The Velvet Claws of Comparison

On Jealousy Among Women

There is a peculiar ache that lives in the space between admiration and envy—a velvet-clawed creature that purrs in the presence of beauty, success, and curated perfection. I’ve seen it slink into dressing rooms, masquerade as compliments, and linger in the silence after someone else’s good news. Its name? Jealousy. And darling, she wears heels.

Among women, jealousy is rarely loud. It’s not the scream—it’s the whisper. The glance. The pause before “I’m so happy for you.” It’s the mental math we do when she walks in wearing that dress, with that hair, and that life. We smile, we sip, we say all the right things. But somewhere beneath the surface, a quiet tally is being kept. And the scoreboard? It’s exhausting.

We were raised on fairy tales and fashion magazines, taught to believe that there’s only room for one princess at the ball, one leading lady in the spotlight. So we curate, we compete, we compare. We scroll through highlight reels and call it reality. We dress not just for ourselves, but for the gaze of other women—not to impress, but to outdo. Not to belong, but to win.

And yet, jealousy isn’t always malicious. Sometimes it’s a mirror. Sometimes it shows us what we long for, what we fear we lack, what we’ve been taught to chase. It’s the shadow side of desire—the part we don’t post, don’t hashtag, don’t admit over brunch.

I’ve felt it. You’ve felt it. That flicker when a friend gets the job, the guy, the glow-up. That moment when her success feels like your failure. It’s irrational, unbecoming, and utterly human. And if we’re honest, it’s not about her—it’s about us. Our insecurities dressed up as judgment. Our longing disguised as detachment.

Carrie Bradshaw once mused, “Maybe our girlfriends are our soulmates, and guys are just people to have fun with.” But what happens when soulmates become rivals? When friendship becomes a runway? When support is laced with silent competition?

We say we’re here for each other. We post #womenempowerment. We toast to each other’s wins. But do we clap when it’s not our turn? Do we celebrate without comparison? Do we love without keeping score?

Jealousy, when left unchecked, is a thief. It steals joy, connection, authenticity. It turns brunch into a battlefield and sisterhood into a silent war. But when acknowledged—when named, examined, and softened—it can become something else. A compass. A teacher. A nudge toward self-awareness.

So here’s my proposal: let’s stop pretending we’re above it. Let’s admit the flickers, the pangs, the petty thoughts. And then, let’s choose differently. Let’s turn envy into inspiration. Let’s be the kind of women who clap loudly, love deeply, and glow unapologetically.

Because the truth is, there’s room for all of us. The spotlight isn’t a pie—it’s a sunrise. And darling, the sun rises for everyone.