Deconstructing the All-Girls Culture of Gossips, Performance, and Quiet Violence.
Six in ten Malaysian students suffer from anxiety, depression, or stress [1], a clear sign of a growing mental health crisis fueled by academic pressure, societal expectations, and toxic cultural norms. Coming from an all-girls school—one of the so-called ‘elite’ and most prestigious schools in Malaysia—if you were to ask me what I abhor most about a person or a system, it would be the culture of talking behind others’ backs. The spill the tea¹, the busybody² mindset; the ‘quiet’ but deeply harmful bullying and verbal violence. I believe that’s where much of my trauma originated and where I developed my people-pleasing behaviour. Not in the name of Allah³, but in the name of social expectation.
In the name of Allah, the Most Gracious, the Most Merciful.
Don’t get me wrong. I love the girls, and I love the school. First of all, I want to stress that I appreciate everything I developed throughout my years in high school. I loved all the cultures that celebrated sisterhood, ambition, and excellence. The culture that made students thrive holistically from academics to extracurriculars, to leadership and work ethics. Props to that.
But perhaps, beneath all that polished façade was another layer of reality: one shaped by unspoken rules, judgmental eyes, and the constant pressure to perform socially, academically, and emotionally. I think that’s where much of my trauma came from. Not through physical harm, but through emotional erosion—subtle, consistent, and often brushed off as “normal girl things.” In high school, people gossiped a lot. Unnecessarily, in fact.
“So, what’s the teaaaa?!?”
“She’s so weird.”
“She’s such a fake person.”
People looked down on anyone who didn’t fit the Princess Charm School⁴ stereotype. It was as if being different—having a unique mindset, being quiet or reserved—was enough to make you an outcast. Anyone who went against the system—one built on unhealthy insecurity, ego, and jealousy was considered a burden to the organization. People would hate you. They do. It wasn’t even a healthy system to begin with: trash-talking⁵, looking down on juniors for no apparent reason, and even verbal bullying among batchmates. Calling each other names. Trash-talking teachers. The ones with the most influence and the loudest voices were considered the ‘powerful’ ones. And the enablers stayed quiet because they were scared.
And then there’s this: the part no one really talks about—the unhealthy competition among us. We didn’t always know how to truly celebrate each other’s success. Not all of us, of course, but there was often this silent tension in the air. If you got better grades, landed a leadership position, or simply stood out for having principles admired by society, it wasn’t always met with genuine joy. Sure, people might cheer for you on the surface—but underneath, you could sense the quiet jealousy, the discomfort. It felt like some were allergic to seeing others succeed—not because your success harmed them, but because they hadn’t reached it themselves. It wasn’t uplifting or motivational. It was toxic. Or at least, that’s how I experienced it.
Oh, and don’t even get me started on Twitter culture. The slander, the hateful speech, the public humiliation—everything tweeted just to embarrass someone. Sometimes, I genuinely feel like our society operates on a foundation of gossip, backbiting, and performative behaviour. It’s as if “spilling the tea” has become the blueprint for how we interact. That’s also where I developed my people-pleasing behaviour—where I learned to avoid conflict, to stay likeable, to mould myself into what everyone else expected just to survive. We became socially aware, but not in a healthy way. It was like we were constantly walking on eggshells.
Looking back, I realise: it wasn’t in the name of Allah that we acted that way. It was in the name of social expectation. Not driven by faith or character, but by the fear of being left out, talked about, or judged.
Islam, however, teaches us differently to leave what does not concern us. The Prophet ﷺ said:
“Part of the perfection of one’s Islam is his leaving that which does not concern him.” [3]
The word Humazah⁶ (هُمَزَة) comes from the root ه-م-ز, which means to insult, mock, or defame especially behind someone’s back often through gestures, looks, or subtle words. It appears in Surah Al-Humazah, the one we often read as children, which opens with:
“Woe to every backbiter, slanderer, who amasses wealth greedily and counts it repeatedly.” [4]
When I first came across this hadith and verse, I told myself: I wasn’t wrong. This was it. The argument that finally validated every single ill feeling and behaviour I had carried for years. Well… or at least, part of it.
Unfortunately, the disease of Humazah isn’t limited to all-girls schools or even educational institutions in general. It infects entire societies and nations. My experience in an all-girls school is simply the most personal and relatable example I can offer. But in truth, this toxic culture of gossip and backbiting is a social virus, spreading across every layer of our lives.
We’ve seen it as Malaysian citizens where caring about things that don’t concern us becomes our primary focus in life. The gossip about celebrities: Who dated who? Who cheated on whom? Who owns the biggest house or drives the most expensive car? All of it—ultimately—distracts us from our bigger purpose in life.
And let me tell you just how deeply this harms us at every scale: individually, within families, across communities, and even globally. At the individual level, people suffer emotional consequences and identity distortion. Mental illness, social anxiety, and depression have become common. Recent data from the 2023 Malaysian Youth Mental Health Index [1], published by UNICEF and the Institute for Youth Research Malaysia (2022–2024), shows that up to 60% of Malaysian students suffer from anxiety, depression, or stress. A growing mental health crisis among teens is fueled by academic pressure, social norms, and toxic culture. In 2022, 26.9% of 13–19-year-olds reported depression [2], 13.1% had suicidal thoughts, and 9.5% had attempted suicide—most were girls. A staggering 60% are affected. This highlights a growing mental health crisis driven by academic pressure, social expectations, and toxic cultural norms.
Many grow up afraid to make mistakes. Thoughts like “What if they think this about me?” or “What if they hate me?” constantly plague their minds. Some even wonder, “What if I become a burden to society or the nation?” To cope, they develop people-pleasing behaviours that may last well into their 60s or beyond. Life decisions begin to revolve around societal expectations instead of what our Creator wants from us. But why not reframe it: “What does Allah want me to do?” or “What does Allah think about me?” The teenage years are especially critical. And even more so during our prime—when we’re still trying to figure out who we are, our identity, which is a process heavily shaped by our environment. In my case, it was an all-girls school.
At a broader level, toxic behaviours like gossip and idle talk erode trust. They create a cycle of harm and strip relationships of barakah. These habits become normalised, leading to trauma that repeats across generations, and eventually to moral decay and disunity within the ummah. And society becomes distracted from the greater priorities in life, standing up against oppression, addressing social justice, and fulfilling global and religious responsibilities. We forget our true purpose as Allah reminds us in Surah Adh-Dhariyat [5], “I did not create jinn and mankind except to worship Me,” and in Surah Al-Baqarah [6], when He declares, “Indeed, I will place upon the earth a successive authority (khalifah).” These two verses define our role: to worship Allah and to serve as responsible caretakers of this world.
When we lose sight of that, we fall into a negative feedback loop—a chain of spiritual and societal consequences that must be broken before it breaks us.
The point of this writing isn’t to point fingers or trauma-dumping⁸. It’s not a criticism meant to stir more arguments and conflict. It’s a call for awareness. A shared call to action. A call for us to reflect, to diagnose our pain and suffering, and to remove the barriers to healing as an ummah. The goal isn’t perfection. It’s consciousness. It’s not to pretend we weren’t part of the problem, but to now become part of the cure. Whether we’re stepping into adulthood or still walking the hallways of school, the time to reclaim our tongues, our hearts, and our cultures is now. Not in the name of popularity and prestige. But in the name of Allah. And no matter how far we’ve strayed, the door of return is always open. May He forgive what has passed, and guide us toward what pleases Him most.
“Indeed, Allah will not change the condition of a people until they change what is in themselves.” [7]
Glossary:
- Spill the tea: A slang expression meaning to share gossip or juicy details, especially in a dramatic or entertaining way.
- Busybody: Someone who meddles in others’ affairs or is overly interested in other people’s business.
- Allah: The Arabic word for God. The One Creator and Sustainer in Islam, central to a Muslim’s belief and way of life.
- Princess Charm School: A fictional or metaphorical idea often linked with media portrayals (e.g. Barbie films), symbolising glamorised ideals of femininity, politeness, and charm.
- Trash-talking: Speaking in a disrespectful or mocking way, usually to belittle someone common in both casual and competitive settings.
- Humazah: A Qur’anic term (Surah Al-Humazah) referring to someone who mocks or slanders others through words or gestures.
- Ummah: Arabic for “community”; refers to the global collective of Muslims bound by shared faith and values.
- Trauma-dumping: The act of oversharing deeply personal or traumatic experiences without consent or emotional consideration for the listener often in casual settings or early relationships.
References:
- UNICEF. INSTITUTE FOR YOUTH RESEARCH MALAYSIA & UNITED NATIONS CHILDREN’S FUND [Internet]. 2023. Available from: https://www.unicef.org/malaysia/media/4421/file/UNICEF_MyMHI2023_ENG_Final.pdf.pdf
- MOH. nhms Key Findings [Internet]. 2022. Available from: https://iku.gov.my/images/nhms-2022/1a_Infografic_AHS_BI_15062023.pdf
- Tirmidhi. Sunan al-Tirmidhi (2317), Sunan Ibn Majah (3976), Al-Mu’jam al-Awsat (8/202), Sahih Ibn Hibban (229).
- Qur’an, 104:1-2
- Qur’an, 51:56
- Qur’an, 2:30
- Qur’an, 13:11
