Main Character Energy, Soft Life… Not the Flex You Think They Are

Or: Why Every Trend Telling You to “Take Up Space” Still Wants You to Fit Into a Pretty Little Box

We’re in an era of women wanting more.

More confidence. More ease. More presence. More space. But wanting it doesn’t mean we know how to navigate it. And when something is uncomfortable, when it gives us the ick, when it makes us feel too seen, we do what humans do best—we look for shortcuts.

Cue the band-aids. Ahem, I mean trends:

Main Character Energy—because nothing says self-worth like a golden-hour coffee shot, looking effortlessly mysterious.
Soft Life—because luxury and ease should look effortless (but also be perfectly curated).
That Girl—because if you just had the right morning routine, aesthetic planner, and green smoothie, you’d feel whole.

Exist loudly, but make it look good—and if you can stay likable while you’re at it, even better, thanks.

We’ve learned to perform being seen while keeping it palatable, digestible, still somehow… sweet. And listen, I’m not above it—I use these aesthetics too, my Photo Clubbers use them. They’re fun, they’re inspiring, they help us visualize the version of ourselves we’re stepping into.

But they’re not the whole picture and they can’t give you something you already have, because real presence, real space-taking? It’s not curated, it’s not polished, and it’s definitely not waiting for permission.

I know this because I had to learn it myself.

Before We Go Any Further—Let’s Talk About The Post That Started It All

I’ve written about this before—back in April 2024, in fact. That post was good. Hell, it was great. It changed the way women showed up in their photos, how they carried themselves, how they saw themselves.

But it also haunts me because I didn’t take it far enough. I didn’t tell you the whole story.

Back then, I framed it around the way men sit—their effortless sprawl, their unbothered, unshrinking presence. And sure, I could tell you to sit like a man. How spread out, claim the armrest, take up what’s yours—but that’s not quite it. That’s not the full truth.

Because I don’t want to sit like a man.

I want to sit like a woman who was never taught to shrink in the first place.

I want to exist in my space without the subconscious instinct to fold in for protection, without the guilt of being seen, without the need to counterbalance my presence with a submissive smile. That’s the part I didn’t say last time. And that’s why I’m saying it now.

Where Did These Trends Come From? Let’s Consult The Grail (Urban Dictionary, Obviously.)

Listen, I’m not here to rip apart Main Character Energy, Soft Life, or That Girl so don’t come for me. But they all came from somewhere. And if there’s one thing I love, it’s understanding the source.

So, I deferred to my grail, Urban Dictionary, to get absolute clarity and certainty on these. (Which was still open to "Big Minge Energy," because in England this means something else entirely, but I digress.)

Here’s what I found.

Main Character Energy: Owning Your Story…Or Just Capturing It?

Okay, Main Character Energy…explain it to me like I’m four.

It’s Iris in The Holiday, when Arthur tells her,

“I can tell, are a leading lady, but for some reason, you are behaving like the best friend.”

It’s the belief that you’re the protagonist of your own story, that you have agency, that you make choices with confidence instead of waiting to be a supporting character in someone else’s life. Yesss, who doesn’t want that in their life?

But here’s where it gets interesting. Main Character Energy wasn’t always a flex.

After two years of lockdowns, stripped of normal routines and ways of interacting with the world, people started asking, "What does it mean to reinsert myself into life?"

Kyle Chayka, writing for The New Yorker, traced its rise in 2021, explaining that the trend was about reclaiming control of our stories, exerting ourselves upon the world again—and then posting about it.

And this is where the problem starts. Because Main Character Energy wasn’t just about living—it was about capturing the proof. It became a choreographed aesthetic, something to be performed rather than embodied.

As one content creator admitted in the article:

“It just wasn’t fun anymore; there was a lot of pressure. I don’t want the need for content to overshadow the actual experience.”

So let me ask you: If your Main Character Moment isn’t documented, did it still happen? Or, more importantly, if you stop performing it… do you still know how to be it?

We Were Never Taught to Do This (For a Reason)

If you’ve ever felt physically uncomfortable at the thought of taking up more space—congrats, you’re not imagining it. You used to sprawl out on the floor, limbs in every direction. You used to laugh with your whole body, throw your arms up, take up all the space joy required. And then, at some point, you got the message: be smaller.

"Girls learn the most important thing about them is how they look. Boys learn the most important thing about girls is how they look. Girls look at themselves. Boys look at girls. Girls are held responsible for boys looking at them. Girls change how they look. Boys keep looking. The problem isn’t how girls look. The problem is how everyone looks at girls.”
—Lexie Kite, More Than A Body

It’s no accident that you feel awkward spreading out in a chair.
Or standing with your feet firmly planted.
Or existing in a frame without tucking, softening, or adjusting yourself into something smaller.

The way you act when someone pulls out a camera? That’s the way you’ve been trained to act in life.

Soft Life: Aesthetic Rest, But Only if It’s Delicate

The same thing happened to Soft Life. They all have the same problem.

Dubbed "feminine and empowering" by Glamour, Soft Life was supposed to be the direct rejection of girlboss culture—a soothing balm after years of being told to lean in, hustle harder, and adopt the habits of the most sleep-deprived men in the room.

And I get it. I really do. Girlbosses went to bed late and got up at with the 5AM Club to sweat it out at SoulCycle. They leaned in for Sheryl Sandberg and Marissa Mayer who reportedly worked from her hospital bed after birthing her twins. They sipped cocktails at The Wing, stocked up on Balm Dot Com lived for Sophia Amoruso’s biz-advice book, literally called Girlboss all while aimed at breaking the glass ceiling.

They took up space, they leaned in, they asked for more—and honestly? I get it. But now, girlbosses have fallen from grace, and I get that too. In theory? Soft Life is the rebellion. More rest, more ease, more presence. In reality? Another highly curated aesthetic, reserved for another certain kind of woman.

Soft Life isn’t about actual softness—it’s about performing softness. It’s still pretty, dreamy, sweet, leisurely. It’s still elegant, palatable, photogenic.

But listen, men? Their version of relaxation?

✔ They sprawl.
✔ They spread.
✔ They take up as much damn space as possible.

I know you’ve lived this moment too. You’re on a plane. Window seat. Settling in. Aisle seat’s still empty. You’re praying for a petite woman, a kid, anyone who will allow you to exist comfortably in your assigned space.

Instead, you get him. The man who immediately takes the armrest, manspreads into your legroom, exhales like he’s earned it. This is their version of rest.

Rest that e x p a n d s.
Rest that takes up what it needs without hesitation.
Rest that never considers anyone else’s comfort first.

Our version? It’s small movements, soft voices, barely-there aesthetics. It’s whispered requests and adjusting ourselves to accommodate others before they even ask.

We’re marketed rest in small portions. We get a candle-lit bath, a fluffy robe, a single perfect macaron with a cup of tea. Because women’s relaxation is about being dainty. It’s about looking beautiful while you rest. Not sprawling. Not taking up space.
Not existing in your body without shrinking first.

You Already Know How to Take Up Space—You Just Forgot

Before you learned to shrink, before you learned to tuck yourself in, before you learned that making others comfortablewas more important than your own comfort—you knew how to exist loudly.

Think about it.

When you were little, you ran everywhere. You flopped onto the couch with your whole body. You sang loudly, without worrying if you sounded good. You filled the room.

And no one told you to stop—until they did. Until they told you to be quiet, polite, considerate. Until they told you girls sit nicely, girls fold their hands, girls don’t interrupt. Until the world made it clear: your body should not take up more than its fair share.

And so you shrank. Not just in your movements, but in your voice. Your presence. Your belief that you are allowed to exist, fully, without apology. You don’t need to earn it. You don’t need to shrink first. You just need to take up the space that is already yours.

The Real Truth About Taking Up Space

It’s not about mirroring how men take up space—it’s about reclaiming the space that was always ours.

Because you already know how to do this. You did this when you were little—before you learned to cross your legs, keep your voice down, shrink to make room for others. You already do this in the places where you feel fully yourself—when you’re dancing, laughing, lost in a moment where you’ve forgotten to care how you look.

You already are this—you just have to remember. And this time, I’m not just talking about your photos. I’m talking about your life. Because taking up space isn’t a pose—it’s a practice.

And you know I’d never gatekeep this from you.