yes, pretty is a privilege

on the binary of the 'beautiful' and the 'not-so-beautiful'

For the longest time, I thought of beauty as accessible to everyone; clearly, I have been living in my bubble. Or maybe that was easier to stomach? Perhaps I was so high on the sauce that the beauty industry sold—the idea that beauty is aspirational and that if you dedicate yourself to enough “beauty work,” then, of course, it would be attainable for everyone.

There is a quote I think about a lot, especially following the trending discourse around pretty privilege on TikTok:

We have created ideals of beauty that very few can live up to. We include and celebrate those we deem beautiful and exclude those we label as ugly. These hierarchies are harmful when beauty becomes privilege. - @MAKEUPBRUTALISM

This very specific kind of ideal of beauty, in its premise, creates a binary of the beautiful and the not-so-beautiful. It’s a type of beauty that has become conflated with worthiness. The goal is to achieve this high level of beauty because then you are somehow more valuable as an individual. And of course, this is not to say you’ve achieved a status of beauty. Beauty standards are constantly shifting and thus you’re thrown into this never-ending delicate dance of achieving and maintaining beauty.

While beauty is often said to be subjective, beholden to the eye of the beholder, how subjective is it when founded on constructed ideals? These foundations, underpinning beauty standards, are entrenched in mechanisms that reinforce sexism, racism, colourism, and other forms of discrimination. Despite global variations in beauty norms, Western colonisation has propagated Eurocentric beauty standards worldwide.

I think it was from watching Love Island that I first learned that blonde sits at the top of this beauty hierarchy. From the very first season, it was “blonde is my type on paper,” a recurring desire among the majority, if not all, of the male contestants. I was confused at first; how could blonde be a type? How could a hair colour be a marker for physical attractiveness? What I came to learn quickly was that blonde was so much more than a hair colour; it was communicating a whole culture of desirability, where proximity to whiteness was valuable capital in terms of beauty.

On TikTok, the hashtag pretty privilege has over 300 million views. Pretty privilege, the idea that people who are more conventionally attractive based on societal beauty standards are presented with more advantages and opportunities throughout life than those who are deemed less attractive, is a stark reality. It manifests in receiving more gifts, better job opportunities, and even higher school grades. Economists at the Metropolitan State University of Denver discovered that less attractive female students (according to ratings from non-faculty and non-student subjects) received lower grades than those considered more attractive. Unsurprisingly, “for male students, looks don’t seem to matter.”

Some scientists argue pretty privilege is a tool of natural selection. According to Reyes (2015), pretty privilege is rooted in fundamental biology. As sexual creatures, we’re trained to seek out attractive people because, in propagating our species, they offer something positive to the gene pool. According to California-based clinical and forensic neuropsychologist Judy Ho, “the more symmetric the faces, the more attractive, conventionally, the person is going to be, and symmetry generally correlates with biological strength.” But when today’s standards are mainly built around what society deems attractive, how much of it is biological?

The conversation on social media presents itself as a tool to help identify your attractiveness. The majority open with "You’re probably more attractive than you think, and here is why." The reasons are a list of daily occurrences that supposedly signify attractiveness, from people smiling at you more to having people hold the door for you. It’s not that we shouldn’t be talking about pretty privilege, but shouldn’t the conversation be past whether we have or do not have pretty privilege? It’s scratching at the surface level of this power play and focusing on the frivolous. In a superficial way, tying our self-worth to outward appearance. 

Pretty privilege impacts real people in real ways beyond receiving free gifts and more smiles.

The thing with pretty privilege is that it’s conditional and not an equal playing field. It’s not extended to women who are trans, Black and Brown, disabled, and/or fat. Pretty privilege is a very specific type of pretty, and it’s synonymous with being thin, white, and able-bodied.

The intersectionality of race, body size, disability, and gender identity amplifies the disadvantages faced by Black, Brown, fat, disabled, and trans women, often excluding them from conventional definitions of beauty. Black women, for instance, contend with racial stereotypes and colourism that challenge predominantly Eurocentric beauty standards, diminishing their perceived attractiveness. This dynamic is evident in reality shows like Love Island.

In the US, "Ugly Laws" were enforced from 1867 to 1974, prohibiting people with disabilities from appearing in public spaces. This discrimination underscores how deeply entrenched and harmful beauty standards can be.

The intersection of these identities means that Black, fat, disabled, and trans women endure multiple layers of bias and marginalisation, affecting their mental health, socioeconomic status, and overall well-being. This highlights the urgent need for more inclusive and diverse representations of beauty and equitable treatment across all spheres of life.

The issue with pretty privilege content is that it reinforces existing beauty standards; it’s a form of submission. By perpetuating a narrow model of beauty, we further marginalise those who don't fit. Instead of challenging these ideals, we end up affirming them, limiting the concept of beauty, which sustains standards that are treacherous and oppressive. 

For so long, we’ve been told how to be pretty; sometimes, it’s just easy to fall in line. Especially for women, who are under constant pressure to appear outwardly beautiful. But also to be visible in a world that flattens women.

This constant chase of what it means to be pretty is vital to consumer capitalism. Under a capitalist society, we’re told to be continuously striving to better ourself, to be in state of productive and improvement. When an outward performance of beauty is so tied up with a sense of value, self-worth, and admiration, it’s easier to sell the tools of beauty. 

Today, the beauty industry is booming and expected to reach a value of 131 billion dollars by 2026. Of course, it’s not the desire to be pretty that is the issue; it’s the terms of what it means to be accepted as pretty. It’s a tool to characterise people and breed bias; shouldn’t we be filled with rage rather than assuming it’s an “advantage” you’re just born with?

I don’t have the answers, but maybe it starts with talking about it differently. Shouldn’t we strive to expand beauty standards? Shouldn’t we undone the standardisation of beauty and its very specific set of features?  We must do more to challenge and redefine what beauty means.

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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.

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