I know I can’t be the only one who dreads summer — or at least, used to. Even though the term was coined a few years ago, the ripple effect of Hot Girl Summer still lingers. It’s meant to embody freedom, boldness, being outside — all the things. But for me, it never quite fit. There wasn’t space for rest. For softness. For me to gather my bearings because, by the time it was all said and done, I was overstimulated as hell. So I started having a Soft Girl Summer instead.
My version means slow, gentle routines that are sustainable for me. Black girl joy that doesn’t scream or twerk. Softness that no longer needs peer approval to feel real.
Why Summer Never Felt Right
Summer has always been a point of tension for me — not because I dislike the sun, but because I’ve always felt the pressure to be socially “on” 24/7. With longer daylight hours come more events, more tourists, more hustle, more noise. Everyone wants to know your plans — and when you don’t have concerts, festivals, or rooftop outings lined up, you feel small. Like a lame person. You don’t want to have to justify your quiet — or explain your autism — but you feel the judgment anyway. And you already know most people won’t understand that your plans are softer and quieter because that’s what actually feels good.
What My Soft Girl Summer Looks Like
It took growth, maturity, and a lot of self-reflection to figure out what my Soft Girl Summer looks like.
- Linen and cotton. Paper bag shorts and comfortable tees.
- Less movement. Less hustle. Less go-go-go.
- Turning down invitations when I’m already full — and learning how to do that without guilt.
It’s advocating for my needs, like asking for plans in advance so I can mentally prepare. (Last-minute invites still freeze me — I’m working on it.)
It’s giving myself permission to enjoy my hyperfixations and hobbies without making them performative.
It’s doing nothing and refusing to feel ashamed of that.
Sometimes it’s staying inside all day.
Other times, it’s a solo matinee at a nearly empty theater, a quiet morning at the thrifted bookstore, or brunch with a trusted friend at one of the more hole-in-the-wall spots. It doesn’t have to be loud to count as summer joy.
Rituals Over Routines
I don’t do routines — they feel too rigid. I call them rituals instead. And in my 30s, I’m realizing how essential they are. Not just for how I look, but for how I feel.
Some weekends, I move my body — softly.
No boot camps, no high impact, no shame.
Just mobility flows and stretches to shake off the stiffness from a week of desk work.
In the afternoons, I take breaks.
In the evenings, I light a candle, turn on my accent lighting, and let myself be.
Sometimes I journal. Sometimes I just think.
My bedroom is my sanctuary — designed to hold me, not impress anyone else. But it doesn’t end there. I’ve built small pockets of comfort throughout my home: a coffee bar, a juicer station, a little vibe that lets me feel held in my own life.
Everything I choose is with one question in mind:
Does this make me feel good?
Softness Is a Right
For neurodivergent people — especially autistic women — reclaiming summer is not optional. It’s how we survive it. Hot Girl Summer might be a trend, or a movement, or a moment that morphs into something else entirely. But Soft Girl Summer is something you can keep.
Choosing softness isn’t a consolation prize.
It’s a right.
We’re allowed to take up space in ways that don’t look loud, high-energy, or socially impressive.
There’s power in that, too.
Personally? My summers have gotten easier — and more enjoyable — ever since I gave myself permission to move through them softly.
Before You Go, A Few Gentle Questions
If this post resonated with you, I invite you to pause for a moment and consider:
- What does a soft summer look like for you?
- Are there any moments you’re craving more of this season?
- What’s one quiet joy you’ve been overlooking lately?
- What helps you feel most grounded when the world gets loud?
- If you gave yourself full permission to enjoy summer on your own terms, what would that look like?
You don’t have to answer them all—just the ones that linger.
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You’re not alone in choosing softness.