Gossip Culture and Where Do We Draw the Line

Whoa, crazy weekend, Zags. But focus up; class is back in session. And you may want to write this one down.

“Okay, okay, okay. I need to tell you what I overheard at Thomas Hammer the other day.”

That’s what it sounded like. I was in line, minding my own business, fully zoned out, when the two girls behind me debriefed a situation so intense, in such detail, that I almost turned around and asked if I could file a witness statement. I don’t know this man. I’ve never met this man. But the time I got my drink, I knew his major, his ex’s name, his roommate’s drama, and the exact wording of a text he sent at 1:47 am last Tuesday. Here’s the thing: I wasn’t mad; I was pretty invested. I kinda want the sequel to drop on Netflix.

Which made me think: why are girls like this? Why are WE like this as people? Why is “let me tell you what happened” the love language of every friend group? And, more importantly, is it a bad thing to gossip, or have we been gaslit into thinking one of the oldest forms of human bonding is a moral failure because of its cute nickname?

So we’re talking about gossip culture. Why girls get thrown under the bus and where that line actually is. And why “oh I don’t like to gossip” is the biggest lie told on college campus, right after “I’m going to bed early.”

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If you walk through Hemmingson at prime lunch hour, you’ll hear at least four separate girls saying some variation of “no, but wait, listen.” That’s gossip. If you sit in the back of your 10 am class before the professor starts, you may catch the full recap of someone’s juicy weekend. That’s gossip. If you open any group chat on your phone right now and scroll a bit, there’s likely some sent receipts of some drama from last week. Gossip? Check.

We’re constantly talking about other people. Constantly. And girls get handed the label: Gossip Girl, Chatty Cathy, Little Miss Two Cents, like it’s a whole personality flaw and not, maybe, one of the reasons humanity survived this long.

Real Talk

Anthropologists think gossip is why humans formed communities in the first place. Like before we had group chats, we had fires. And around them, people were saying, “Hey, don’t trust Caveman Gary; he was ostracized for stealing from the last tribe.” That’s a form of gossip. Back then it was a warning system, and that information kept people alive.

So when your friend pulls you aside and goes, “Okay, I need to tell you something about that guy from the party…” That’s not her being a Chatty Cathy; that’s 10,000 years of evolution doing its job.

The funny thing about gossip is that it’s seen in a more negative light when women do it. We’ve made so many reality TV shows about women running their mouths and putting others’ social reputation at risk. But when guys do it, it’s basically a normal catch-up session; they’re talking, it’s something I heard, or my favorite “bro.” But said in that specific tone that carries an entire paragraph of information. This isn’t the Kardashians.

I have a guy friend who can communicate a breakup’s worth of drama in one raised eyebrow and the word “ya know.” The king of nonchalance. He’s an example of advanced gossip. A form of linguistic efficiency I couldn’t achieve in my lifetime.

But when girls do it, we use words, slang, code names, and as many details as humanly possible to show our audience a deeper form of care. Sometimes, the outside viewer gets caught up and thinks that a group of girls talking is them just being catty and dramatic. The unreleased version of Mean Girls IRL.

The label isn’t about behavior. The label is about the volume. Girls are louder about it; we like to commit to the bit and invest in each other’s personal details on a deeper level than guys. We treat it like storytelling, but society can twist it into a character flaw. Gossip, while it builds bonds and community, can bring out a monstrous side of people and put others down just as easily.

Not All Gossip is Created Equal

Woof, I’ve been there. I can sit here and defend gossip all day, and the evolutionary angle on it is real, but I also know that when someone is the topic of dinnertime vile, it’s no longer bonding.

It’s now been turned into a sport.

You know the one. There is someone, usually another girl, who hasn’t done anything wrong. She just exists in a way that annoys your group, and she becomes the main character of your chat without her permission. Every time she posts, there are screenshots of the receipts. Every time she shows up in public, there is commentary and side-eye. And now, a quick update becomes the main form of entertainment at her expense.

That’s where I have to check myself; I mean, that’s where everyone should check themselves. Because I’ve been in that chat, I’ve sent a few screenshots, and been at the dinner table where my friends beat the dead horse. And the reason I keep thinking about this topic is that I end up not liking who I am in those conversations.

So maybe the question isn’t “is gossip bad?” but more like “what is gossip doing or about to do to someone else?”

Check Yourself Before You Wreck Yourself (And Your Friendships)

Here is what I’ve landed on. It’s a quick three-question process:

1. Is it my story to tell?

Classic, but often forgotten. Your friend’s breakup isn’t your content. Your roommate’s family drama is not your content. If it happened to you, you have the freedom to tell as many or as few people as you want to. If it happened to them and they told you in confidence, you should protect their trust.

2. Am I processing or performing?

There is a difference between “I need to talk this out with you because I don’t know how to feel about it” and “let me tell you this because I know I’ll get a reaction.” One is what friends are for, and the other is leveraging your status in the friend group over someone’s life material.

3. Would I say it to their face?

This one cuts a little deeper. This isn’t “would I curate it, but I can still tell it to the person.” I mean the substance, the content you’re about to go over in a snide manner to your dinner-time catch-up. If the person you were talking about walked up right now, would what you’re saying be something you could own up to saying? Or would you awkwardly change the subject to your Econ class?

If you pass all three, then you’re free to talk. Honestly. You’re processing right with good friends and being an honest human.

If you fail one or have to take a second to think about it, maybe think about why you want to say it so badly.

Hot Take Hotline ☎️

Hello, thank you for calling the Hot Take Hotline. Got a hot take? Press one.

1. “I don’t gossip” is one of the ways we’re all kidding ourselves as college students. Yes, you do. Or at least have. You told me something about your lab partner 20 minutes ago; just admit it.
2. Reposting someone’s soft launch to the group is a form of gossip. I don’t know why our generation is obsessed with the idea of being nonchalant. We just pretend that the highlight of “OMG look who she’s with” with 15 detective emojis is a full episode of Love Island.
3. Guys gossip too, just with fewer words and 100% more plausible deniability. “Yeah, he’s weird.” That’s the whole conversation. Everyone agrees, and nobody can explain why.
4. There is a difference between tea and trauma. If your friend is telling the same story about the same person for the fifth time this month but getting more worked up every time, then you might want to check in.

So, Zags, here’s your homework: keep spilling the tea, keep having those two-hour debriefs, and please never stop saying, “Wait, I have to tell you something.” Because gossip isn’t going anywhere, and frankly, I don’t think it should.

But remember, there’s a difference between sharing a story and making someone else’s life the punchline. You can be a girl’s girl and still love a little drama. Just know when the tea has gone cold, and it’s time to put the cup down.

And to the girls behind me at Thomas Hammer, if you’re reading this, I still need to know what happened with that guy.

xx, KJ