#CosmoInEverySize: The body positivity backlash is real, but is it really toxic or just misunderstood?

The body positivity movement has always stood for one powerful sentiment: Accepting and loving your body for what it is. With strong voices in the influencer industry, it’s no surprise that the movement has continued to reach greater heights. But what happens when someone calls out the movement in a way that makes you gasp, but then pause and wonder: Wait, do they actually have a point?

That’s what happened when Uorfi Javed appeared on The Having Said That Show podcast and dropped her hot take on body positivity. “I hate it when influencers promote obesity disguised as body positivity. You're being lazy, okay? You're eating pizzas and burgers every day. And I'm just smelling food,” she said. “Body positivity—they’ve made it a category.”

The internet did what it does best—pile on with criticism. People slammed her for missing the very essence of the movement: a campaign built on dignity and inclusivity for bodies that don’t fit conventional beauty standards. But as problematic as Javed's wording was, her comments tapped into a growing cultural unease. Has body positivity, which was once radical and liberating, become something else altogether?

The rise (and rise) of body positivity

Let's rewind to the beginning. Body positivity emerged from the activism and feminist spaces of the 1960s and '70s. Back then, it was not created for cute Instagram captions but to dismantle structural fatphobia and fight for equal dignity, visibility, and respect. By the 2010s, the movement exploded online. Brands began casting plus-size models, and campaigns boasted the inclusion of “real women” with real bodies, while hashtags like #BodyPosi and #EffYourBeautyStandards filled Twitter and Instagram feeds. For the first time, people who’d never seen themselves in magazines or billboards felt like they were finally finding representation. It really was a cultural reset.

But as with any radical idea that goes mainstream, there were risks of it being watered down. Body positivity today feels less like a movement and more like an aesthetic in pastel graphics with “love yourself” plastered all over it, like influencers posing with cellulite over a rainbow caption or something just as banal. Somewhere along the way, the fight against systemic fatphobia was swapped out for a glossy, Instagrammable version, and that’s exactly why it’s caught in this messy space of both criticism and confusion.

When asked whether she believes the movement has blurred the line between self-acceptance and normalising unhealthy habits, Javed doesn’t hold back.

“For me, body positivity means working on your body, no matter what shape or size. If you love your body, you wouldn’t allow it to degrade; you will work on it,” she tells us. “Obesity today kills more people than you would think. It’s the root problem for a lot of health scares. And I’m only against promoting an unhealthy lifestyle.”

Her perspective is coloured by her own journey. “When I talk about having unhealthy habits, I include myself too in it,” she admits. “Once upon a time, I was only eating junk. Then I became so obsessed with being skinny, and I stopped eating. My mental health was so bad. Going to the gym has helped me not just with my body but my mind and health as well.”

Javed insists that her critique isn’t aimed at those dealing with medical or mental health struggles. “My only point was that one cannot normalise eating unhealthy every day and not moving their body,” she explains. “Of course, this doesn’t apply to people with health conditions. If you can, then please go to the gym and lift weights—but if you can’t, then obviously this doesn’t apply to you.”

For her, the responsibility lies with both influencers and the audience. “We can sugar-coat it, but the fact is a lot of people are paid to promote unhealthy stuff. But we as consumers have to use our brains and draw a line. If an actor or influencer is promoting a cold drink brand saying it elevates our meals, it doesn’t mean we have it with breakfast, lunch, and dinner. It's all about moderation.”

When positivity turns into pressure

Javed’s words land with a sting because they echo a frustration many feel but don’t articulate. The relentless message to “love your body” can start to feel like another impossible standard.

Psychologist Mehezabin Dordi says this resistance is more about psychology than activism. “Resistance often comes from a principle called reactance,” she explains. “The moment we feel someone is prescribing how we should think or feel, we instinctively push back to protect our autonomy. Even a positive directive like ‘love your body’ can feel controlling.”

That disconnect can be damaging. “If someone is struggling with body image and can’t authentically say they ‘love’ their body, being pressured to do so can increase shame, self-criticism, and even withdrawal,” Dordi continues. “Many then feel they are ‘failing’ at self-love, which compounds the distress.”

Influencer Tanvi Geetha Ravishankar, however, argues that critics like Javed are simply missing the bigger picture.

“The backlash comes from a fundamental misunderstanding,” she says. “Body positivity was never about ‘glorifying unhealthiness.’ It’s about dismantling the idea that only certain bodies deserve dignity, respect, and representation. Health is deeply personal and multifaceted—you cannot judge it by looking at someone’s size.”

For Ravishankar, reducing body positivity to “promoting obesity” not only misses the movement’s purpose but also ignores systemic issues. “It reduces people to stereotypes and ignores fatphobia in healthcare, workplaces, job opportunities, or unrealistic beauty standards, which is what the movement actually addresses.”

The Instagram problem

Ravishankar admits that the way body positivity is packaged online fuels much of the misunderstanding. “Social media has both amplified and diluted the movement,” she explains. “On one hand, it gave visibility to people like me who were never represented in mainstream media. On the other hand, it commodified body positivity into a cute slogan or aesthetic ‘love yourself’ captions without any context. The original movement was radical, political, and rooted in fat activism. But online, it often gets whitewashed, prettified, and stripped of its urgency.”

This dilution, she says, is why people dismiss the movement as shallow. “The misrepresentation makes it easy for critics to say body positivity is toxic, when the truth is far more complex.”

Evolving the message: from positivity to respect

Both Ravishankar and Dordi agree that one of the flaws in the mainstream version of body positivity is the demand for constant self-love.

“I do agree that the idea of ‘loving your body all the time’ can feel performative and unrealistic,” Ravishankar says. “Our relationships with our bodies are complex, and it’s unfair to expect anyone to wake up every day and feel beautiful in the mirror. That’s why I believe the movement needs to evolve towards something more sustainable: respect. Respecting your body, even on days you don’t feel great about it, is far more achievable than forced positivity.”

At the same time, she notes the radical impact of affirmations. “For people who’ve gone decades without ever seeing themselves represented, the message of ‘love your body’ can be healing. For someone who has always been told their body is wrong, to finally hear that it’s beautiful can shift their entire sense of self-worth.” The evolution, she says, should allow for both truths: you don’t have to love your body every second, but you deserve to respect and care for it regardless.

Neutrality, acceptance, and the next wave

The body positivity movement has certainly transformed over the years. It has grown into something bigger and more powerful despite the backlash and criticism. And somewhere along the way, the term body neutrality or body acceptance entered the conversation, offering a softer, more respectable approach to self-image and how we relate to our bodies.

Ravishankar sees them as complementary. “Body positivity opened the door, but neutrality and acceptance expand the toolbox,” she says. “Some days you might feel body positive, some days neutral, and some days just body accepting, and that’s okay. What matters is that all these approaches challenge the idea that our worth is tied to appearance.”

Dordi agrees, adding that neutrality is often a more compassionate starting point. “It’s more realistic to see self-love as a gradual process rather than an instant demand. Body neutrality, focusing on what your body does for you rather than how it looks, can feel far less intimidating,” she says. 

The cultural undercurrent: why now?

So why is the backlash peaking in 2025? Javed’s comments are part of a larger cultural collision that highlights the rise of #Ozempic bodies, TikTok’s obsession with “realness,” and an audience exhausted by constant body talk.

Ravishankar argues the backlash isn’t about flaws in body positivity but about resistance to change. “It reveals how deeply uncomfortable we are with challenging beauty hierarchies,” she says. “Society still wants to control bodies, especially women’s, and is resistant to anything that destabilises the thin, Eurocentric, youth-obsessed standard. Instead of addressing systemic fatphobia, people find it easier to label body positivity as toxic.”

According to Dordi, influencers and media amplify the extremes. “Unfortunately, extremes generate clicks. Whether that’s hyper-fitness ideals or hyper-positivity slogans,” she says. “This exposure fosters comparison and creates unrealistic standards. To balance acceptance with health, the focus needs to shift from weight or appearance to healthy lifestyle habits. Representation also matters: seeing diverse bodies, ages, and abilities helps normalise variation and reduce stigma.”

Reframing the context for the future

Both Javed and Ravishankar agree on one thing: the conversation cannot stay where it is. Ravishankar wants to bring the focus back to activism, fighting fatphobia in healthcare, demanding diverse representation in media, and creating inclusive spaces in fashion, workplaces, and beyond. “I’d want us to treat body positivity not as a trend but as a sustained cultural shift that makes body diversity normal, not radical,” she concludes. 

Javed, meanwhile, frames it as a matter of personal responsibility. “If you love your body, you’ll work on it. If you don’t, it will degrade. I’m not saying never eat pizza, but don’t normalise unhealthy habits in the name of self-love,” she says. 

Maybe that’s why this whole conversation feels so uncomfortable. Because although body positivity feels like denial, dismissing it completely risks silencing the very people it was meant to uplift. Maybe the best we can do is find a middle ground—figuring out how a movement built on love can grow without losing its power.

And that brings us back to the real question: If body positivity isn’t the answer anymore, what comes next?

Lead image: Getty Images 

Also read: #CosmoInEverySize: The unfiltered reality of body positivity influencers

Also read: #CosmoInEverySize: Has body positivity become just another trend?