What Selling Girl Scout Cookies Really Teaches Young Girls About Success
Remember the days when you’d be curled up on the couch, watching Saturday Night Live, only to hear a faint knock at the door? You’d grab a robe, peek through the peephole, and find a little girl on your doorstep wearing a green sash, badges gleaming, asking sweetly, “Hi, I’m a Girl Scout! Would you like to buy some cookies?” It felt like something out of a TV ad—charming, innocent, almost perfect. For many, this moment is a nostalgic reminder of childhood and community, but for those of us who lived it, the reality wasn’t as lighthearted as it seemed.
As a former Girl Scout who spent nearly three years participating in the infamous cookie-selling season, I can tell you the experience went far beyond little uniforms and weekend outings. Behind the scenes, cookie-selling was more than a casual fundraiser—it was a training ground where young girls were coached to embody society’s ideals of charm, salesmanship, and commercial success. The weekends turned into long shifts walking around neighborhoods on foot or at folding tables outside grocery stores. Friendly competitions to meet sales quotas, and the underlying realization that the youngest girls, with their 'cuteness' factor, had the greatest success. Suddenly, my friends and I were no longer just kids selling cookies but miniature salespeople, primed to meet societal expectations in ways that prioritized compliance and external approval.
As a little girl, I was drawn to the idea of being a Girl Scout—not so much for the badges or the uniforms, but because it was the ultimate “it” club. It felt like an instant ticket to a ready-made friend group, complete with scheduled playdates after school and weekend adventures. From my mom’s perspective, though, Girl Scouts was all about molding me into a well-rounded kid—a character-building boot camp of sorts, designed to teach me about goals, integrity, and perseverance. Looking back now, I’m glad I threw myself into it with so much enthusiasm, but I can’t help but wonder: how much of what I learned truly shaped the woman I’ve become today?
The Girl Scouts’ original mission, established by founder Juliette Gordon Low, was to empower girls through skills in outdoor survival, teamwork, and self-reliance. Low’s vision in 1912 was a progressive one for her time: to cultivate independence and resilience in girls who would challenge the norms of early 20th-century America. Now more than fifty million women and girls in over 152 countries have belonged to the organization since its founding on March 12, 1912 (Girl Scouts USA). While grounded in values of community and character-building, the Girl Scout cookie-selling experience serves as a subtle vehicle for instilling societal norms of consumerism and charm in young girls. Through this program, I was taught that success depends not on the effort itself but on their ability to conform to an appealing image that aligns with social expectations of femininity.
On the surface, the Girl Scout Cookie Program might seem like a fun, wholesome way to teach young girls entrepreneurial skills. According to the Girl Scouts’ official website, the cookie sales aim to instill "entrepreneurial skills and build leadership" by giving girls hands-on experience in business. This sounds ideal in theory, a way to empower girls by exposing them to real-world concepts of marketing and money management. But for me, cookie sales eventually became a bit robotic. Every day after school during cookie season, I’d walk around the neighborhood for two hours until sundown, knocking on doors and hoping someone would answer. After dozens of interactions, the words started to fall out of my mouth automatically, and the innocent grin somehow appeared on cue. Honestly, I’m not sure what part of me, as a little girl, felt so composed to do this day after day. Maybe it was the sense of human connection, the thrill of talking to strangers, or the satisfaction of persuading someone to buy a product.
An article on the organization’s history notes that Low “envisioned a community where girls could combine work, play, and values to become active, modern women” ("Juliette Gordon Low Had a Dream"). Yet, as much as the Girl Scouts claim to foster entrepreneurial skills and self-confidence, scholar Sherry R. Schwartz argues that the reality often falls short. She points out that cookie sales place “unprecedented pressure” on young girls to focus on profits, image, and sales, rather than on personal growth and genuine self-esteem (Schwartz). I see this tension reflected in my own experiences—while I did learn some valuable lessons in persistence and communication, I also felt the weight of meeting external expectations. The emphasis on high sales subtly links a girl’s self-worth to her ability to succeed within this consumer-driven system, making charm and sales quotas more important than skills or personal satisfaction. In a way, today’s Girl Scouts might be gaining entrepreneurial knowledge, but they’re also absorbing a consumerist mindset, one that equates their value with sales rather than their own growth. As commercialization increasingly shapes the organization, many Girl Scouts—like I once was—find themselves experiencing leadership development that feels more transactional than transformational. This shift from personal growth to external achievement becomes even more apparent when we consider the scale of the Girl Scout cookie program.
Hailed as one of the largest girl-led entrepreneurial efforts in the world, the Girl Scout cookie program walks a fine line between empowerment and exploitation. In 2020 alone, it generated nearly $800 million from the sale of over 200 million boxes of cookies—a staggering testament to its economic reach (Girl Scouts USA). My troop, a tight-knit group of 15 girls led by two devoted troop leaders, was swept up in this industrious spirit. For me, the real thrill wasn’t just about selling cookies—it was about chasing the prizes. The incentives began small: a pin for selling 25 boxes, a deck of cards at 170, a beach towel at 400. But the ultimate prize, the one I became fixated on, was tickets to Six Flags Hurricane Harbor for selling 500 boxes. I was laser-focused on hitting that goal, oblivious to the bigger picture. Each box sold for $6, meaning my sales alone generated $3,000 for the organization. Yet all I received in return were trinkets and tickets whose value didn’t come close to the effort I put in. Back then, I didn’t think twice about it. I was driven by recognition and the desire to be seen as a “good Girl Scout.” The fairness of the arrangement—or the worth of my labor—never crossed my mind. But now, I also see the deeper truth: how easily economic exploitation can be disguised as empowerment. The system thrived on our enthusiasm and hard work, yet the rewards always seemed to favor the institution over the individual.
And behind every box of cookies I sold was my mom, whose tireless support made my achievements possible. In many ways, she poured even more time and energy into cookie sales than I did, embodying the unspoken labor that so often falls on mothers in programs like this. Over 80% of Girl Scout parents or guardians report actively supporting cookie campaigns by managing inventory, handling finances, or ensuring safety during sales (Girl Scouts USA). My mom didn’t just embody this statistic—she surpassed it. She became my silent partner, ensuring every detail of our operation ran smoothly. While I knocked on doors or pitched cookies outside grocery stores, she was always nearby, watching from the bottom of the stairs or just out of sight to make sure I was safe. She tracked our cash flow, calculated totals, and prepped exact change for every transaction—tasks far beyond the math skills of a nine-year-old. Her silver SUV transformed into a mobile cookie warehouse, packed with Thin Mints, Trefoils, and Samoas, while our dining room table became a command center where she meticulously reviewed my order sheets to ensure no one received the wrong number of boxes. In many ways, she wasn’t just supporting me; she was fully immersed in the Girl Scout experience herself, embodying the role with as much dedication as if she were earning the badges.
When I asked my mom about her experience years later, she admitted, “I loved helping you, but honestly, it felt like I was running a second job sometimes. I wanted you to succeed and learn, even if it meant putting in a lot of effort myself.” Hearing her words now, I realize the cookie program isn’t just a test of a girl’s tenacity—it’s also an unspoken extension of parental labor, particularly for mothers, who shoulder much of the behind-the-scenes work. NowI am profoundly grateful for my mom’s unwavering dedication. She didn’t just help me sell cookies; she showed me what commitment and selflessness looks like. Her effort wasn’t just about hitting quotas or earning prizes—it was about teaching me the value of hard work, support, and growth, even when it meant sacrificing her own time and energy And I definitely see how selling cookies taught me perseverance, adaptability, and confidence—skills that undeniably shaped me. I can still vividly remember the nerves of approaching strangers or knocking on doors and the pride I felt each time someone said “yes.” As Schwartz points out in her study, Exploring the Relationship Between Girl Scout Values and the Cookie Program: A Qualitative Study, 88% of Girl Scouts report that the cookie program helps build confidence in public speaking and goal-setting. I’m part of that 88%. Those sales did teach me resilience, even if I don’t remember every detail of how I developed it.
As I reflect on the lessons I learned through the Girl Scout cookie program, I realize that not all of them were as empowering as they seemed. While the sales model promotes financial independence in young women, it is complicated by its reliance on superficial standards of femininity. In online forums like Reddit, I’ve found that many former Girl Scouts share similar experiences of how their cookie-selling success dwindled as they grew older. In one thread titled Girl Scouts Are a Creepy Scam, a commenter bluntly noted, “No one wants to buy cookies from teenage girls! They want those cute little girls! That’s the whole point.” This comment reveals a significant shift that occurs as girls age out of the “cute” Brownie phase: as they enter their teenage years, they lose the appeal that made them successful in the first place. Instead of being valued for their hard work or sales skills, older girls are pressured to embody ideals of innocence and charm—qualities often associated with younger girls. This shift not only undermines the effort and skills of older Girl Scouts but also reinforces societal pressures, teaching girls that their success—and even their worth—depends on meeting superficial standards of appearance and youthfulness, rather than their abilities or perseverance. Personally, I stopped selling cookies around age 12, never experiencing the struggle of trying to sell as a teenager. But looking back, I can’t help but wonder if my success as a younger girl was rooted in how “cute” I appeared to buyers.
The emphasis on cookie sales also reflects a broader contrast between the Girl Scouts and Boy Scouts, revealing how gendered expectations shape the design and focus of these programs. While the Boy Scouts prioritize badges centered on physical skills, survival, and self-reliance, the Girl Scouts emphasize consumer engagement and community interaction, aligning with traditionally feminine traits like likability and approachability. Mary Jane Kehily captured this contrast perfectly when she wrote, “Boy Scouts traditionally promote badges related to self-sufficiency and physical skills, while Girl Scouts emphasize community engagement and sales.” Looking back, it’s clear to me how even well-intentioned programs often reinforce patriarchal societal norms.
Thinking about this contrast, I spoke to one of my best friends, Colin, who participated in the Boy Scouts for years. When I shared my experiences selling cookies and relying on charm to meet sales goals, Colin offered a different perspective. “The focus was always on how we could build something or survive on our own,” he said. “The biggest challenge was proving we could do things independently, without asking for help. I never felt like anyone was judging us based on how we looked.” Colin’s comment hit me. It highlighted just how much my Girl Scout experience revolved around external validation—whether through buyer approval or by hitting a quota. For Colin, the emphasis was on mastering skills and earning badges through personal achievement, free of the kind of societal expectations that shape the Girl Scouts for young girls. This dichotomy illustrates the broader messages we absorb as children: boys are prepared to navigate the world on their own terms, while girls are subtly taught to align their success with how others perceive them.
In response to criticism, the Girl Scouts have worked to modernize their program, introducing badges that focus on social awareness, environmental responsibility, and leadership. I recently came across an article titled 24 New Badges Designed to Help Girls Lead in a Time of Unprecedented Global Change, which described how these new badges encourage girls to “take action on issues they care about.” Reading this, I felt a mix of hope and nostalgia. It’s comforting to see the organization embracing values like advocacy and social impact, but it also made me think about my own time as a Girl Scout. For me, the memories are dominated by cookie sales—there were no badges for activism or leadership in my experience, at least not in ways that felt as central as selling Thin Mints. And I know I’m not alone in this. For many former Scouts, cookie season defines their time in the organization, which speaks to just how central—and limiting—the cookie program has been to the Girl Scouts’ identity. While these updates are a step forward, they also make me wonder how different my experience might have been if advocacy had taken the spotlight instead of sales.
As I reflect on my green sash, with troop number 6125 proudly displayed alongside the Girl Scouts Greater Los Angeles logo, I am reminded of the patches beneath—each one representing a lesson or achievement, many tied more to social skills than tangible leadership or survival abilities. What stands out most are the lessons in how to approach strangers, speak confidently, and remain composed in unfamiliar situations. These experiences laid the foundation for my social skills and entrepreneurial mindset—how to set goals, strategize, and connect with others. While I recognize now that the emphasis on “cuteness” often overshadowed these more practical lessons, I can still appreciate the confidence it gave me to engage with people and the courage to face challenges. Research backs this up, too: a 2021 survey from the Girl Scouts of the USA found that 80% of Girl Scouts reported gaining confidence and leadership skills, with 75% citing the program as instrumental in developing critical thinking and decision-making. Although the program reinforced gendered expectations, rewarding likability over ingenuity, I can’t dismiss the profound impact it had on me. It wasn’t perfect, but it gave me a deeper appreciation for community involvement and taught me to navigate the world with confidence and curiosity—skills and values I carry with me today. My Girl Scout journey, for all its complexities, remains a largely positive influence, and like many alumni, I’m grateful for the memories and lessons it provided.
Works Consulted
As a former Girl Scout who spent nearly three years participating in the infamous cookie-selling season, I can tell you the experience went far beyond little uniforms and weekend outings. Behind the scenes, cookie-selling was more than a casual fundraiser—it was a training ground where young girls were coached to embody society’s ideals of charm, salesmanship, and commercial success. The weekends turned into long shifts walking around neighborhoods on foot or at folding tables outside grocery stores. Friendly competitions to meet sales quotas, and the underlying realization that the youngest girls, with their 'cuteness' factor, had the greatest success. Suddenly, my friends and I were no longer just kids selling cookies but miniature salespeople, primed to meet societal expectations in ways that prioritized compliance and external approval.
As a little girl, I was drawn to the idea of being a Girl Scout—not so much for the badges or the uniforms, but because it was the ultimate “it” club. It felt like an instant ticket to a ready-made friend group, complete with scheduled playdates after school and weekend adventures. From my mom’s perspective, though, Girl Scouts was all about molding me into a well-rounded kid—a character-building boot camp of sorts, designed to teach me about goals, integrity, and perseverance. Looking back now, I’m glad I threw myself into it with so much enthusiasm, but I can’t help but wonder: how much of what I learned truly shaped the woman I’ve become today?
The Girl Scouts’ original mission, established by founder Juliette Gordon Low, was to empower girls through skills in outdoor survival, teamwork, and self-reliance. Low’s vision in 1912 was a progressive one for her time: to cultivate independence and resilience in girls who would challenge the norms of early 20th-century America. Now more than fifty million women and girls in over 152 countries have belonged to the organization since its founding on March 12, 1912 (Girl Scouts USA). While grounded in values of community and character-building, the Girl Scout cookie-selling experience serves as a subtle vehicle for instilling societal norms of consumerism and charm in young girls. Through this program, I was taught that success depends not on the effort itself but on their ability to conform to an appealing image that aligns with social expectations of femininity.
On the surface, the Girl Scout Cookie Program might seem like a fun, wholesome way to teach young girls entrepreneurial skills. According to the Girl Scouts’ official website, the cookie sales aim to instill "entrepreneurial skills and build leadership" by giving girls hands-on experience in business. This sounds ideal in theory, a way to empower girls by exposing them to real-world concepts of marketing and money management. But for me, cookie sales eventually became a bit robotic. Every day after school during cookie season, I’d walk around the neighborhood for two hours until sundown, knocking on doors and hoping someone would answer. After dozens of interactions, the words started to fall out of my mouth automatically, and the innocent grin somehow appeared on cue. Honestly, I’m not sure what part of me, as a little girl, felt so composed to do this day after day. Maybe it was the sense of human connection, the thrill of talking to strangers, or the satisfaction of persuading someone to buy a product.
An article on the organization’s history notes that Low “envisioned a community where girls could combine work, play, and values to become active, modern women” ("Juliette Gordon Low Had a Dream"). Yet, as much as the Girl Scouts claim to foster entrepreneurial skills and self-confidence, scholar Sherry R. Schwartz argues that the reality often falls short. She points out that cookie sales place “unprecedented pressure” on young girls to focus on profits, image, and sales, rather than on personal growth and genuine self-esteem (Schwartz). I see this tension reflected in my own experiences—while I did learn some valuable lessons in persistence and communication, I also felt the weight of meeting external expectations. The emphasis on high sales subtly links a girl’s self-worth to her ability to succeed within this consumer-driven system, making charm and sales quotas more important than skills or personal satisfaction. In a way, today’s Girl Scouts might be gaining entrepreneurial knowledge, but they’re also absorbing a consumerist mindset, one that equates their value with sales rather than their own growth. As commercialization increasingly shapes the organization, many Girl Scouts—like I once was—find themselves experiencing leadership development that feels more transactional than transformational. This shift from personal growth to external achievement becomes even more apparent when we consider the scale of the Girl Scout cookie program.
Hailed as one of the largest girl-led entrepreneurial efforts in the world, the Girl Scout cookie program walks a fine line between empowerment and exploitation. In 2020 alone, it generated nearly $800 million from the sale of over 200 million boxes of cookies—a staggering testament to its economic reach (Girl Scouts USA). My troop, a tight-knit group of 15 girls led by two devoted troop leaders, was swept up in this industrious spirit. For me, the real thrill wasn’t just about selling cookies—it was about chasing the prizes. The incentives began small: a pin for selling 25 boxes, a deck of cards at 170, a beach towel at 400. But the ultimate prize, the one I became fixated on, was tickets to Six Flags Hurricane Harbor for selling 500 boxes. I was laser-focused on hitting that goal, oblivious to the bigger picture. Each box sold for $6, meaning my sales alone generated $3,000 for the organization. Yet all I received in return were trinkets and tickets whose value didn’t come close to the effort I put in. Back then, I didn’t think twice about it. I was driven by recognition and the desire to be seen as a “good Girl Scout.” The fairness of the arrangement—or the worth of my labor—never crossed my mind. But now, I also see the deeper truth: how easily economic exploitation can be disguised as empowerment. The system thrived on our enthusiasm and hard work, yet the rewards always seemed to favor the institution over the individual.
And behind every box of cookies I sold was my mom, whose tireless support made my achievements possible. In many ways, she poured even more time and energy into cookie sales than I did, embodying the unspoken labor that so often falls on mothers in programs like this. Over 80% of Girl Scout parents or guardians report actively supporting cookie campaigns by managing inventory, handling finances, or ensuring safety during sales (Girl Scouts USA). My mom didn’t just embody this statistic—she surpassed it. She became my silent partner, ensuring every detail of our operation ran smoothly. While I knocked on doors or pitched cookies outside grocery stores, she was always nearby, watching from the bottom of the stairs or just out of sight to make sure I was safe. She tracked our cash flow, calculated totals, and prepped exact change for every transaction—tasks far beyond the math skills of a nine-year-old. Her silver SUV transformed into a mobile cookie warehouse, packed with Thin Mints, Trefoils, and Samoas, while our dining room table became a command center where she meticulously reviewed my order sheets to ensure no one received the wrong number of boxes. In many ways, she wasn’t just supporting me; she was fully immersed in the Girl Scout experience herself, embodying the role with as much dedication as if she were earning the badges.
When I asked my mom about her experience years later, she admitted, “I loved helping you, but honestly, it felt like I was running a second job sometimes. I wanted you to succeed and learn, even if it meant putting in a lot of effort myself.” Hearing her words now, I realize the cookie program isn’t just a test of a girl’s tenacity—it’s also an unspoken extension of parental labor, particularly for mothers, who shoulder much of the behind-the-scenes work. NowI am profoundly grateful for my mom’s unwavering dedication. She didn’t just help me sell cookies; she showed me what commitment and selflessness looks like. Her effort wasn’t just about hitting quotas or earning prizes—it was about teaching me the value of hard work, support, and growth, even when it meant sacrificing her own time and energy And I definitely see how selling cookies taught me perseverance, adaptability, and confidence—skills that undeniably shaped me. I can still vividly remember the nerves of approaching strangers or knocking on doors and the pride I felt each time someone said “yes.” As Schwartz points out in her study, Exploring the Relationship Between Girl Scout Values and the Cookie Program: A Qualitative Study, 88% of Girl Scouts report that the cookie program helps build confidence in public speaking and goal-setting. I’m part of that 88%. Those sales did teach me resilience, even if I don’t remember every detail of how I developed it.
As I reflect on the lessons I learned through the Girl Scout cookie program, I realize that not all of them were as empowering as they seemed. While the sales model promotes financial independence in young women, it is complicated by its reliance on superficial standards of femininity. In online forums like Reddit, I’ve found that many former Girl Scouts share similar experiences of how their cookie-selling success dwindled as they grew older. In one thread titled Girl Scouts Are a Creepy Scam, a commenter bluntly noted, “No one wants to buy cookies from teenage girls! They want those cute little girls! That’s the whole point.” This comment reveals a significant shift that occurs as girls age out of the “cute” Brownie phase: as they enter their teenage years, they lose the appeal that made them successful in the first place. Instead of being valued for their hard work or sales skills, older girls are pressured to embody ideals of innocence and charm—qualities often associated with younger girls. This shift not only undermines the effort and skills of older Girl Scouts but also reinforces societal pressures, teaching girls that their success—and even their worth—depends on meeting superficial standards of appearance and youthfulness, rather than their abilities or perseverance. Personally, I stopped selling cookies around age 12, never experiencing the struggle of trying to sell as a teenager. But looking back, I can’t help but wonder if my success as a younger girl was rooted in how “cute” I appeared to buyers.
The emphasis on cookie sales also reflects a broader contrast between the Girl Scouts and Boy Scouts, revealing how gendered expectations shape the design and focus of these programs. While the Boy Scouts prioritize badges centered on physical skills, survival, and self-reliance, the Girl Scouts emphasize consumer engagement and community interaction, aligning with traditionally feminine traits like likability and approachability. Mary Jane Kehily captured this contrast perfectly when she wrote, “Boy Scouts traditionally promote badges related to self-sufficiency and physical skills, while Girl Scouts emphasize community engagement and sales.” Looking back, it’s clear to me how even well-intentioned programs often reinforce patriarchal societal norms.
Thinking about this contrast, I spoke to one of my best friends, Colin, who participated in the Boy Scouts for years. When I shared my experiences selling cookies and relying on charm to meet sales goals, Colin offered a different perspective. “The focus was always on how we could build something or survive on our own,” he said. “The biggest challenge was proving we could do things independently, without asking for help. I never felt like anyone was judging us based on how we looked.” Colin’s comment hit me. It highlighted just how much my Girl Scout experience revolved around external validation—whether through buyer approval or by hitting a quota. For Colin, the emphasis was on mastering skills and earning badges through personal achievement, free of the kind of societal expectations that shape the Girl Scouts for young girls. This dichotomy illustrates the broader messages we absorb as children: boys are prepared to navigate the world on their own terms, while girls are subtly taught to align their success with how others perceive them.
In response to criticism, the Girl Scouts have worked to modernize their program, introducing badges that focus on social awareness, environmental responsibility, and leadership. I recently came across an article titled 24 New Badges Designed to Help Girls Lead in a Time of Unprecedented Global Change, which described how these new badges encourage girls to “take action on issues they care about.” Reading this, I felt a mix of hope and nostalgia. It’s comforting to see the organization embracing values like advocacy and social impact, but it also made me think about my own time as a Girl Scout. For me, the memories are dominated by cookie sales—there were no badges for activism or leadership in my experience, at least not in ways that felt as central as selling Thin Mints. And I know I’m not alone in this. For many former Scouts, cookie season defines their time in the organization, which speaks to just how central—and limiting—the cookie program has been to the Girl Scouts’ identity. While these updates are a step forward, they also make me wonder how different my experience might have been if advocacy had taken the spotlight instead of sales.
As I reflect on my green sash, with troop number 6125 proudly displayed alongside the Girl Scouts Greater Los Angeles logo, I am reminded of the patches beneath—each one representing a lesson or achievement, many tied more to social skills than tangible leadership or survival abilities. What stands out most are the lessons in how to approach strangers, speak confidently, and remain composed in unfamiliar situations. These experiences laid the foundation for my social skills and entrepreneurial mindset—how to set goals, strategize, and connect with others. While I recognize now that the emphasis on “cuteness” often overshadowed these more practical lessons, I can still appreciate the confidence it gave me to engage with people and the courage to face challenges. Research backs this up, too: a 2021 survey from the Girl Scouts of the USA found that 80% of Girl Scouts reported gaining confidence and leadership skills, with 75% citing the program as instrumental in developing critical thinking and decision-making. Although the program reinforced gendered expectations, rewarding likability over ingenuity, I can’t dismiss the profound impact it had on me. It wasn’t perfect, but it gave me a deeper appreciation for community involvement and taught me to navigate the world with confidence and curiosity—skills and values I carry with me today. My Girl Scout journey, for all its complexities, remains a largely positive influence, and like many alumni, I’m grateful for the memories and lessons it provided.
Works Consulted
- "Juliette Low Establishes First Girl Scout Troop." Appalachian History, 12 Mar. 2019, www.appalachianhistory.net/2019/03/juliette-low-establishes-first-girl.html.
- Taylor, Harry A. "Buried Truth: The Story of Girl Scouts." The Daily Progress, 6 Feb. 2019, https://dailyprogress.com/news/community/orangenews/opinion/buried-truth-the-story-of-girl-scouts/article_02f3d3f8-2a23-11e9-b518-233a274ec76b.html.
- Girl Scouts of Orange County. "Our History." Girl Scouts of Orange County, https://www.girlscoutsoc.org/en/discover/about/our-history.html.
- Reddit. "Girl Scouts Are a Creepy Scam." Reddit, 15 Mar. 2022, https://www.reddit.com/r/unpopularopinion/comments/tffkka/girl_scouts_are_a_creepy_scam/.
- Miller, Ashley. "What Boy Scouts Can Learn from Girl Scouts." Ms. Magazine, 19 July 2012, https://msmagazine.com/2012/07/19/what-boy-scouts-can-learn-from-girl-scouts/.
- "24 New Badges Designed to Help Girls Discover Their Passions." Girl Scouts Blog, 24 July 2020, https://blog.girlscouts.org/2020/07/24-new-badges-designed-to-help-girls.html.
- "Cookies Frequently Asked Questions." Girl Scouts, https://www.girlscouts.org/en/cookies/how-to-buy-cookies/cookies-frequently-asked-questions.html.
- Schwartz, Sherry R. “Exploring the Relationship Between Girl Scout Values and the Cookie Program: A Qualitative Study.” Journal of Youth Development, vol. 13, no. 1, 2018, pp. 101-116.