By Lily Foss ’13Feminism Columnist
I’m not sure how many of you have heard the term “SWUG,” so let me catch you up: it’s an acronym for “senior washed-up girl.” A self-identified SWUG at Yale coined it in a piece for the Yale Daily News in which she wrote that being a SWUG meant embracing “the slow, wine-filled decline of female sexual empowerment as we live out our college glory days.”
Confession time, dear readers: I’m totally a SWUG. Last Saturday night I spent the entire evening watching the first season of “Gilmore Girls.” All 22 episodes. That was my night. And you know what? I LOVED IT. That was exactly how I wanted to spend my evening. And that’s the great part about being a senior, at least in my opinion. When I was a first-year, I felt a lot of pressure to go out and do young-people things every weekend. Sometimes it was fun to do the party circuit. But those parties get repetitive. And I’m really not much of a party person. They’re great once in a while, but every weekend? Not my jam. Now that I’m older, I don’t feel obligated to go out every weekend. I know that my worth doesn’t hinge upon how many social events I attend, so I can admit to myself that, to me, a night spent in my pajamas eating leftover pie and catching up on “The Daily Show” is a great night (tonight was a great night).
However, I had some issues with the original article. For one thing, I didn’t care for the implication that not wanting to pursue relationships indicates the “decline of female sexual empowerment.” I’m not single because I am disempowered. I’m single because I am done with playing dumb college dating games. I’m looking at you, guy in my physics class who told me that I should come over to his apartment to “listen to some country music.” If you’re inviting me over for sex, just come out and say it! And I will say no, because that was the last day of class and you hadn’t talked to me at all the whole semester. Should have laid the groundwork, dude. But seriously, enough with all this fake subtlety. I’m too old for this shit. And I’m too old for the guys who randomly want to make out at parties and never see me again, or the guys who ask for my number and never text, or any of that malarkey. Those things have their place, and that’s fine. But it’s not what I want.
But my biggest issue with the article? The “washed-up” part. I’m not washed-up. I’m 22 years old. My entire life is ahead of me. So maybe I’m bored with the whole college lifestyle thing. That’s good. I’m graduating in a month (provided this thesis gets done—that “Gilmore Girls” marathon probably wasn’t the best idea), so the sooner I get over college, the better. And my college years weren’t my glory days. I refuse to believe that. These weren’t the four years when I passed the bar. They weren’t the four years when I practiced law and championed for human rights. The four years when I argued a case in front of the Supreme Court. When I was appointed to the Supreme Court. As much as I’ve enjoyed my time at Scripps, if these were my “glory days,” that’d be pretty damn sad. And that’s why I’m totally embracing my SWUG-ness—because I know that there are way more great things to come for me in the future. If the best is yet to come, why waste time trying to fit myself into the “college student” mold when it isn’t what I want? No thanks. Parties and dating are fun sometimes, but right now all I want to do is hang out with my girls: Lorelai and Rory.