In her outstanding book, Perfect Girls, Starving Daughters, Courtney Martin, BC '02, writes that "We are the daughters of feminists who said ‘You can be anything,' and we heard ‘You have to be everything.'" Men hear it too—we all do—from our elders, from the media, from ourselves and from each other.

We heard it as children, watching the important adults in our lives try to be successful at their jobs while looking good and outdoing the neighbors along the way. TV told us that in order to be happy we have to be good-looking and funny and smart, and that anyone who wasn't all of the above was someone to be ridiculed (think of Screech). And then there was the college application process, when we were told that if we wanted to get anywhere, we had to do everything. Suddenly, having good grades wasn't enough. We had to have be virtuosos at the tuba, do community service, have incredible SAT scores and a perfect essay and even then we couldn't predict if that would be enough to get us somewhere like Columbia. And then we were told, by our parents or friends or at admitted students events, that everyone in college was at least as good at everything as we were, or probably better.

And then we came to Columbia, afraid that we were not going to be special enough compared to all the valedictorians, newspaper editors, first violinists and club presidents around us. And for some of us, that voice that was with us years before orientation or the first time we took the SAT got even louder—the voice of perfectionism, telling us directly that we have to excel and be unique and be like everyone else—but better. The refrain of "you have to be everything" became louder than any of the 3000 ads we see a day or the yells of our coaches or the competitive looks from our classmates during exams. It has developed a voice of its own, and today we students hear it everywhere.
Perfectionism may sound like this: You're smart but not pretty. You're pretty but not the president of a club. You don't have a boyfriend. What's wrong with you? Don't you know that you have to be everything? Oh, and that you have to do it without taking up too much space, while looking cute, listening to the right music, and getting perfect grades. Speaking of perfect, you have to be that, too. Otherwise, you're completely inadequate and no one will ever like you.

Or, the voice of perfectionism may be inaudible but nonetheless powerful. As I look out my window onto the Barnard quad, I see women in heels carrying huge piles of books, ostensibly heading to the library where they will study and try to attract guys who are too busy reading to notice them and apply to internships all at once. I see someone in workout clothes exit the Quad gate, only to return visibly exhausted hours later. I listen to the intelligent and uniquely gorgeous women on my hall discuss how they "need" to lose weight, and can't help but wonder if that girl I know is having trouble focusing because of her diet. Observing my fellow students, I cannot help but be scared because we really are convinced that we have to be everything—so much so that I wonder if we can believe anything else. Instead of criticizing each other and ourselves for trying to be perfect or for not being good enough, couldn't we just let ourselves be?

It's not a fault of ours, this drive to be perfect. It's what we've been taught, and perfectionists inherently want to please, but it's not the only way to exist. We don't have to please others, especially if we're sacrificing our own well-being in the process. Our grades or weight will not make anybody love us any more or less. In fact, focusing on these numbers might make us hate ourselves more. We can be happier—we just have to try to be kind to ourselves.

We'll be truly happy when we are satisfied with who we are—genuinely pleased because we feel good about the fact that we love what we're studying, because we let ourselves rest, because we wear what we want, because we eat what we want in order to be nourished, because we praise ourselves for trying our best without overdoing it and because we are proud of the unique and special individuals we have let ourselves become. When achievement is no longer the determinant for how good we are, we'll be able to fulfill our own special potentials and become stronger, happier and more of an individual than we ever imagined.

To begin, we will have to think, and actively listen to our honest responses: do we really want that Red Bull or does a nap sound better? Do we really want to wear those sexy heels or are they uncomfortable? Do we really want that salad, or are we craving a sandwich? What do we really want?

How does genuine happiness sound?

Marissa Mazek is a Barnard College junior majoring in English. The Rough Truth runs alternate Mondays. Opinion@columbiaspectator.com