As a feminist, I was taught to withdraw against beauty standards and not to recognize them as harmless ideals, but as control tools that should keep women in conformity. I understand the theory: beauty standards should reduce us and dissuade our self -esteem in the service of a patriarchal order. I underlined the texts that re -published infographics and told friends (and myself) that our value is not rooted in what we look like. And yet my reflection still stays longer than it should. I know better. But that does not delete the years of conditioning and compliance with society’s beauty standards. It does not calm the war tug between what I believe and what I have absorbed. It doesn’t make me immune to a standard that I have never chosen, but I still somehow measure my value.
The desire to be noticed is not naturally wrong; It is human. But it becomes painful if this visibility is bound with beauty if our value is measured against standards that we have not chosen.
It usually starts when I am tired at night and without thinking to interruption, a few minutes on Instagram before going to bed that turns into hours. But suddenly I am surrounded by perfect faces, perfect bodies that look effortless, polished and flawless. I made the shiny skin, the sharp boundaries, the hair that is exactly right, and I start to compare myself with them. A girl from the college releases a picture in a beautiful dress – she shines, confident, breathtaking – and she gets 100 likes in ten minutes. How is that possible? I stare longer than I should, and I wonder if I will ever look so setting to be seen that way. It’s not exactly envy. It is a falling feeling that I disappear quietly while everyone else is seen. And I know that the pictures are filtered, edited, popped, but know that the little voice in my head doesn’t whisper: they are not enough.
Beauty as a silent betrayal
There are no beauty standards outside of us. They have been internalized so long and so deep that they have become invisible. We react to you without thinking – from the selection of clothing to our daily beauty routines to the way we show ourselves in social places. The silent betrayal is omnipresent. The media tell us that we have to constantly try to look a certain way. But it goes beyond the external influence. It is a daily negotiation with us. Should I wear this dress? Should I wear these shoes? Do I look good enough? Can I take a seat today? The body is not only a ship, but also a place of constant evaluation that you have to go through every day. And even when I say that my value is not only bound to my appearance, I feel the weight of this invisible pressure so strongly that I get quietly to a version of myself that is easier to accept.
Being a feminist does not mean to free herself from every internalized standard or to silence any uncertainty. It means recognizing them, understanding their roots and, despite them, decide to be friendly to myself.
The feminist discourse gave me the language to criticize the beauty standards and unpack the systems that dictate women and say what they should look like. I can talk about the male look, objectification and capitalist beauty culture until I said everything. Language is one thing, but the feeling is different. Theory and practice are not the same. When I look in the mirror, my critical thoughts do not always match the uncertainty that I feel. I can intellectually understand that beauty is constructed and unjust rewarded, but when I see a woman whose characteristics fit the idealized form, I still feel the weight of the comparison. It is a cognitive dissonance that often makes me guilty and drained. The language never stopped the language. The feminist in me knows the truth, but people in me still react.
When the criticism of hypocrisy feels
There are days when I confidently criticize beauty policy, norms and standards and then spend half an hour to fit into the same standards that I criticized. Days when I talk about rejecting Eurocentric idealsBut I still start measuring the beauty through your lens. This hypocrisy is not loud, but it linger like a contradiction that I wear both in my body and my mind. And I hate that I feel like a fraud. But maybe it’s not a hypocrisy. Perhaps it is the result of years of conditioning – readers who have learned in childhood and were reinforced by everything around me. It is the cost of existing in a world in which you often decide how much space you can take. I don’t try to judge, but the fault is real. The shame of knowing better, but still wants to belong remains with me.
This is perhaps the most difficult contradiction for me to be seen and noticed, even as a feminist. I believe in independence, autonomy and rejection of external validation. But there are moments when I feel invisible. When I see that other women are praised for their beauty, I ask myself: Would this kind of praise ever think for me? And then the fault comes to want it. It is not only a wish to be seen, but also to validate in a way that contradicts my values. The desire to be noticed is not naturally wrong; It is human. But it becomes painful if this visibility is bound with beauty if our value is measured against standards that we have not chosen. The truth is, I want to be celebrated as I am – everything I am. But sometimes I forget that I don’t have to fit the image of someone else to earn recognition, or that I don’t have to meet beauty standards in order to actually feel beautiful.
The contradiction that compassion needs
This contradiction is not only real – it is relentless. It lives in calm and loud moments, in the mirror and in my head. But that’s okay. Being a feminist does not mean to free herself from every internalized standard or to silence any uncertainty. It means recognizing them, understanding their roots and, despite them, decide to be friendly to myself. The struggle to free yourself from these beauty standards will never be linear. It is chaotic, contradictory and could be filled with setbacks.
The contradictions with which I live could never disappear but to recognize them is my resistance. The fight is not about perfection, but constantly develops in a world that tries to shrink me.
But I will not be silent about this contradiction. I will hardly wait to be flawless before I speak. In this fight there is room for imperfection. At the same time there is space to want and ask. And maybe it does the powerful – it does it to resist, even if you are still in the way.
Juhi Sanduja is an editorial intern at Feminism in India (FII). It is passionate about intersectional feminism, with a great interest in documenting resistance, feminist stories and identity questions. Previously, she was as a research intern in Delhi in the Center for Political Research and Governance (CPRG), Delhi. She is currently studying English literature and French and is particularly interested in how feminist thinking can influence public order and drive advantage of social change.
