There was a time when “body positivity” wasn’t just a hashtag, a commercial, or a social media caption. It was a real movement, borne out of righteous disruption: a statement, both political and personal. Emerging from the rising tide of acceptance and self-love in the '60s and '70s, the movement sought to ask the right questions, including “Why should thinness dictate worth?” and “Who benefits from our insecurities?” and “Why are bodies policed by race, size, and gender?”
It’s well-known that beauty standards perpetuated by industry giants have historically favoured a certain “look”—conventionally thin, preferably White, and considered attractive only if a body fit specific sizing. In the new world that's as small as it is connected, revolt became necessary for fashion and wellness to become more inclusive. But, in this era of pseudo-representation, we’re forced to ask: Have we really achieved that before the goalpost shifted yet again?
Nutrition as an aesthetic
The explosion of social media in the late 2000s gave rise to radical ideas and a chance for them to spread like wildfire. A generation raised on size-0 models and glossy ideals thus came to face its own revolution: from trending hashtags for body positivity to sampling content that celebrated being authentic with unfiltered snapshots. As clinical nutritionist Harlene Bhasin says, “Wellness marketing trends overlap with the body positivity movement to both encourage people to pay attention to their bodies and prioritise wellbeing over pure appearance.”
But not all is well with this renewed focus on wellness over form. There is still this lingering idea that bodies need to shrink to be considered healthy. Bhasin says, “I focus on health-promoting behaviours rather than weight loss. I believe in introducing the idea that health is multi-dimensional, including mental, social, emotional, and physical, so it can’t be measured by body size alone. I’m very particular with swapping phrases like 'healthy weight' with 'health-supportive behaviours'. In fact, research shows that behaviours like movement, sleep, nutrition, and stress management are better predictors of health than size alone. Many people in larger bodies have excellent health markers, and many thin people experience chronic disease. I always highlight that caring for a body doesn’t require shrinking it — it requires listening to it. Overly rigid rules often create stress, guilt, or even disordered eating. Flexibility and balance, like enjoying both kale and cake, actually support long-term health better than restriction.”
While once the conversation centred around replacing unhealthy eating habits with nutritious food, physical movement, meditation, and overall wellness, current standards are warped, with a large amount of guilt feeding into these beliefs. This is a problem exacerbated by social media. Bhasin says, “Influencers present cutting out entire food groups like sugar and dairy as ‘self-care’, but for many, this fosters guilt and anxiety around eating ‘imperfectly’. Many influencers even share unverified nutrition claims under the banner of wellness. This creates unrealistic expectations and constant comparison, making people feel like they must always eat perfectly or look a certain way. Tags like #EatClean or #GuiltFree can unintentionally build online echo chambers where restrictive behaviours are praised. Additionally, there’s a misconception that detoxes and superfoods can ‘fix’ your body. The liver, kidneys, and digestive system already detox naturally. Wellness trends often oversell products that give little benefit while reinforcing the idea that bodies are inherently ‘toxic’ or flawed.”
The performance of inclusivity
Perhaps the most glaring contradiction in the body positivity movement is, ironically, its lack of inclusivity. In its most typical form, the spotlight tends to fall on “acceptable” imperfections—say, celebrating an average-sized woman’s confidence in a swimsuit while rarely extending the same visibility to those who are differently sized, differently coloured, or differently abled.
Psychologist Ekta Khurana, founder of The Mind Home, says, “Token inclusivity is more harmful than honest exclusion. When a brand puts forward one ‘acceptable’ plus-sized model, still conventionally attractive, with curves in all the ‘right’ places, it signals: we’ll include you, but only on our terms. This creates a hidden hierarchy within ‘inclusivity’ itself. For those on the receiving end, this pseudo-representation feels like marketing dressed up as empathy, like a performance of acceptance. Instead of asking, “Who else can we celebrate?” brands ask, “What’s the safest version of difference we can sell?” And the irony is that repeated exposure to this curated version of diversity doesn’t expand people’s sense of belonging, it narrows it.”
Examining it further, psychologist Aishwarya Puri, founder of The Wise Therapist, says, “The body positivity movement began as a radical call for inclusivity and self-acceptance, but its commercialisation has shifted it into something more performative. What was once about dismantling beauty hierarchies is now often packaged as another marketable ideal. Psychologically, this creates cognitive dissonance: individuals are encouraged to “love their bodies,” yet still exposed to narrow, polished versions of what self-love should look like. This mismatch can lead to guilt, shame, and heightened body dissatisfaction. Instead of liberating people from appearance-based worth, the commercialised version sometimes adds another layer of pressure turning acceptance itself into a standard to live up to.”
Towards real liberation
So, where do we go from here? Perhaps by returning to the roots. At its core, the body positivity movement was meant to liberate women from unrealistic ideals of beauty. Every human being is different, and everyone’s body is special. The idea is to understand that universal fixes or calls for reform cannot be received in the same way by every individual.
Puri has ideas: “Psychological research shows that self-worth depends on more than appearance. Based on self-determination theory, real confidence comes from autonomy, competence, and connection. I recommend reshaping your social media feed to unfollow accounts that trigger comparison and follow those that promote real diversity. Practice body gratitude—write about what your body helps you do instead of how it looks. Seek support—therapy or community groups can help, as attachment theory shows healing often happens in relationships. Live by your values, focus on creativity, kindness, or resilience, so self-worth is not tied only to size.”
Khurana adds, “The first strategy is honesty: name the hypocrisy. We live in a culture that preaches inclusivity but still rewards thinness, fair skin, height, and symmetry. Recognising this duality frees people from blaming themselves for feeling inadequate—the problem is cultural, not individual. The second is to shift the lens. Instead of asking, “Do I look acceptable?” ask, “What do I value beyond appearance?” Self-worth cannot be built on a body that changes with age, illness, and time. It must root itself in something more eternal: creativity, kindness, courage, love, contribution. The third is to create safe spaces. Real body positivity doesn’t come from brands; it comes from communities that allow us to exist without performance. Therapy rooms, friendships, movements that embrace bodies as vessels of living, not as projects to be perfected, these are where healing happens. And lastly, a philosophical reminder: your body is not your biography. It’s the house you live in, but it’s not the sum of your worth.”
According to counselling psychologist Swasti Jain, acceptance is key. She says, “Body neutrality is more realistic for many people. Instead of forcing yourself to ‘love’ your body, it’s about accepting it and focusing on what it can do, not just about how it looks. It takes the pressure off and can feel more freeing.”
While selective representation may have done more harm than good in recent times, real change is still possible. With industry giants across beauty, fashion and nutrition claiming to be ‘inclusive’ but seemingly amplifying insecurities, we can start by acknowledging that the movement still has a longer way to go—or an entirely new route to follow.
Lead image: Getty
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