A feminist revisitation of Galentine’s Day

A feminist revisitation of Galentine’s Day

Stella has dark skin and long hair in braids. She is wearing a white shirt and sitting in a restaurant.
By: Stella Molinelli
Published on:
  • Article
  • Galentine’s

Estimated reading time: 6 minutes

What is Galentine’s Day?

Before it became a so-called ‘celebration of women,’ Galentine’s Day was a fictional concept, one that has since been transformed into a consumer ritual. Typically observed on February 13th, it was first introduced in 2009 in the television series Parks and Recreation.

The idea was presented through the character Leslie Knope, portrayed by Amy Poehler. In the now-iconic episode ‘Galentine’s Day,’ Leslie brings together a group of women, friends and strangers alike, for a deliberately over-the-top celebration of female friendship held at a local restaurant. The gathering is marked by excess and enthusiasm. Each woman is given a gift bag with hand-crocheted flower pens, a mosaic portrait assembled from crushed bottles of her favourite diet soda, and a lengthy personalised essay explaining why she is considered exceptional.

Leslie Knope is a blonde woman with pale skin - she's a character from Parks and Rec. Text reads: "What's Galentine's Day? Oh, it's only the best day of the year."

The exaggeration was the point: an affectionate parody of affirmation culture, excess, and Leslie Knope’s relentless optimism. Galentine’s Day was never intended to offer a blueprint for a real-world behaviour or an idealised model of womanhood. Yet as the concept migrated from television into everyday practice, its ironic distance was gradually lost. What began as a playful joke about friendship was later aestheticised and commodified, laying the groundwork for the cultural expectations now surrounding the holiday.

How did it gain popularity?

Galentine’s Day did not spread organically; it was amplified. As celebrities, influencers, and lifestyle media began to reference it, the fictional holiday acquired social credibility. Public acknowledgements by figures such as Michelle Obama helped propel it into mainstream culture, where it could be recognised, repeated, and ritualised.

Social media then reshaped the celebration entirely. Platforms built on visibility and performance translated Galentine’s Day into a set of images and expectations. Soft colour palettes, coordinated outfits, styled tables, curated menus, wine and cheese nights, pottery workshops, and gift exchanges came to define what participation was supposed to look like. Restaurants filled weeks in advance, while online tutorials offered guidance on hosting the “perfect” Galentine’s event.

The result? What began as a light-hearted joke was recast as a lifestyle event. Galentine’s Day became something to plan, purchase, and display, shaped by visibility, consumerism, and implicit forms of exclusion.

A feminist critique of galentine’s day

From a feminist perspective, Galentine’s Day, as it is currently popularised, warrants scrutiny.

This is not a rejection of affection, creativity, or collective joy, nor a dismissal of celebration itself. Rather, it interrogates the conditions under which celebration is increasingly permitted to exist. At its core, this critique addresses consumerism and the subtle social pressures that dictate how participation should look, feel, and be publicly performed, shaping Galentine’s Day around dominant norms rather than the diversity of women’s lived experiences.

In mainstream culture, the holiday centres a narrow and socially legible version of womanhood: polished, feminine, heteronormative, socially connected, and financially comfortable. It assumes stability in gender identity, comfort within traditional femininity, and access to the economic and social resources that make participation possible. Those who are questioning their sexuality or gender, who exist outside binary frameworks, or who do not recognise themselves in conventional scripts of womanhood are largely absent from this narrative. It also excludes considerations of racial marginalisation, class, ability, or caregiving responsibilities, which shape who can realistically participate.

The visual language surrounding Galentine’s Day reinforces this narrowing. Pink palettes, “cute” symbolism, and hyper-curated performances of closeness do more than decorate the celebration; they communicate expectations about how women should appear, relate, and express intimacy. Rather than expanding the possibilities of womanhood, these repeated codes compress it into something uniform, decorative, and easily consumable, inadvertently reinscribing stereotypes feminist politics aims to dismantle.

This narrowing is compounded by the growing pressure to participate. What might otherwise be a voluntary moment of connection increasingly operates as a social obligation: to host, attend, spend, and be seen. Under these conditions, celebration risks producing comparison and fatigue rather than care or belonging.

Finally, questions of purpose and authenticity remain. Is Galentine’s Day a genuine challenge to romantic hierarchies, or a softened response to Valentine’s Day that leaves existing systems of value intact? When friendship becomes something to stage and display, intimacy risks turning into performance.

Rethinking how we celebrate friendship

Friendship does not need to be visible to be real. It exists in care, attention, and the quiet ways people remain present for one another, even when no one is watching.

Celebration can be small, private, and ordinary. It can happen at home, alone, or with someone you trust. It does not require money, gifts, or social validation. If you do not have friends to celebrate with, that does not mean you are inadequate or unloved. Solitude can be a time of transition, growth and self-reflection.

Access to traditional celebrations is uneven. Economic precarity, caregiving responsibilities, disability, racial or cultural marginalisation, and differing gender all shape how connection is experienced. A feminist approach values these diverse experiences rather than enforcing uniform, performative rituals.

Practical alternatives can include:

  • Writing a note of appreciation to a friend, near or far.
  • Sharing a meal, walk, or online call with someone you trust.
  • Practicing self-care or reflecting on relationships that sustain you.
  • Creating a small, inclusive ritual with loved ones (e.g. watching a movie together).

If you choose to mark the day, do so with kindness toward yourself. Let it be gentle and honest. If you celebrate with others, allow it to be simple. What matters is care, not performance.

A call to action

Galentine’s Day does not need to be rejected, but it does need to be questioned. Be critical of what you consume, celebrate, and share, and remember that social media offers a curated reality, not the full truth. Feminism is not aesthetic performance, but care, inclusivity, autonomy, and resistance to commodification. Celebrate friendship on your own terms, or not at all.

Both choices are feminist.

Stella has dark skin and long hair in braids. She is wearing a white shirt and sitting in a restaurant.

Stella Molinelli

Stella Molinelli is an International Relations and Arabic student at the University of St Andrews, with a strong interest in intersectional approaches to security studies and humanitarian development.

Her research focus includes terrorism, ethical artificial intelligence, and trauma-informed support for vulnerable communities. She is part of the Young Women Lead AI programme and is actively involved in outreach and tutoring initiatives aimed at empowering youth and refugee communities affected by conflict and displacement.

Related posts