Content May 2025,  Mental Health South Asian Women

Why South Asian Media’s Old Beauty Tropes Need to Die for the Sake of Women’s Mental Health

It’s 2025. And South Asian women are still being taught that their value lies in the size of their waist and the fairness of their skin.

This isn’t just lazy storytelling—it’s psychological warfare.

From the moment a South Asian girl opens her eyes to the world, she is met with an image of beauty that is narrow, punishing, and unattainable. And where does it come from? Not just aunties and matrimonials. It comes blaring through our televisions, films, and phone screens—wrapped in “entertainment” that tells her she is too dark, too fat, too loud, too much.

It’s killing our confidence. And it’s slowly killing our mental health.


The Lie We’ve Been Sold

We’ve been told this for generations:
You’ll find love if you’re thin.
You’ll get respect if you’re fair.
You’ll matter if you’re pretty—and pretty means small, silent, and light-skinned.

South Asian media has sold us this lie over and over again.
In Rocky Aur Rani Ki Prem Kahani, Jaya Bachchan plays Rocky’s Dadi, a matriarch who represents everything regressive about respectability politics—especially for women. Women must behave, cover up, shrink. There’s no space for softness, vulnerability, or bodies that don’t conform to strict norms.

In Shandaar, the fat cousin is not allowed to simply exist—she’s the butt of every joke, her weight her entire personality. Dhai Kilo Prem and Meri Bhavya Life attempt to explore body diversity, but the protagonists are framed around their fatness like it’s a condition that needs to be fixed or overcome.

Pakistani dramas like Oye Moti and Pyari Mona finally put larger-bodied women in lead roles—but not without centering their entire arcs on how hard life is because they look the way they do. Love is hard. Marriage is impossible. And happiness? That only comes after weight loss, or after suffering.

We see it. We absorb it. We begin to believe it.


What This Does to Our Minds

These aren’t just stories. They’re messages. And the message is clear:
You are not enough unless you change.

That kind of messaging doesn’t just hurt. It leaves scars:

  • Body dysmorphia starts before puberty.
  • Disordered eating is passed off as “self-control.”
  • Depression festers in silence because we’re told to be grateful for the little we’re given.
  • Anxiety peaks in dressing rooms and family functions, where body shaming is casual and cruel.

How can we raise mentally strong women when the media they consume teaches them to hate their reflection?

This isn’t a minor issue. This is a public health crisis.


We’re Done Apologizing for Our Bodies

South Asian women are no longer interested in shrinking themselves to fit into a mold made by men, mothers-in-law, or media producers stuck in 1995.

We want—and deserve—stories that:

  • Show women with real, diverse bodies living full lives
  • Normalize beauty beyond fairness and size
  • Don’t make fatness or dark skin a personality trait or a burden
  • Allow women to fall in love, chase careers, make mistakes, and thrive—without needing to change their appearance

This isn’t about tokenism. This is about justice. About healing.


It’s Time to Kill the Trope

The “fair-and-slim equals beautiful” formula needs to die. Not slowly. Not softly. But loudly. Now.

Producers, writers, and directors in South Asian media must take responsibility for the mental health fallout they’ve helped create. The cost of their tired tropes is being paid for by young girls who skip meals, women who avoid mirrors, and minds that spiral into despair.

And for what?

For ratings?

For outdated traditions?

For systems that were never built to celebrate the fullness of womanhood in the first place?

No more.


The Future of South Asian Beauty Is Real

The future looks like skin in every shade, bodies in every shape, and women who don’t need to apologize for taking up space.

We’re done asking for scraps of representation. We’re demanding transformation.

Because our stories matter. Our bodies matter. And our mental health matters.

Let’s stop telling South Asian women that they have to be pretty to be powerful.

Let’s remind them that they already are.

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