📱 Blame It on Social Media

“Why is it that South Asian women are expected to look like Instagram filters in real life? Let’s talk about how social media glorifies toxic beauty standards—fair skin, thin waist, long hair—and the silent damage it’s doing to our mental health.”

Why is it that South Asian women are expected to look like Instagram filters in real life?

We’re born into a culture that already places us under a microscope—taught to sit straight, smile politely, and look “presentable” before we even understand what that means. And then social media walks in, like an uninvited guest who moves in permanently and starts editing our reality.

Now, it’s not just aunties commenting on our weight—it’s algorithms deciding our value.
Fair skin = more likes.
Flat tummy = more validation.
Long silky hair = more followers.
Desi, but only if you’re light-skinned and “aesthetic” enough to fit the mainstream.

What happens to the rest of us?

We start to disappear.
Not literally, but slowly—mentally. Emotionally.
We shrink ourselves to fit into beauty standards that weren’t even made for us.
We lighten our skin with filters.
We hide our textured hair.
We cover our melanin with insecurity and call it “self-improvement.”

Somewhere along the line, loving ourselves became rebellious.
And hating ourselves became normal.

We don’t even realize it half the time.
It’s just a scroll here, a like there, a girl with the perfect jawline and glass skin doing a “get ready with me.”
And suddenly, you’re spiraling.
Wondering why your nose looks too wide.
Why your thighs don’t gap.
Why your body doesn’t “snap back.”
Why your skin isn’t porcelain even though you’ve bought every product the influencer said “changed their life.”

We joke about it.
“Ugh, I need a nose job.”
“I look so crusty without makeup.”
But deep down, the self-hate runs loud. Louder than we admit.

And the worst part?
Social media sells us these lies and the solution.
It tells us we’re not enough—and then markets us products to “fix” the very flaws it created.

It’s a business built on our insecurities.
A whole economy thriving off our pain.
And somehow, we just keep buying into it—because fitting in feels safer than healing.

But can we talk about the mental health toll?

Because behind every “perfect” selfie is someone overthinking their face for an hour.
Behind every before-and-after is a girl who doesn’t eat anymore.
Behind every glow-up is someone who cried themselves to sleep for not being born “pretty enough.”

And this isn’t just a phase. It’s a crisis.
We’re losing parts of ourselves—culture, confidence, childhood—all to meet a standard that keeps moving the finish line.

So no, it’s not just “social media.”
It’s what it’s doing to us. Silently. Strategically. Systematically.

And maybe it’s time we stop blaming our reflections—
and start blaming the filters, the feeds, the forced perfection that taught us we were never good enough.

Because the truth is:
We were always enough.
It’s the world that needs to unlearn its obsession with perfection.
And maybe, just maybe—we need to start showing up as our real selves, so the next generation doesn’t have to heal from what we’re still hurting from.

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“Every time I scroll, I see South Asian influencers selling whitening creams and calling it ‘glow-up.’ When will we call out the colorism that’s destroying brown girls’ self-esteem?”

Every time I scroll, I see South Asian influencers selling whitening creams and calling it a “glow-up.”
And every time, a little part of me dies inside.

When will we finally call out the colorism that’s destroying brown girls’ self-esteem?

Because let’s be honest—this isn’t just about a product.
It’s about a mentality.
One that says the darker your skin, the less beautiful you are.
The less “wife material” you are.
The less visible you are.

It’s centuries of internalized hate, now rebranded and sold back to us through “glow kits” and “skin-brightening routines.”
We watch influencers with filters and bleached skin say they’re just “enhancing their natural tone.”
But we know what they mean.
They mean “lighter is better.”
They mean “be less of yourself to be more accepted.”

And the worst part?
This isn’t new. We’ve seen it at home, too.

Aunties pinching our cheeks and telling us to stay out of the sun.
Mothers rubbing “ubtan” on our faces before weddings so we’ll look “cleaner.”
Relatives casually asking, “She’s pretty, but is she fair?”

And now it’s just moved online.

Only now, the pressure comes with likes, brand deals, and followers.
Now, you’re not just judged by your skin tone—you’re ranked for it.
Algorithms boost the fair-skinned girls.
Brands hire the lightest among us to represent “brown beauty.”
And the rest of us? We’re either invisible—or expected to lighten up just to be seen.

Let’s not sugarcoat it.
This is modern-day digital colorism.
And it’s brutal.

It’s girls growing up thinking their skin is a problem to fix.
It’s teens trying DIY bleaching hacks they saw on TikTok.
It’s dark-skinned women made to feel “too much” and “not enough” at the same time.

It’s the constant message that our beauty has an expiration date—set by how far we stray from Eurocentric ideals.

And what makes it worse?
The influencers who look like us but still choose to perpetuate this toxic standard.
Who use their platforms to profit off pain instead of breaking the cycle.
Who choose clout over consciousness.

But we see it. We feel it. We carry it.
In the quiet moments of self-doubt.
In the photos we don’t post.
In the mirrors we avoid.

And maybe it’s time we stop being polite about it.
Because calling it a “glow-up” doesn’t make it less damaging.
It just hides the truth under a pretty name.

We don’t need fairness.
We need freedom—from the lies we’ve been told about our worth.

So here’s to unlearning.
Here’s to calling it what it is: colorism, colonization, internalized trauma.

Here’s to loving the skin we’re in—not despite its darkness, but because of it.
And here’s to creating a world where brown girls never have to question their beauty again.

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“Social media keeps telling South Asian girls to be ‘that girl’—wake up at 5 AM, do 10-step skincare, cook perfect meals, work out, work a 9-5, and still look perfect. Why do we glorify burnout and call it self-care?”

@aizatalks

South Asian double standards and toxicity #southaaian #desisoftiktok #indian #punjabi #punjabitiktok #pakistani #bengalitiktok #aghani #browntiktok #browngirl #motherinlaw #southasianweddings #browntiktok #browntok

♬ original sound – Aiza LC

Social media keeps telling South Asian girls to be “that girl.”
Wake up at 5 AM.
Do a 10-step skincare routine.
Cook aesthetic meals.
Meditate. Journal.
Work a 9-5.
Hit the gym.
Drink your matcha.
Take your vitamins.
Start a side hustle.
And don’t forget—look flawless while you do it. Smile, too.

But can we pause for a second?

Why do we glorify burnout and call it self-care?

Why are we romanticizing routines that leave us exhausted, anxious, and constantly chasing a version of ourselves that doesn’t even exist?

This isn’t wellness—it’s performance.
It’s productivity dressed up as peace.
It’s hustle culture with pastel filters and calming music in the background.

And for South Asian girls?
It hits different.

We’re already raised to carry expectations on our backs.
Be the perfect daughter.
Keep the house in order.
Make the family proud.
Look beautiful, but not too bold.
Be ambitious, but not too loud.

So when the internet tells us to be “that girl,” it’s not a trend—it’s just more pressure on top of pressure.

And we fall for it.
Because who doesn’t want to feel in control of their life?
Who doesn’t want to feel like they’re finally enough?

But here’s what they don’t show:
The anxiety that creeps in when you miss a workout.
The guilt when you skip your morning routine.
The panic when your life isn’t perfectly planned out.
The shame when you don’t look like you’ve got it all together.

It’s toxic productivity, disguised as self-love.

It’s 24/7 perfectionism, but make it “clean girl aesthetic.”
It’s still about being palatable. Still about being desirable. Still about proving your worth through how “put-together” you are.

And let’s be real—most of us are tired.

Tired of pretending that high-functioning anxiety is healthy.
Tired of curating our lives for social media validation.
Tired of feeling like rest is laziness and softness is weakness.

We don’t need another girlboss checklist.
We need grace.
We need softness that doesn’t come with shame.
We need real self-care—the kind that isn’t cute for the ‘gram.
The kind that looks like setting boundaries.
Saying no.
Sleeping in.
Eating carbs.
Crying it out.
Choosing peace over productivity.

Because the truth is:
You don’t have to be “that girl.”
You just have to be you.
Messy. Healing. In progress. Human.

And that? That should be more than enough.

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“Let’s talk about how toxic ‘aesthetic’ culture on social media is feeding comparison, anxiety, and imposter syndrome for young South Asian women. We’re not robots. We’re not content. We’re human.”

@smokin_sam

I moved out from my abusive family’s home at 18 as a single, South Asian girl which is generally, even in 2025, frowned upon in our culture and society bc “good daughters don’t leave until marriage”. They still want me to move back home 15 years later despite me telling them I don’t feel safe or secure under their roof. I remember some random desi grocery store owner years ago trying to preach & convince me to always live with my family, regardless of how they treated me, even though he was a complete stranger. Sadly, it’s still a part of our culture to shove ugly truths under the rug and just pray things will better over time, but this mentality is ruining future generations and causing all kinds of trauma in kids and families for years to come. Staying with abusive or toxic family members only teaches them that their behaviour is allowed and tolerated, rather than forcing them to see the true impact of their heinous actions & learning to be better. If someone cannot see the error in their ways or how they’re hurting those closest to them, they will never change, but the best thing you can do is take a good, hard look in the mirror & ensure you are who you want to be, say what you mean, and most importantly, LOVE YOURSELF. After all, we cannot control anything in this life except ourselves, so embody the characteristics of your best self & watch the universe respond 💜 #southasian #desiwedding #desigirl #indianwedding #family #toxic #abuse #movingout #livingalone #settingboundaries #mentalhealth #awareness #bigsis #advice

♬ Mere Wargi Surjit Bindrakhiyan – Priya_x

Let’s talk about how toxic “aesthetic” culture on social media is feeding comparison, anxiety, and imposter syndrome for young South Asian women.

Because no one tells you how heavy it feels—constantly seeing curated perfection and wondering why your life doesn’t look like that.

Why your room isn’t beige and minimal.
Why your outfits aren’t Pinterest-worthy.
Why your hair won’t sit just right.
Why your life doesn’t feel soft, clean, productive, or pretty.

Why you feel like you’re always two steps behind.

It’s the constant pressure to not just live—but to live aesthetically.
To turn your whole existence into a highlight reel.
To make your healing journey look poetic.
To make your breakfast bowl photogenic.
To make your outfits look effortless, even when you’re drowning inside.

But we’re not robots.
We’re not content.
We’re human.

And it’s exhausting.

Especially for South Asian girls—because we’re already walking a tightrope between tradition and modernity.
We’re already told how to behave, what to wear, what’s “too much,” what’s “too little.”
And now social media adds another layer:
You must also look perfect while you rebel.

Have your mental health crisis—but make it pretty.
Break generational trauma—but light a candle and journal it.
Chase your dreams—but make sure the lighting’s good.

And if you don’t?
If your room is cluttered, your outfit’s basic, your skin isn’t glass, your life isn’t curated?

You feel like a failure.
You feel like everyone else has it figured out—except you.
That’s where the imposter syndrome creeps in.
That’s where the anxiety takes over.
That’s where you start performing instead of existing.

And no one talks about the behind-the-scenes.
The debt. The breakdowns. The pressure to keep up.
The reality that life doesn’t always fit in a square grid with neutral tones and soft filters.

We see the aesthetic, but not the anxiety.
We see the vibe, but not the vulnerability.

And somewhere in the middle of that…
We lose ourselves.

So here’s the truth:
Your life doesn’t need to be aesthetic to be meaningful.
Your existence doesn’t need to be branded to be valid.
You are more than your feed. More than your following.
More than how “put-together” you seem on camera.

You don’t need to be content.
You’re allowed to be messy.
Complicated. Real.
You’re allowed to exist without constantly performing that existence.

Because being you—in all your chaos, culture, and contradiction—is more powerful than any aesthetic trend could ever be.