The expectation of beauty for a woman in America has been challenged repeatedly as it ebbs and flows throughout eras.
The Eurocentric projection of features deemed “beautiful” or “ugly,” like a smaller nose or paler skin, has been prominent throughout history.
Something I’ve personally noticed is the adaptation of language surrounding this. Society is no longer saying outright that thin equals pretty, but it is finding ways to convey the same message.
Influencers will give tips on “how to get a summer-ready bikini body” or “how to get rid of love handles,” providing the expectation that skinny is pretty and the best shape you can be in is a perfect hourglass.
It doesn’t stop at shape, either. With trends surrounding “glass skin,” women are expected to have no texture, hair, or marks on their faces and bodies.
This is completely unrealistic.
Despite the impossibility of these standards, I have had the complicated experience of fitting most of them, one way or another.
Most people would think this would lighten the burden of expectation on anyone’s shoulders. It couldn’t be further from the truth.
I still look in the mirror and wonder how to improve, to get one little step closer to perfection.
I have been “blessed” with a natural metabolism that shapes my body into an hourglass figure. It’s skinny but not skinny enough to have a gap between my thighs. I have less acne than the average person, but I pop every pimple I get, leaving me insecure about the new blemish that I’ve created.
I have naturally long blonde hair, a straight nose, and high cheekbones, but my eyebrows are too thin, my lips too small, and my nails are never painted. Am I too tall? Too pale? Is my head too big, or is my hair out of place?
Despite my aspirations to be unique and create my own values, I find myself molding, pushing, and stretching every inch of my body to fit into a box I’ve created.
I try to resist by dyeing my hair, getting tattoos, or getting piercings, but at the end of the day, without knowing it, I fall back into my default pattern of trying to look like a perfect Barbie doll.
It’s a losing battle. If I follow trends, wear tighter clothes, or put on makeup, I’m a tease. If I wear my glasses, a sweatshirt, and messy hair, I’m a waste of potential.
I’ve tried to find the middle ground. Is it form-fitting pants with a looser shirt? No makeup, but a nicer top? Some days go by without a hitch, with no one yelling on the street or making offhand remarks about my effort. Some days leave me hoping to be invisible.
Confidence is another uphill battle. It is widely acknowledged that having confidence is the most attractive thing a person can do. Until you reach a certain threshold. There is an invisible line that differs from person to person
Not so long ago, I was having a particularly nice day. I did my hair in a way that made me smile and found clothes that made me spin in front of the mirror. I had just finished all my assignments for the day and felt a sense of accomplishment that can be rare in your teens. I was confident that nothing could ruin my mood, and nothing did.
That was until I heard from a friend later in the week that she overheard a man, whom I had considered to be a friend, make some degrading comments and noises as I walked past. It took me over a month to wear the outfit again.
This experience isn’t rare. It leaves women afraid to show the very confidence so often sought after.
The struggle with self-image isn’t just a personal battle; it’s a collective experience that nearly every woman faces in some way or another. Whether you fit society’s narrow beauty standards or feel like you fall just out of reach of them, the pressure to conform is relentless.
It tells us that we’re never enough, too much of one thing or not enough of another. It forces us to navigate a world that simultaneously demands our confidence and punishes us for it.
Here’s the truth: beauty isn’t something that society gets to define for us. It’s found in our unrelenting resilience to show up as ourselves despite the noise. These days, we wear what makes us happy and can smile back at our reflections, whether or not the world approves.
Everybody deserves to feel seen, valued, and beautiful on their own terms.
Once we recognize the weight of these pressures, we can start lifting each other up, challenging unattainable standards, and redefining what it means to be enough — because we already are.
