In a culture where outward appearance is largely emphasized, disconnecting from the value of exterior beauty is no simple feat. Beauty is the driving force behind online TikTok clout, television fandoms and the likability of an attractive stranger. Methods of the supposed body positivity social movement earnestly attempt to affirm universal beauty but often deepen the societal emphasis on surface-level appearances. Newly dubbed ”body neutrality” on the other hand, decenters appearance entirely.
If society were to loosen its grip on beauty, body image issues would lose their mental power. Bodies should be seen as vessels for life rather than artwork to be admired, body parts to be toned and sexual entities to be perpetually gawked at. Not everyone needs to be beautiful.
Body positivity, as we know it today, can be traced back to the early fat acceptance movements in the 1960s. As the movement gained steam, the healthcare industry was targeted for misdiagnosing fat people who came in for assistance on unrelated health issues and left with prescribed weight loss medication. This blocked fat people from getting valuable medical attention and reinforced generalized assumptions that ran rampant through America’s medical, workplace and social institutions.
However, the 21st-century online body positivity movement has a single-minded focus on self-confidence, veering away from its roots in institutional equality to focus on aesthetics. People post candid photos with cellulite and body fat to boost unfiltered, authentic body content as a direct counter to the thin-centric, body-checking of TikTok and Instagram’s youth.
This initially admirable movement has been co-opted by thin people online trying to be included in trends, and contested with hashtags such as #fitspiration and #thinspiration. Even positive body image dialogue increases the perpetual fixation on surface-level features, putting a flimsy band-aid on the rotting core of our online culture’s obsession with beauty. This is further fueled by thirst-trapping trends on social media, which makes people their own voyeur and entrenches their self-worth on how much online traction their body can get from being attractive.
Margaret Atwood, the Canadian novelist, describes a woman’s relentless desire to appear appealing in all situations — whether alone or in a crowd — as the internalized male gaze. While body image issues impact individuals of all genders and backgrounds, women in particular experience self-hypersexualization to a heightened degree.
When slouched on a lawn chair outside, a neighbor waving hello causes a woman to sit up in order to not look slothish. Even in seclusion, the lingering threat of a man witnessing a state of ugliness can cause a woman to run a comb through her hair.
A woman’s preoccupation with being beautiful robs her of mental energy that could be spent on passions, career strides and hobbies. Contrary to what female-led blockbusters and fairytales have led us to believe, a woman’s peak form may not be her most physically satisfying form.
A young heroine starts the movie as a frumpy, awkward small-town girl with frizzy hair and glasses. By the end of the movie, she takes on Wall Street with her perfectly placed blowout, toned legs and sparkling lip gloss. Becoming more “beautiful” made her well put together, ambitious and an absolute winner. From plain and passive to divine and determined, all from the power of a new lipstick shade.
No wonder women are so troubled by their outward image. In pop culture, beauty becomes synonymous with being moral, tasteful and disciplined. Women see their bodies as reflections of their inner lives, placing aesthetics as intrinsic to who they are.
Despite the horrid messaging, there are dismal fragments of reality in the plotline of a woman climbing up the corporate ladder after a superficial body change. The journal, Organizational Behavior and Human Decision Processes, published a study where both men and women rated digital resumes with photos, and candidates who were overweight were perceived as significantly less competent than those who were thin. While thin privilege is a hard reality of the world, people should not impose and internalize those narrow standards of worth.
Critiquing one’s own body is an ingrained practice that takes work to unlearn. While body positivity can foster an uplifting relationship with the body, it is not realistic for everyone to miraculously embrace and adore every inch of their body. The expectation of absolute body acceptance is a subset of toxic positivity, cultivating inauthentic self-talk. Body neutrality takes out the key, dreadful piece of body dissatisfaction: hyperfocusing on appearance. It releases people from the need to consider themselves as perpetually attractive beings.
Confidence should come from skills, talent and character, not the uncontrollable contours of our physique. Bodies should be regarded as functional vessels — capable of experiencing joy, love and adventure — rather than objects to be admired.
So, the pressure is off. It’s okay to be ugly.
Isabella Ehring is an Opinion Intern for the fall 2024 quarter. She can be reached at iehring@uci.edu.
Edited by Trista Lara and Jaheem Conley.