, flaunting their skincare routines with pride, disavowing the older generations that are ‘aging like milk.’ What could be dismissed as just a trend is underpinned by worrying statistics; reports found Gen Alpha kids felt depressed about aging and 51% of them would spend more than $100 a month to slow or combat aging, compared to 24% of millennials and 15% of Gen Z. Gen Alphas surveyed were also four times more worried about wrinkles and fine lines than other generations.
Bodies aren't just shrinking, but smoothing and tautening. Not only has there been a sharp return to thinness, but a disturbing rise in cosmetic proceduresas younger generations become obsessed with anti-ageing.
In her 2004 book ‘Appetites: Why Women Want’, the writer Caroline Knapp unpacks how cultural messaging teaches women to suppress any and every form of hunger: for food, for sex, for power. In 2025 it feels as though even the desire for liberation has been suppressed. Neo-liberal, postfeminist messaging has infiltrated all aspects of popular culture, and truly radical voices are being drowned out; the body positivity movement has been co-opted by brands, or left behind entirely, narratives from women of colour are being suppressed, and right wing creators are being platformed at every turn. Nostalgia for the 2010s is not a call to return to the perfect feminist paradise of 2016 but a recognition that the goal posts have moved and feminist discourse online feels entirely incoherent, if not actively damaging. Perhaps it's time to dust off the infographics and take to the streets in pink knitwear. Surely anything’s better than this.
