Photo by Sam Wong
Earlier this year two young Queensland women were filmed verbally and physically assaulting an half-blind indigenous pensioner on a bus. The resulting video introduced the world to Australia’s one truly unique contribution to the global douche cannon: the Australian mole. Most countries have loud, irritating, and offensive youths, but only we have the specific breed of scrag capable of committing a violent racist act while wearing $40 shoes, $300 sunglasses, and a cocktail dress made of hi-viz.
The mole shares several things in common with her male counterpart. She loves drinking, her mates, is not above punching someone in the face, and spends as pretty much the same amount of time getting dressed. She may appear to be indistinguishable from girls everywhere. Their dresses take cues from early 2000s Latin American Grammy Award winners. They get their tan in a can and they work in places with names like Ice, Magnetic, or Xposed. But what sets them apart is the pure primal aggression with which they enforce their suburban matriarchies, controlling everyone around them through a terrifying mix of heightened competitive sexuality, simmering violence, and a confidence derived from multiple watermelon Cruisers.
Moles roam in packs day and night. Before dark they stalk suburban malls in tracksuits and $40 worth of makeup, calling shop assistants bitches for not sharing their staff discount at Cotton On Body. When night falls they shed their fleecy skins and emerge as screeching and bedazzled butterflies. It’s maximum impact with zero body hair. Footballers’ wives without the footballer husbands. Weather girls who only ever dress for 36 and sunny. Ever wondered how Rebecca Judd can have a lifestyle website? This is why.
Photo by Bradley Scott
The cornerstone of their social interactions is alcohol. In the early evening they session with friends on the back decks of their parents. Living at home has its advantages: you never have to learn to do laundry, you get to use your parents’ good stereo to listen to Jason Derulo, and you can pour the savings into drinking RTDs with your BFFs every Friday and Saturday night.
They have highly complicated female friendships which were formed in the first few days of year seven, and tested over years of online passive aggression. You’ll know who they are before you meet them because of the thousands of selfies they post every time they come within 15 meters of a bathroom. You’ll also know what all their friend’s bathrooms look like—spoiler alert: purple towels. These are the people they get munted with before going out to meet the guys they will drink under the table. Drinking serves several purposes: it limbers you up enough to both flash the social photographer at Dome, and if the mood strikes, punch someone in the face.
To the outside it might look like a bunch of chicks smashing wet pussy shots and letting their 50 percent human hair down, but beneath the surface it’s anything but carefree. The Australian female douche is locked in a constant battle to keep up with the boys. Which means, humiliate which ever douchebag is screwing her at that moment.
Photo by Bradley Scott
She values strength above everything, so there’s no way she’s hooking up with a pussy—but at the same time she’s nobody’s bitch. To date her is to look good on her arm. Their boyfriends may be ‘roided up beef necks who king hit strangers after getting on the pingers, but at home they are dominated and deballed.
She drinks to be one of them, but also to dominate and destroy them. These relationships are special because there’s nothing the female douche loves more than belittling her significant other in front of their friends. All guys are completely whipped by these women. It’s kind of awesome. Next time you see a dude screaming, “Show us your minge” at an unsuspecting female at 3AM remember that there is a terrifying woman waiting for him at home to make fun of his weird dick while their mutual friends spit-laugh beer and Doritos.
Finally young women are able to oppose young men in some variety of level playing field. Obviously this is a good thing. But, Australian culture, inextricably binding the idea and practice of drinking to our national identity and as such, for many young Australians, most competition revolves around booze. The combination of drinking and being super uncomfortable in your outfit usually leads to one of two things, forcing your less hot friend to swap shoes with you, or fighting.
Photo by Sam Wong
These women love to fight. On any weekend at any club pumping the sick bass you will see two (or more) Moles throwing down. It doesn’t take much: Madison rooted Caz? Tegan spilled Amee’s Bacardi? Stacey clipped Sheryl’s Holden Barina? You better believe someone is going to get leveled. In other countries girl fights are all pushing and slapping, maybe some hair pulling. In Australia, after a lifetime’s training fending off Australian romantics, these fights are king hits, above the neck tackles, and beating on someone when they’re down and cowering. If there is one thing Australia teaches its young, it’s how to kick the shit out of each other.
What is it about Australia that breeds such a heightened sense of entitlement? Perhaps it’s because we own a continent with the population of a hamlet? Probably not, but growing up in a country where white wealth is the norm and excess is in supply it’s not surprising when people feel like they deserve it. We grow up expecting the best, and demand to be treated well. Unfortunately mixing this with a rugged outdoors culture of booze and fighting and you’re basically creating huge muscular toddlers whose tantrums lead to broken noses.
Generally fighting as a national pastime has been stamped out, unprovoked attacks – once an Aussie lifestyle choice, are being discouraged by public curfews, while penalties for violence in sport – again, once a celebrated tradition - are at an all time high. The only place our national desire to punch someone in the neck is alive and well is on the dancefloor on a Friday night. Because no amount of police presence, legislation, or positive role models is going to stop the Mole from teaching a bitch a lesson.
If we step back, there is something admirable in Australia’s hyper aggressive alpha females: their prioritisation of female friendships, dominance of submissive-yet-roided-up men, and physical prowess. It’s almost a testament to the power of woman—or at the very least the equality of men and women at their lowest ebb.
For more douchebags:
How Sad Young Douchebags Took Over Modern Britain