“Walk with confidence,” “NEVER show him you’re interested,” “be a bitch”, and “eye contact >” are among the vapid nuggets of dating advice and self-betterment tips I repeatedly come across during my thoughtless TikTok doom scrolling. It appeared as if my algorithm had launched me into the realm of ‘dark feminine energy’, a corner of the internet where women claim they have discovered an otherworldly portal within themselves through leaning into said energy, and in doing so have metamorphosed into a taker-of-no-shit, chaser-of-no-man, cold hearted BITCH who sets her boundaries and looks good doing it. 

Oftentimes, these subtle manipulation tactics and posture reminders are overlaid on archived clips of Megan Fox, Angelina Jolie, or other nameless, young, mostly brunette, conventionally attractive white women, with withering smizes, seductive stares and claims they’ve learned to manipulate men *just* enough to maximize their sexual capital and overall value through a series of life-altering behavioural changes. Ingeniously masked as uplifting, motivational content all about being dominant, assertive and—most importantly—sultry. TikTok’s modernized (but by no means, progressive) take on ‘dark feminine energy’ serves as yet another instigator of insidious comparison among women, fostering an environment of fierce competition, which is hypocritically rooted in appealing to the desire of men.

From the Salem witch trials, to the numerous heroine figures in mythology representing darkness, the night and/or death, women have historically been connected to darkness. Years of patriarchal oppression led us to suppress outward displays of emotion like anger, sexuality, and sadness, and instead attach them with negative connotations. ‘Darkness’, in this sense, became a force to be avoided and feared. With such fear, a narrow definition of femininity emerged, one that expected complacency, passiveness, unconditional kindness, and submission to men, otherwise referred to by dark feminine TikTok as, you guessed it, ‘light feminine energy’.

To present as feminine has long been a binary spectacle, a tug of war between two sides of the same coin, an all-too-familiar dichotomy that has resurfaced on TikTok. At face value, embracing and expressing dark feminine energy, according to bite-sized passages of wisdom often covering HBO’s Euphoria star Alexa Demie’s infamous door-pounding scene, can serve as an initial step in transitioning from a prisoner of one's past to an irreverent catalyst of self-improvement. However, 'dark femininity' falls short in the same way that many concepts centered around 'feminine energy' do: an excessive focus on aesthetics and appearance. Slender-women with chiseled faces doused in YSL Black Opium fragrance with slightly gaped plum-toned pouts, dark tresses in chignon updos or opulent blowouts paired with captivating gazes—dubbed ‘siren eyes’—serve as the poster-children of dark feminine energy, with promises of effortless seduction, abundance, and bypassing traditional misogynistic treatment of ‘light feminine energy’-exuding counterparts. This approach merely echoes the familiar instructions found in mainstream media, perpetuating the decades-long trend of telling women how to attract men.

Let it be known, I love blocking men on social media, sporting a good sultry eye look and Aronofsky’s Black Swan (2010) just as much as the next dead-panned, merlot-swirling boss-babe, but no matter how many unreleased Lana Del Rey song snippets & ‘Aubrey Plaza funniest moments’ breadcrumb trails my algorithm sprinkles, I need not follow them into the ‘dark feminine’ cave system. Crawling with cunning, undiagnosed narcissists, and solipsistic ideologies, inhabitants of dark femininities wavering tunnels parade their internalized misogyny as the phrase ‘if he wanted to he would!’ reverberates through its hollow tunnels, and even emptier promises. 

Perhaps I am overly-critical and the socially-conditioned seed of internalized misogyny is rearing its ugly head by me ‘not letting women enjoy things’, but speaking for myself and several other chronically online z-liennials, we have seen this show before, and are growing increasingly wary of shapeshifting faux-feminism and its various forms. Yes, of course, anyone can throw on some phonk music and ignore ‘Hey. I saw you on Tinder…’ instagram DM requests at their leisure, but that is not the issue, the hypocrisy lies in the dark feminine approach to interpersonal relationships in particular. Throughout my in-depth research, nearly every dark feminine spokesperson on TikTok urges recent converts to participate in an unsustainable cycle of love-bombing and blatant narcissism to woo potential romantic partners. Though the leather-clad maiden of darkness boasts a rather irreverent approach to womanhood—really sticking it to the patriarchy while drowning out cat-calls with Nelly Furtado’s ‘Maneater’ at full blast—‘dark femininity’ inadvertently amplifies the traditionalist gender roles and heteronormativity their unofficial front women like Angelina Jolie have outwardly denounced. Dark femininity insists on women behaving as the ‘prize’, as in, we need not adopt the masculine trait of hunting, and instead, stick to our foraging roots, shopping at x store for x product to upkeep the aesthetic of a desirable ‘prize’ both on and offline.

The emergence of the ever-lucrative influencer marketing industry demonstrates a wider trend of Gen-Z’s prioritization of outward self-expression and categorization into appropriate crevices of social media, suggesting their social and capital value is evidently based on the ability to represent their stable and refined online self-portrayals as accurately as possible. Such behaviour is indicative of the all-hailed ‘dark feminine energy’ trait of maintaining authenticity in an environment where the option to present as deceptive and idealized versions of oneself is worryingly convenient. Amidst the incessant commotion of young womens’ self-discovery conquests, brands and advertisers alike cannot help but to eavesdrop. The way in which Gen-Z self-categorizes into niche identities like the ‘dark feminine’, inadvertently allows brands to target demographics with increased precision. For instance, a luxury fragrance with sultry base notes of patchouli and whispers of orange blossom, originally targeting women 18-40, can now promote their products in collaboration with influencers and public figures alike who represent a more specific niche community. Within such, the appearance of a product like a ‘sexy and sophisticated fragrance for a modern woman’ would seamlessly blend into the trove of products and behaviours which exist as a looming ‘right of passage’ into a community like ‘dark femininity’. 

For Gen-Z, consumption has become an expression of individuality. Identity, in this sense, is formed through attitudes concerning a brand's ethicality, as well as recommendations from peers. In turn, oddly-specific and often redundant niche aesthetics of feminine expression exist on TikTok as trial and error remnants of the endless online identity refinement of what it means to be a ‘good’ woman. In seemingly desperate attempts to differentiate themselves from one another, an entire subcategory of content on TikTok exists to merely define aesthetics in an starter-pack/elevator pitch-like fashion, stripping them of their human host and instead reducing the identity to the slew of products, clothing, accessories and vibes—for lack of a better word—that best represents their tiny nook of the internet. Eerily similar to DSM-5 criteria, where x amount of traits represents y illness, TikTok users seemingly ‘diagnose’ themselves and others into appropriate niches by which ornaments appear on or around them most. For instance, a woman seemingly in-tune with her dark feminine energy often posts from candlelit bedrooms complete with victorian cheval mirrors and vanities ridden with Tom Ford ‘Lost Cherry’ fragrance vials and unopened issues of Vogue in frame. She also found out what ‘sanpaku eyes’ are the other day and now holds her camera at an upwards angle to lip sync along to ‘Doin’ Time’ by Lana Del Rey–this woman means business! My hooded eyelids and desktop fidget toys sure feel pretty fucking stupid right now! 

As we burrow our toes in the sand and watch the choppy waters of fourth wave feminism sweep away the loosely unified remnants of third wave sandcastles ashore, it is needless to say feminism as a whole has endured rather turbulent patches (or ‘cores’) in the past decade. The rise—and subsequent downfall—of the girlboss trope proved that empowering the individual above the collective through sassy bumper stickers and aritzia cardigans was but an empty promise. Followed by the misunderstood bimbo, itching to establish herself by basking in hyper-femininity, the reclamation of derogatory language and championing the glossiest public figures in tabloids and bubblegum pop alike. The bimbo challenges notions on sexuality and self expression all while remaining blissfully naive of real world-issues, like imminent nuclear-war, or god forbid, underwear lines. God, I am so tired. 

So you’ve tapped into your darkest of feminine energies and he still isn’t responding to your inconsistent attention or exhibiting neurotic & sexually depraved behaviours, now what? Fear not, succubus. Let the words of Mary Shelley give you the heart to extinguish your pillar candles, unclench that jaw and let your brows furrow. Shed your seductress apparel and forced callousness for an unremarkable outfit with no ulterior motive beyond comfort and self-expression. 

Or don't! Either way the partner of your dreams will never (and should never) be the Pavlovian dog who froths at the mouth at the very mention of your name. Romanticizing obsessive behaviour is both a bizarre and dangerous narrative to legitimize as an admirable display of affection.