I finished university this summer and did what every broke, unemployed, confused graduate does. I moved back home. And in the absence of the fast-paced, energetic, all-consuming student lifestyle I was left with one thing: a nauseating wave of nostalgia.

Suddenly I had the headspace to face what was niggling at me the whole time I was at university, what was ignored when I was distracted with housemates and assignments and nights out. Nostalgia.

It had been there the whole time. When I was in my second year I was nostalgic for my first, and in my third year I was nostalgic for my second. Now I’m nostalgic for all three.

And this certain sentimentality latches itself onto everything. A scent, a song, a sensation; you find it everywhere you look for it. It manifests itself as a continuously rising sob, one that never quite reaches the surface but is always there, harrowing and tormenting, and on the verge of a scream.

What I would do to be back in my first-year flat, getting ready in my tiny room, eating takeaways in my shared kitchen. I long to be back in a lecture hall on a crisp autumn afternoon with the smell of dropped leaves still lingering in my nostrils. I ache for all the uni house sofas, for all the hungover mornings sprawled out on them, the cosy movie nights curled up on them, the parties squashed up on them against all my friends.

And it goes back further than that. I am nostalgic for my whole life. Every time I look at photographs, or read old messages, or listen to a song I used to love, it hits me.

One hint of an old perfume scent makes me ache to rewind to the time I wore it. The first drop of rain after a dry spell makes me long for cozy autumn evenings long gone. The taste of sprinkles and icing makes me wish I could step out of my adult body, and back into that of the little girl with a sugar rush.

But why is it that I become nostalgic for the things that seemed insignificant at the time? For the things that weren’t particularly special? It’s not just the birthdays, the holidays, the celebrations. I could think back to a random day, sitting at my kitchen table in my second year of university, not really doing anything at all, and miss it like a lost limb.

I think it’s because I didn’t appreciate it when it was happening, and nostalgia is reminding me of how good I had it all along. It doesn’t mean that I’m not content with where I am at now, it just means that I’m lucky to have lived a life that I can yearn for. You can be nostalgic about the past and still love the life that you are living today.

So, I think nostalgia is a blessing. Although it haunts me, I feel lucky to experience it. It weaves its way into every memory – I can’t think back to a time without being swept of my feet by the lingering sense of sadness that that time is over. But again, I am lucky to experience this. I am lucky that I’ve got memories so good I ache to return to their time. I am lucky to miss the life I’ve already lived.

It can be sad, but it’s a happy sad. The kind of sad where you feel a tear roll down your cheek straight past a big beaming smile. Perhaps one day I’ll be nostalgic for this very moment, sitting at my kitchen table, as the summer after my final year at university seeps into autumn. Nostalgia is a privilege, a gift, a beautiful thing. Embrace it.

On the surface, these seemingly harmless trends unite women with common experiences and situations, creating a new culture where girls can embrace their femininity online. They build an illusion of safety, of familiarity, of a level of womanhood that social media embraces and protects.

But these trends don’t uplift us, not really. They undermine us, and here’s how.

‘Girlhood’ trends don’t focus on the true issues impacting women, they instead add fuel to the fire. They emphasise the internalised misogyny that circulates in every nook and cranny of our society.

When the phrase ‘girl math’ began to appear on social media, it presented as an inoffensive, humorous way for women to rationalise financial decisions and spending habits. But thinking about it, isn’t ‘girl math’ just another way to undermine women’s intelligence? It alludes to a simplified, flippant, foolish understanding of money, and puts women back into a position of subordination.

It reinforces the narrative of men as the analytical thinkers, because why trust a woman with legitimate financial decisions when her outlook is skewed by careless and nonsensical ‘girl math’?

This trend also fails to recognise the causes for these entrenched beliefs surrounding female spending patterns. Consumerism is marketed to women above men, with constant new trends, hobbies and brands to keep up with. The rise of influencer culture hasn’t helped, and women are constantly sold the value of material goods to achieve the ‘aesthetic’ that we want, whereas men are more commonly roped into investing, financial gain and pursuit of property.

So really, ‘girl math’ belittles women by implying a flippant, ignorant justification of spending without acknowledging that the very system is structured in a way that incites this.

Another example? ‘Female rage’.

When I think of female rage, I think of centuries of entrenched misogyny and an endless struggle for inequality. I think of objectification, of violence, of taking every precaution for our safety and accepting it as normalised. But on TikTok? ‘Female rage’ is reduced to something that yet again is comparable to our looks.

Too many times I have seen the real meaning behind ‘female rage’ be simplified and diminished. Is having a bad hair day or a broken nail a true reflection of the struggles that women face? Is having nothing to wear or removing a good makeup look the epitome of female wrath? No.

And yes, it is just a trend. Yes, it is just a joke. But it still minimises the real connotations of female rage. It celebrates an attachment of our worth to our looks and makes out that women are only troubled with matters of their physical appearance, or frivolous issues like finding jeans that fit both your hips and your waist. It once again is superficial, objectifying and suppressive.

Even the trend of ‘girl dinner’ rapidly turned into something detrimental. What began as a fun way for girls to eat their favourite foods without the pressure of cooking a high-effort meal snowballed into something that pits women against each other and reinforces harmful habits.

‘Girl dinner’ is frequently used to justify undereating, with many videos normalising having a Diet Coke and a couple of chips for an evening meal. ‘Girl dinner’ shouldn’t be about having a tiny, ‘petite’ snack and calling it relatable. It should be about allowing yourself to make a meal once in a while that you can just really enjoy. A meal where you don’t need to worry about its nutritional value, or its presentation. A meal where you can eat something random and weird just because you like it. That should be the meaning of ‘girl dinner’.

Instead of uniting us over shared experiences it once again boils down to comparison and harmful habits. Your ‘girl dinner’ doesn’t need to be a sliced apple and some slivers of cheese to fit the aesthetic. The trend disguises itself as representing girlhood, but it is all too easy for the mask to slip and expose the ugliness underneath. Undereating isn’t romanticised or girly or quirky, but ‘girl dinner’ facilitates it. It is another phrase that is detrimental, not empowering.

And the worst one of all? ‘I’m just a girl’.

Every time a woman says ‘I’m just a girl’ to justify her actions, girlhood is taken a step out of what it really should be – a unity where women can uplift, empower and progress each other. Every time she reduces herself to ‘just’ a girl she undermines gender equality and women’s battle for empowerment.

The phrase makes light of what is serious. It minimises female ability and autonomy. If a woman crashes her car and posts a video online with the caption Oops! But I’m just a girl, it again reinforces negative stereotypes and entrenched beliefs around female capability. You crashing your car has nothing to do with you being a woman. Don’t take an accident, a failure, a mistake, and then attribute it directly to your gender to try and make it light-hearted. Why endorse the notion that women are less capable than men?

You are not ‘just a girl’, you are fun and kind. You have a brain — you are intelligent and independent. You have aspirations, morals and opinions. You have agency! Do not allow these off-hand catchphrases to dismiss your power as a woman.

So, when these online trends appear, one after the other, time and time again, look closer. Look below the surface and you will see how they don’t protect girlhood, they protect the patriarchy. When you use these trends, you are not reclaiming what it means to be a woman, you are subconsciously withholding it to tradition, to misogyny.

Real female rage is watching girls online be deceived by these endless trends. They do not embrace what ‘girlhood’ should be. They do not unite us as whimsical and feminine and quirky; they reduce us like everything else.