"all women are catfishes" and the fucked up norms of online body shaming

the trolls are out for Sydney Sweeney again

If we needed a reminder of how far we haven’t come, this weekend delivered it in spades. Sydney Sweeney went viral—not for her Emmy-nominated performances or her career achievements, but for paparazzi photos. Images of her in a bikini, on holiday, became fuel for a torrent of online abuse. What year is this even?

The photos ignited a deeply depressing but all-too-familiar discourse. Thousands of men took it upon themselves to critique, scrutinise, and insult her appearance. Many accused Sweeney of being a “catfish,” as though she had somehow deceived the public about her looks. One viral post declared, “All women are catfishes. The question is, to what degree,” earning over 4,000 likes. Others were blunter, labelling her “fat” and “ugly,” with unsolicited, vicious commentary on every inch of her body. “Armpits are weird. 3/10,” sneered one post, reducing a living, breathing human being to a schoolyard rating. Another, seemingly baffled by basic biology, asked, “Why does she have red marks all over her sides and stomach?”—a question that revealed far more about the user’s ignorance than anything else.

That such comments exist at all, let alone go viral, says plenty about our culture. Sweeney’s photos sparked a predictable, exhausting cycle: a woman’s body becomes public property, her appearance dissected, and her humanness weaponised against her. The issue isn’t that Sweeney looked “imperfect”—she didn’t. The issue is that society is determined to find fault no matter what.

Sydney Sweeney is one of Hollywood’s brightest young talents, celebrated for her performances in Euphoria and The White Lotus. Yet time and again, her body becomes the headline. This is nothing new. Women in the public eye—regardless of their talent, intelligence, or achievements—are relentlessly reduced to their appearance.

The hypocrisy is infuriating. What’s praised as “relatability” is weaponised the moment it doesn’t align with male fantasies. Sweeney is often described as having a “normal” body—a label that is both patronising and reductive. When she looks polished on Instagram, she’s accused of being fake. When caught candidly by paparazzi, she’s criticised for being too real. This double bind ensures no woman can win.

The “catfishing” accusation is especially insidious, rooted in the idea that women are inherently deceptive, their appearance a ruse to trick the male gaze. Sydney Sweeney owes no one an explanation for her body, her bikini photos, or her existence. Her job is to act—not to meet arbitrary beauty standards set by strangers online.

The scrutiny Sweeney faces mirrors the everyday experience of countless women. Social media has turned the policing of women’s bodies into a spectator sport. Platforms like X and Instagram thrive on cruelty, rewarding the most outrageous, vile comments with likes and shares. Algorithms amplify controversy, and women are left to bear the emotional cost while trolls reap the engagement.

Sweeney responded to the backlash by calling out the misogyny for what it was: cruel, baseless, and deeply ingrained. But as powerful as her response was, it highlights an ongoing injustice. Why should she—or any woman—have to justify her body to strangers? Why does the burden of resisting these narratives always fall on women?

Meanwhile, male celebrities are rarely subjected to the same level of scrutiny. Chris Hemsworth can bulk up for Thor and be lauded for his commitment to his craft. Jonah Hill’s weight has fluctuated over the years, but no one questions his talent because of it. For women, the stakes are higher, and the consequences of not conforming to societal expectations can be humiliating, even career-threatening.

Sweeney’s experience exposes a cultural sickness that stubbornly remains. Even the rise of body positivity hasn’t solved the problem—it’s simply shifted the goalposts. Women are no longer expected to embody unattainable perfection; they’re now expected to perform an “authenticity” that is equally curated and impossible to maintain. As Sweeney’s bikini photos prove, even realness comes with a catch.

The wider issue, the refusal to let women simply be. Social media has amplified this problem, creating environments where cruelty flourishes unchecked. Paparazzi photos and the subsequent backlash serve as grim reminders that women’s bodies are still treated as public property—ripe for critique, consumption, and objectification.

It’s part of a wider pattern that commodifies women’s appearances while dismissing their humanity. The discourse around her bikini photos isn’t really about her at all—it’s about a culture unable, or unwilling, to evolve beyond these tired, toxic narratives.

Sydney Sweeney shouldn’t have to make headlines for defending her body. She shouldn’t have to explain why her skin has red marks or why she looks different in unfiltered lighting.

The fixation on Sweeney’s body—and the bodies of countless women—reveals a deep societal insecurity. As long as we continue to hold women to impossible standards, we’ll remain trapped in a cycle that punishes them for simply existing.

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who wrote this?

Zeynab Mohamed is a London-based freelance writer whose writing explores the intersection of beauty, identity, and culture. Her writing has appeared in ELLE, Dazed and Women’s Health but find her unfiltered musings on her substack, Face Value.