“The Pressure to Be the ‘Perfect Beti’: How It Fuels Toxic Competition Among South Asian Women”

f you grew up in a South Asian household, chances are you’ve heard it all:
“Be respectful.”
“Focus on your studies.”
“Don’t talk back.”
“What will people say?”

And of course, the ultimate title we were meant to strive for — the “perfect beti.”

It sounds innocent, even admirable, right? A daughter who is obedient, successful, and selfless. But what if I told you that this image — this shiny, untouchable ideal — is quietly fueling a cycle of competition, insecurity, and pressure among South Asian women?

The Weight of Perfection

From a young age, many of us are conditioned to live up to this almost mythical status. It’s not just about being good — it’s about being the best. The most respectful. The highest-achieving. The prettiest. The most self-sacrificing.

And here’s the kicker: the idea of being the “perfect beti” doesn’t just affect how we see ourselves — it changes how we see other women too.

Because when we’re all trying to win the same invisible medal, everyone else starts to look like competition.

I’ve been there — silently comparing myself to cousins, classmates, and even strangers online. Wondering if I was “good enough” in the eyes of my family, community, or society. Wondering if she was better than me. Prettier. Smarter. More “perfect.”

And the worst part? That pressure doesn’t fade with age — it just evolves. The rules change, but the expectations never really stop.

When Expectations Divide Us

This unrealistic standard has created a quiet battlefield — one where many South Asian women feel like they have to constantly prove themselves. It’s no longer about being your best self. It becomes about being better than someone else.

✨ She’s married? You should be too.
✨ She has a Master’s? Go get a PhD.
✨ She’s raising kids and running a business? Why aren’t you?

We start comparing timelines, choices, and milestones — all while pretending everything is fine.

But beneath that surface is exhaustion. Insecurity. And sometimes, resentment.

Because when perfection is the goal, vulnerability feels like failure. And connection feels like weakness.

My Turning Point

For me, the shift came when I realized that chasing the “perfect beti” ideal was costing me my peace and my sense of identity. I wasn’t living for myself — I was performing. And in doing so, I was judging other women harshly because I was judging myself just as hard.

That realization was like a mirror:

If I wanted freedom for myself, I had to offer it to others too.

That meant letting go of the silent comparisons. The jealousy. The resentment. It meant accepting that we’re all on different paths, and that there’s no one way to be a good daughter — or a good woman.

Redefining the ‘Beti’ Narrative

What if being a “perfect beti” wasn’t about living up to outdated expectations, but about rewriting them?

What if it meant:

🌿 Choosing your own path without guilt.
🌿 Cheering for other women instead of competing.
🌿 Honoring your own boundaries and needs.
🌿 Being kind to yourself, even when you don’t “have it all together.”

That’s the version I’ve come to embrace — not perfection, but authenticity.

Because we don’t need to be perfect. We just need to be real. And when we give ourselves that grace, we give it to others too.

Let’s Break the Cycle

It’s time we stop letting this pressure divide us. Let’s stop holding each other to impossible standards and start making room for more honest, compassionate conversations.

Being a “beti” shouldn’t mean living in fear of judgment — it should mean living in alignment with your truth. And supporting other women as they do the same.

So here’s my invitation:

Let’s trade perfection for connection. Let’s trade pressure for presence. And let’s remember that we were never meant to be in competition — we were meant to rise together.