Girls at the Frontline of Misogyny: Why the UK Government is Failing its Youngest Citizens

Content warning: This article discusses sexual harassment, online abuse, poverty, climate anxiety, and systemic misogyny affecting girls.

A Generation after Siege

The Girlguiding Girls’ Attitudes Survey 2024 exposes a profound crisis: 74 per cent of girls aged 11 to 16 have experienced sexism, and 95 per cent of young women between 17 and 21 report being judged through restrictive gender expectations. These figures cannot be dismissed as anecdotal; they represent a pattern of structural misogyny that shapes education, public life, and digital culture.

In the British context, the impact of austerity, gaps in safeguarding, and the trivialisation of gendered violence have created a landscape where misogyny is normalised. Faced with institutional neglect, many girls feel compelled to become activists as a means of self-protection. The political question that arises is stark: why are children forced to correct what governments deliberately ignore?

To understand the severity of the UK crisis, it is necessary to situate it within a global frame. In Latin America, research by Plan International shows that over 90 per cent of young women surveyed have experienced online abuse, disinformation campaigns, or harassment designed to silence them. In the United States, Pew Research finds that more than half of teenage girls report some form of online harassment, with significant consequences for self-esteem and mental health.

Across the Middle East and North Africa, adolescent girls face defamation, cyber-extortion, and exposure of personal information when they speak publicly. In sub-Saharan Africa, NGOs report that around 80 per cent of girls have endured some form of digital gender-based violence. Misogyny in adolescence is not unique to Britain; it is a global crisis.

In the UK, these global patterns manifest in everyday behaviour. Girls describe altering the way they walk, dress, or speak to avoid verbal abuse, sexualised comments, or unwanted attention. This constant self-modification becomes an early lesson in fear, teaching girls to reduce their visibility to feel safe. Schools, streets, and media environments reinforce this normalisation of harassment. The state observes, responds superficially, or denies the scale of the problem altogether. Responsibility is shifted from public institutions to private individuals.

The idea that young people must manage their own safety and well-being represents an unjust and untenable burden. In a country that prides itself on democracy and modernity, the abdication of responsibility towards girls should be a national scandal. When adolescents create campaigns against harassment, develop peer-to-peer support networks, or take to social media to denounce misogyny, they are responding to institutional absence. Their resilience is not evidence of empowerment but proof of the systemic failure. What emerges is a crisis that is structural, not incidental.

International human rights frameworks reinforce this interpretation. In its 2023 Concluding Observations, the UN Committee on the Elimination of Discrimination against Women (CEDAW) urged the UK to strengthen protections against gender-based violence and to address failures in safeguarding girls. CEDAW highlighted the need for systemic rather than piecemeal responses. This global critique confirms that responsibility lies not with victims but with governments. State invisibility is itself a form of violence.

The End Violence Against Women Coalition’s 2023 report, The Decriminalisation of Rape, adds further weight to this argument. It documents a justice system where rape prosecutions remain vanishingly rare, survivors are routinely disbelieved, and accountability is hollow. Such systemic impunity sends a clear message: women’s and girls’ bodies remain unprotected. When adolescent girls see that even survivors who come forward are failed by the system, they internalise their vulnerability. Impunity at the highest level translates into fear at the earliest ages.

The effects of austerity amplify these dangers. Cuts to school budgets mean many institutions lack resources to provide comprehensive sex education or professional safeguarding staff. Mental health services, already overstretched, cannot meet the needs of girls experiencing trauma from harassment and abuse. In deprived areas, youth services have disappeared almost entirely, leaving girls without safe spaces. The state outsources protection to charities and local initiatives, while abdicating its duty of care. The erosion of the welfare state magnifies misogyny’s impact.

Political culture compounds this abandonment. Policymakers often frame girls’ experiences of sexism as “growing pains” or “isolated incidents”. Such minimisation dismisses lived realities and legitimises inaction. Yet the data prove otherwise: harassment and misogyny are routine. When the state trivialises adolescent suffering, it institutionalises neglect. The outcome is normalisation of injustice.

The digital sphere intensifies these harms. Girls report that sexist content, trolling, and algorithmic exposure erode their sense of safety. Online abuse has offline consequences: some withdraw from social platforms, limit interaction, or lose access to educational and creative opportunities. Trauma generated in digital spaces is as real as trauma in physical ones. Online misogyny is an extension of structural violence.

An intersectional perspective shows the uneven distribution of this crisis. Black girls, disabled girls, migrants, and LGBTQ+ young people experience compounded violence and are least likely to find institutional support. Latin American and African NGOs report that racialised girls are disproportionately targeted with racist and sexualised slurs online and in public. These patterns are mirrored in the UK, but are often rendered invisible by policy frameworks that treat all girls as a homogenous category. Without intersectionality, responses will reproduce exclusion.

Against this backdrop, girls in Britain and worldwide are beginning to lead forms of resistance. They create anti-harassment campaigns in schools, mobilise hashtags, organise petitions to local authorities, and even participate in youth parliaments. They act not because they freely choose activism, but because they need tools to survive. This labour of resilience is unfairly demanded of them. The state must stop offloading its responsibilities onto children.

The central critique is therefore unavoidable: misogyny must be treated as a national crisis requiring structural solutions. Girls and young women cannot continue to shoulder the burden of protection, advocacy, and reform. Addressing this requires comprehensive change: education reform, safeguarding enforcement, online regulation, economic justice, and climate accountability. Resilience is not policy, and hope is not protection. The future of girls depends on governments fulfilling their obligations rather than outsourcing them to the young.

Everyday Sexism as National Curriculum

The Girlguiding 2024 survey shows that 74 per cent of girls aged 11 to 16 and 95 per cent of those aged 17 to 21 report experiencing sexism. These figures demonstrate that gendered prejudice is not sporadic but systemic, shaping childhood long before adulthood. By the age of seven, girls already recognise that certain behaviours and ambitions are deemed inappropriate for them. This early internalisation forms a curriculum of misogyny embedded in education itself. Girls are not just pupils of mathematics and history but unwilling students of gender inequality.

A 15-year-old in Manchester said she avoids buses after school because of constant catcalling. She told researchers, ‘It feels normal now, but it shouldn’t be.

Kia

Schools, the very institutions that should nurture ambition, often reinforce hierarchies instead. The Ofsted Review of Sexual Abuse in Schools and Colleges (2021) revealed that harassment, unwanted touching, and sexist jokes were so normalised that students considered them routine. Three years later, Girlguiding’s findings confirm little has changed. Harassment has become background noise, part of everyday school life. When schools remain silent, sexism becomes part of the national curriculum.

Girls from Black and racialised communities face harassment compounded by racism. Girls with disabilities are often excluded from sex education curricula and disbelieved when they report abuse. Girls from migrant backgrounds experience language and cultural barriers when seeking support. Girls who identify as LGBTQ+ are disproportionately targeted with slurs and pushed into silence. Intersectionality is not an academic add-on but the daily reality of those most marginalised.

Government frameworks still treat harassment as isolated incidents. Reporting systems rely on girls to come forward while institutions fail to address the cultural environment that enables abuse. The End Violence Against Women Coalition’s 2023 report, The Decriminalisation of Rape, shows how impunity for sexual violence filters down into schools. If survivors outside schools rarely see justice, girls inside them can hardly expect accountability. The silence of institutions legitimises harm.

International comparisons confirm Britain is part of a broader pattern. In the United States, the American Association of University Women found that nearly 60 per cent of girls reported sexual harassment before leaving secondary school. In Mexico, UN Women documented that over 70 per cent of adolescent girls face harassment on public transport. In Egypt, research suggests that 80 per cent of young women experience harassment before adulthood. Misogyny is global, but Britain’s scandal lies in pretending it is exceptional.

A 13-year-old told the survey she keeps quiet about sexist jokes in class because ‘teachers laugh as well, so what’s the point of speaking?

Emma

The effect of this normalisation is devastating. Girls absorb the message that they are less safe, less valued, and less free. This translates into diminished confidence, reduced ambition, and a tendency to self-limit. Many withdraw from subjects, sports, or public activities to avoid exposure. The government’s failure to intervene allows a generation to shrink under institutional neglect.

Schools lack the training and resources to change this culture. Teachers often feel unprepared to challenge harassment or to create inclusive spaces. Without structural guidance, responses are ad hoc and inconsistent. Girls quickly learn that reporting may bring no resolution and sometimes retaliation. Silence becomes a survival strategy rather than a choice.

Online harms amplify offline misogyny. Sexist memes, viral jokes, and online harassment infiltrate classrooms. When digital abuse is dismissed as “banter”, it legitimises similar behaviour offline. Girls report that boys who harass them online face no consequences in corridors. The digital and physical are now one continuum of misogyny.

The UN CEDAW Committee (2023) criticised the UK for failing to adopt comprehensive strategies against gender-based violence in schools. Their observations confirm what domestic reports already reveal: piecemeal reforms are insufficient. Britain is falling short of its international obligations to protect girls. The scandal lies not only in inaction but in denial.

Girls should not be praised for resilience in surviving harassment. Resilience cannot compensate for state failure. Hope cannot replace safeguarding. Britain’s education system is failing its girls, and the government’s refusal to act transforms schools into unsafe spaces by design. Everyday sexism is not an inevitability; it is the consequence of political choice.

Unsafe by Design: Harassment in Schools and Public Spaces

The Ofsted Review of Sexual Abuse in Schools and Colleges (2021) found that harassment was so widespread that students considered it “normalised.” Three years later, the Girlguiding 2024 survey shows this culture remains intact: most girls report feeling unsafe in classrooms, corridors, and public leisure spaces. Harassment is not an occasional breach of rules but is embedded in the daily design of education and childhood. Safeguarding systems are often underfunded and inconsistent. Silence, more than action, shapes the experience of girlhood.

A 14-year-old said she avoids certain hallways in her school because ‘it feels like walking through a gauntlet of comments.

Sasha

Girls describe classrooms, corridors, and playgrounds as places where sexist jokes, unwanted touching, and intimidation are routine. Teachers, overstretched and sometimes complicit, dismiss incidents as trivial or unavoidable. This dismissal communicates that harassment is not worth challenging. For many girls, the very institutions meant to nurture them become complicit in their harm. A school day becomes a lesson in inequality.

The EVAW Coalition’s 2023 report, The Decriminalisation of Rape, underscores the systemic roots of this culture. If survivors outside schools rarely see justice, girls inside them have even less chance of protection. They internalise the reality that institutions shield perpetrators. This erodes trust in education and governance. A crisis of safety becomes a crisis of democracy.

The CEDAW Committee (2023) criticised Britain for relying on fragmented strategies, such as the Violence Against Women and Girls plan, rather than implementing structural reform. Safeguarding frameworks remain reactive, not preventive. Reports are often managed to protect school reputations rather than children’s safety. These dynamics institutionalise neglect. International oversight confirms what girls already know: the state is failing them.

Public spaces echo these failures. Girls describe harassment on buses, trains, and in parks as routine. A Girlguiding testimony captures this vividly: “I hold my keys between my fingers when I walk home. My friends do it too. We laugh about it, but we shouldn’t have to.” Safety is denied as a civic right. Every day, mobility becomes conditioned by fear.

Comparative evidence reinforces this. In France, 81 per cent of young women report altering their behaviour to avoid harassment on public transport. In Brazil, more than 70 per cent of adolescent girls say they feel unsafe travelling alone. In Kenya, studies show that over half of schoolgirls have faced harassment on their daily routes to school. These numbers confirm that harassment is a global design flaw. Yet Britain’s scandal lies in refusing to confront it directly.

The impact is profound. Girls restrict their movements, skip extracurricular activities, or withdraw from public life altogether. In schools, this reduces participation and achievement. In society, it narrows citizenship and opportunity. Harassment forces girls to retreat from spaces they should inhabit freely. It is a theft of confidence and future potential.

Safeguarding systems are meant to prevent such harm, but often collapse. Reporting processes depend on girls speaking up without guaranteeing protection. Investigations are inconsistent and retraumatise those who come forward. Schools prioritise reputation over accountability. The result is an architecture of silence.

For some groups, this failure is even sharper. Girls with disabilities face inaccessible reporting systems and disbelief about their experiences. Girls from Black and racialised communities encounter harassment filtered through racism, leaving them doubly exposed. Girls from migrant backgrounds often struggle to navigate support in a system not designed for them. Girls who identify as LGBTQ+ face targeted slurs and institutional indifference. Safety is unevenly distributed along lines of identity.

The social lesson absorbed is clear: silence protects. Many girls learn that to speak up is to risk dismissal or retaliation. Perpetrators, rarely punished, continue unchecked. Institutional inertia functions as complicity. Harassment becomes not only tolerated but protected.

Cuts to youth services and education budgets deepen these failures. Schools and councils lack trained staff and resources to ensure robust safeguarding. Counselling services are underfunded, leaving traumatised girls with little support. Austerity translates into daily insecurity. Political decisions manufacture danger.

A 16-year-old explained, ‘We’re told to be resilient. But why should we be the ones to adapt? Why can’t the system change?

Lynn

Addressing harassment in schools and public spaces demands more than slogans or one-off initiatives. It requires structural reform: mandatory staff training, robust accountability, inclusive reporting mechanisms, and investment in prevention. Safety cannot be optional or conditional. Girls have a right to live and learn without fear. Government inaction transforms schools and streets into unsafe environments by design.

Online Harm, Offline Consequences

The Girlguiding 2024 survey reports that 77 per cent of girls have experienced online harm, from unsolicited sexual images to hate speech and digital stalking. Online spaces, promoted as opportunities for learning and self-expression, have become arenas of misogyny and intimidation. For many girls, logging in means preparing for abuse. Digital violence is not separate from daily life; it permeates classrooms, homes, and relationships. The distinction between online and offline safety no longer exists.

A 17-year-old explained, ‘I stopped posting online. It was the only way to feel safe.

Lottie

Girls describe how image filters, algorithms, and AI-generated deepfakes place them under constant scrutiny. Technology amplifies surveillance of their bodies and subjects them to new forms of exploitation. Online harassment often extends into threats of offline harm, creating a cycle of fear. Many girls withdraw from platforms to protect themselves, effectively silencing their voices. Others remain but censor their behaviour, limiting freedom of expression.

The NSPCC has criticised the government’s Online Safety Act, arguing that it prioritises debates over free expression while neglecting children’s safety. Regulatory frameworks are weak, enforcement is inconsistent, and accountability mechanisms are limited. Platforms continue to profit from engagement, even when that engagement is driven by harassment and abuse. Girls carry the psychological cost while corporations reap financial gain. This is a design choice, not an accident.

Intersectional inequalities magnify the crisis. Girls from Black and racialised communities report disproportionately high levels of racist and sexist abuse. Girls with disabilities describe being mocked, infantilised, or excluded online. Girls from migrant backgrounds are targeted with xenophobic harassment alongside misogyny. Girls who identify as LGBTQ+ face elevated rates of hate speech and threats. Digital misogyny reproduces and compounds offline hierarchies.

Global evidence reinforces that Britain is part of a wider pattern. In the United States, a 2022 Pew study found that 67 per cent of teenage girls reported online harassment, often linked to anxiety and depression. In India, Plan International research revealed that 58 per cent of adolescent girls had experienced online abuse, leading many to delete accounts. In Nigeria, surveys show that 60 per cent of girls face online sexual harassment. Across contexts, digital platforms have become theatres of gendered violence.

One 16-year-old told researchers she deletes messages without reading them: ‘It’s easier to ignore than report, because reporting doesn’t work.

Claire

Online abuse has tangible offline consequences. Victims report insomnia, declining academic performance, and withdrawal from social life. The sense of being hyper-visible creates anxiety that extends beyond the screen. For some, ambitions are eroded as confidence collapses. Digital trauma constrains futures as surely as physical violence.

Schools and safeguarding systems often dismiss online abuse as outside their remit. Teachers claim it happens beyond school hours or in private digital spaces. This narrow interpretation leaves girls unprotected. When online abuse is trivialised, it legitimises harassment in classrooms and corridors. Digital misogyny becomes an extension of institutional neglect.

The CEDAW Committee (2023) condemned the UK for failing to protect children from violence in both digital and physical spaces. Their critique exposes how fragmented strategies cannot meet the scale of the crisis. Britain is falling short of its international obligations to regulate digital environments. The absence of accountability is itself a form of violence. Neglect is not passive; it is structural.

Tech companies’ complicity is central to this story. Algorithms amplify harmful content because outrage drives engagement. Corporate profit relies on misogyny as much as on advertising revenue. Girls are told to block, report, or log off, shifting responsibility onto victims. Meanwhile, perpetrators face little consequence. Profit margins are prioritised over protection.

Grassroots resistance is growing. Girls organise hashtags, petitions, and campaigns to demand regulation and accountability. Feminist organisations provide resources to help reclaim online spaces. Yet activism cannot substitute for systemic reform. Expecting adolescents to fix the failures of billion-pound corporations and government regulators is unjust. Responsibility belongs to the state.

Globally, the demand is the same: regulate platforms, prioritise children’s rights, and treat digital misogyny as an urgent crisis. Latin American feminists document coordinated disinformation campaigns targeting young women activists. Middle Eastern youth describe defamation and digital surveillance as tools of silencing. These experiences echo those of British girls navigating similar harms. Misogyny is global, but the UK’s failure to regulate is a scandal of neglect.

The conclusion is clear: online harms create offline consequences that shape the trajectory of girls’ lives. Digital safety cannot depend on individual coping strategies or voluntary corporate codes. Accountability must be enforceable, intersectional, and robust. Girls deserve to be safe both online and offline. Anything less is institutional betrayal.

Poverty and Inequality: The Classed Experience of Girlhood

The Girlguiding 2024 survey reveals that two in three girls in Britain are affected by the cost of living crisis, and one in four face period poverty. These figures show how economic deprivation intersects with gender, shaping adolescence in ways that undermine both dignity and opportunity. Misogyny is reinforced when poverty dictates whether a girl can attend school, join activities, or access healthcare. Yet policy rarely frames deprivation as a feminist issue. Instead, it is presented as an unavoidable collateral of austerity.

One 14-year-old said, ‘I miss school sometimes because we can’t always afford pads. I just tell the teacher I’m sick.

Lori

The Fawcett Society’s 2023 report on gender inequality and the cost of living confirms that women and girls are hardest hit by rising prices, precarious work, and weakened welfare. For adolescent girls, this translates into reduced educational opportunities and diminished social participation. Period poverty forces some to miss lessons altogether, a silent exclusion that accumulates into long-term disadvantage. These are not personal failings but structural outcomes of economic policy. Poverty is political.

The King’s College London Policy Institute has linked financial stress directly to declining mental health among young people. Girls in deprived households report higher rates of anxiety and depression, with many describing a sense of hopelessness about their future. Poverty becomes not just a question of resources but of psychological survival. Economic insecurity narrows horizons and undermines resilience. The cost-of-living crisis is also a mental health crisis.

Girls from working-class families are particularly vulnerable to these dynamics. They are more likely to be excluded from sports clubs, cultural activities, or educational trips that broaden horizons. For migrant families, austerity compounds language and cultural barriers. Girls from Black and racialised communities experience poverty through the lens of structural racism, making exclusions even sharper. For girls with disabilities, deprivation often intersects with the cost of care, producing additional barriers. Inequality is stratified across every axis of identity.

The impact of austerity has been devastating. Cuts to youth services, housing support, and school budgets have stripped away safety nets. In many areas, community centres and after-school clubs have disappeared entirely. Charitable initiatives attempt to fill the gap, but charity is no substitute for rights. When survival depends on donations, dignity is compromised. Austerity has been a political choice, and girls live with its consequences daily.

A 15-year-old in Birmingham explained, ‘I used to go to a youth club after school. It closed when funding was cut. Now I just go straight home.

Paula

International evidence shows that Britain is not alone. In sub-Saharan Africa, UNICEF reports that over half of adolescent girls face period poverty, forcing many to drop out of education. In India, one in five girls leaves school altogether when menstruation begins, citing lack of sanitary products and stigma. In Latin America, inflation has forced families to reduce girls’ access to healthcare and education first. Across contexts, poverty consistently undermines girls’ futures.

Yet Britain’s scandal lies in its pretence of progress. As a wealthy country, it has the resources to guarantee sanitary products, school meals, and welfare support. Instead, austerity has dismantled these protections, manufacturing precarity for generations of girls. Economic violence is a form of gender-based violence. When deprivation silences ambition, the state is complicit.

The stigma attached to poverty compounds harm. Period poverty, for example, is not just material but social, as shame prevents many girls from seeking help. Silence hides exclusion and makes deprivation invisible to policymakers. Girls learn early that their struggles are unworthy of recognition. Stigma is another form of control.

Grassroots resistance challenges this silence. Campaigns for free sanitary products in schools, for food security, and for investment in youth services are often led by young women themselves. They frame poverty as a structural injustice, not a private misfortune. Yet expecting adolescents to mobilise against austerity is unjust. Structural failures require structural solutions.

Globally, feminist economists describe poverty as “economic violence.” Latin American collectives argue that austerity is part of the continuum of gender-based oppression. African scholars highlight how structural adjustment programmes deepened gendered poverty across generations. These perspectives resonate in Britain, where austerity has reproduced inequality along lines of class, race, and gender. Poverty is not natural; it is designed.

Addressing the classed experience of girlhood requires transformative policy. Investment in welfare, universal provision of sanitary products, and access to extracurricular activities must be treated as rights, not privileges. Schools should be resourced to ensure inclusion rather than exclusion. Without redistribution, gender justice cannot be achieved. Poverty is not only an economic issue but a feminist one.

Climate Anxiety as Political Betrayal

The Girlguiding 2024 survey found that 64 per cent of girls believe the UK government holds the greatest responsibility for tackling climate change. This reflects both awareness and frustration: young people know the science, yet they see leaders delaying meaningful action. Eco-anxiety is not an abstract concept but a lived condition of fear, anger, and betrayal. Girls articulate that climate inaction compounds existing inequalities rather than reducing them. Their testimony exposes the gendered dimensions of environmental neglect.

A 16-year-old said, ‘I worry about climate change every day. Adults tell us to recycle, but they still approve new oil fields. It makes me feel hopeless.

Andy

For many adolescents, eco-anxiety manifests in sleepless nights, difficulty concentrating, and a sense that the future is collapsing before it arrives. Girls report feeling paralysed by the contradiction between government promises and ongoing fossil fuel investments. Cynicism grows as policies marketed as sustainable are undercut by airport expansions and oil licences. This contradiction communicates dishonesty rather than leadership. Climate anxiety becomes both psychological distress and political indictment.

Girls are more likely than boys to engage in climate activism, leading strikes, petitions, and local campaigns. Yet their efforts are often dismissed as youthful enthusiasm rather than urgent political intervention. This dismissal places responsibility back on the young while absolving leaders of accountability. In practice, girls are forced into the role of environmental defenders because institutions refuse to act. Their activism is survival, not choice.

The CEDAW Committee (2023) criticised the UK for failing to integrate gender into climate strategies. International law recognises that women and girls face disproportionate climate impacts due to pre-existing inequalities. Britain’s neglect of this knowledge is both negligent and discriminatory. Environmental harm is gendered harm. The government’s inaction cannot be excused as neutral.

Global studies show that this sense of betrayal is widely shared. A 2021 Lancet survey of 10,000 young people across ten countries found that 59 per cent were “very” or “extremely” worried about climate change, with girls reporting higher levels of anxiety. In Brazil, 67 per cent of adolescents said government inaction left them feeling betrayed. In India, 63 per cent expressed that climate decline made them feel unsafe about the future. Eco-anxiety is global, but the UK’s scandal is its failure to act despite wealth and capacity.

Girls in the Global South experience climate anxiety alongside immediate material threats. In East Africa, adolescent girls walk longer distances for water during droughts, increasing their exposure to harassment and violence. In the Pacific Islands, rising seas threaten not only homes but entire cultural identities. In Latin America, rural girls are leaving school as families struggle with climate-related agricultural collapse. For them, eco-anxiety is survival, not abstraction.

In Britain, climate anxiety is intensified by political dishonesty. Government rhetoric about “net zero” is contradicted by extractive policies that prioritise corporate profit. This deepens cynicism and communicates that girls’ futures are expendable. For young people, climate inaction is not simply failure; it is betrayal. Anger becomes as central as fear.

The psychological cost is significant. Rising eco-anxiety is reported in mental health services, yet therapeutic responses cannot address the political roots of distress. Counselling can soothe symptoms, but cannot reverse floods or prevent heatwaves. Without systemic action, therapy risks individualising a structural crisis. Girls want policy change, not platitudes.

Activism becomes a coping mechanism. From school strikes to community-led initiatives, girls create platforms for climate justice. These movements demonstrate resilience but also reveal the absence of institutional leadership. Their activism should not be romanticised as a solution. It is an emergency response to governmental neglect.

Intersectionality is crucial. Girls from working-class, migrant, and racialised communities are disproportionately affected by pollution, poor housing, and limited access to green spaces. These inequalities mean environmental harm is not distributed evenly. Climate neglect reproduces existing hierarchies under the guise of neutrality. Without an intersectional approach, climate policy will continue to fail those most at risk.

The intergenerational injustice is stark. Adults in power today will not live through the full impact of their decisions. Girls and young women will. This imbalance turns climate neglect into intergenerational misogyny: girls’ futures are treated as disposable. Governmental inaction is not only environmental betrayal but gendered violence.

The message from girls is consistent: they do not want resilience, they want accountability. Resilience may help them cope, but it will not lower emissions or protect coastlines. Hope is no substitute for systemic change. The UK government must be held to account for sacrificing its youngest citizens’ futures. Climate anxiety is a rational response to betrayal.

From Girls’ Resilience to Government Accountability

The evidence from the Girlguiding 2024 survey and supporting reports shows a systemic failure: girls are carrying the weight of state neglect. They are adapting routes home, curating online profiles, and organising climate strikes. These acts are often celebrated as resilience. But resilience is not a substitute for rights. When resilience is praised, state accountability is erased.

Resilience narratives risk romanticising survival strategies while obscuring political failure. When governments label girls as brave, they absolve themselves of responsibility. Girls should not have to absorb harassment, poverty, and eco-anxiety as if these were inevitable parts of life. Their energy should go to education, creativity, and joy. The burden of resilience must shift back onto institutions.

From schools to digital platforms, misogyny persists by design. The Ofsted 2021 review revealed that harassment was normalised in schools, while the EVAW 2023 report demonstrated that sexual violence remains decriminalised in practice. The CEDAW Committee (2023) confirmed Britain’s failure to meet international obligations. These findings converge: misogyny is institutional, not incidental. Girls live within an architecture of neglect.

Digital harms intensify this betrayal. The NSPCC’s critique of the Online Safety Act highlights how the law protects corporate interests rather than children. Platforms profit from misogyny while girls endure trauma. When regulators turn away, complicity is written into policy. Digital misogyny thrives on this silence.

Economic inequality sharpens the picture. The Fawcett Society (2023) and King’s College London research link austerity to diminished dignity and mental health. Period poverty and exclusion from opportunities are not private misfortunes but political outcomes. Poverty is economic violence against girls. Decisions made in Westminster cause deprivation.

Climate neglect compounds the crisis. The Lancet 2021 global survey found that most young people feel betrayed by government inaction, and girls in Britain echo this despair. Net-zero rhetoric is contradicted by fossil fuel expansion, leaving girls’ futures disposable. This is intergenerational misogyny: girls inherit the consequences of policies designed for profit. Climate anxiety is not weakness but a rational response to betrayal.

Across contexts, the testimony is consistent. From Britain to Brazil, from Nigeria to India, girls report fear, anger, and exclusion. Yet they also organise, campaign, and demand change. Their leadership is inspiring, but it should never have been required. Expecting adolescents to fill the gaps left by state neglect is unjust. Accountability must not rest on children’s shoulders.

What emerges is not a set of isolated failures but a systemic pattern. Misogyny is embedded in schools, streets, digital spaces, welfare systems, and climate policies. Britain’s scandal lies in its denial: pretending resilience is progress while abandoning its youngest citizens. Girls see through this dishonesty. Their testimony dismantles the myth of protection.

Intersectional reform is the only path forward. Safeguarding must address the realities of girls from Black and racialised communities, girls with disabilities, girls from migrant backgrounds, and girls who identify as LGBTQ+. Welfare systems must guarantee dignity. Climate policy must integrate gender justice. Without intersectionality, reforms will reproduce exclusion.

This is where readers come in. You can support Girlguiding campaigns, demand stronger safeguarding in schools, sign petitions against austerity cuts, and amplify the voices of young women leading climate and equality activism. You can pressure MPs to legislate accountability, not platitudes. Justice cannot be outsourced to girls. It is a collective duty.

Misogyny is a national crisis requiring structural solutions. Girls have spoken with clarity. Governments must respond not with slogans but with transformation. Resilience is not policy. Hope is not protection. Accountability cannot be optional. Anything less is betrayal.

References

End Violence Against Women Coalition. (2023). The decriminalisation of rape: How the justice system is failing survivors. End Violence Against Women. https://www.endviolenceagainstwomen.org.uk

Fawcett Society. (2023). The cost of living and gender inequality: How women and girls are being hit hardest. Fawcett Society. https://www.fawcettsociety.org.uk

Girlguiding. (2024). Girls’ Attitudes Survey 2024. Girlguiding UK. https://www.girlguiding.org.uk

King’s College London. (2023). Cost of living crisis: Impact on young people’s mental health. King’s College London Policy Institute. https://www.kcl.ac.uk

Ofsted. (2021). Review of sexual abuse in schools and colleges. Office for Standards in Education, Children’s Services and Skills. https://www.gov.uk/government/publications/review-of-sexual-abuse-in-schools-and-colleges

NSPCC. (2023). Children at risk online: NSPCC response to the Online Safety Bill. National Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Children. https://www.nspcc.org.uk

Plan International. (2020). The state of the world’s girls 2020: Free to be online? Girls’ and young women’s experiences of online harassment. Plan International. https://plan-international.org

Pew Research Centre. (2022). The state of online harassment: Young women face disproportionate abuse. Pew Research Centre. https://www.pewresearch.org

The Lancet. (Hickman, C., Marks, E., Pihkala, P., Clayton, S., Lewandowski, R. E., Mayall, E. E., Wray, B., Mellor, C., & van Susteren, L.). (2021). Climate anxiety in children and young people and their beliefs about government responses to climate change: A global survey. The Lancet Planetary Health, 5(12), e863–e873. https://doi.org/10.1016/S2542-5196(21)00278-3

United Nations Committee on the Elimination of Discrimination against Women. (2023). Concluding observations on the eighth periodic report of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland. United Nations CEDAW. https://tbinternet.ohchr.org

UNICEF. (2021). Menstrual health and hygiene in sub-Saharan Africa: A review of the evidence. UNICEF. https://www.unicef.org

UN Women. (2019). Safe cities and safe public spaces: Global results report. UN Women. https://www.unwomen.org

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