Why Embracing Ugliness Can Be an Act of Rebellion in a Looks-Obsessed World

We’re in the midst of a cultural obsession with looksmaxxers, an online community predominantly composed of men who go to extreme lengths—such as striking their faces with hammers for a stronger jawline or using methamphetamine for a leaner physique—to alter their appearances. This movement has sparked widespread fascination, with trend pieces and news coverage dissecting their motivations.

At its core, looksmaxxing reflects a harsh truth: in modern society, beauty often translates to privilege. Those who conform to conventional standards of attractiveness frequently experience advantages in social, professional, and personal spheres. The looksmaxxers’ extreme measures, while shocking, stem from a grimly logical calculation—one that prioritizes conformity over well-being.

Yet, in a striking counterpoint to this trend, two new memoirs challenge the narrative by embracing the label of ‘ugly’ and refusing to change. Journalist Stephanie Fairyington opens her forthcoming book Ugly, set for release in May, with the unflinching declaration: “I am an ugly woman.” Poet and artist Moshtari Hilal similarly confronts the idea in her 2023 release Ugliness, writing, “At fourteen I learned fourteen times over that I’m ugly.”

Both authors engage in a parallel exercise to the looksmaxxers: they acknowledge the societal bias toward beauty and the challenges of being perceived as unattractive. However, instead of resorting to self-harm or substance abuse, Fairyington and Hilal turn their gaze inward, examining the cultural, psychological, and political dimensions of ugliness.

Questioning Beauty Standards and Their Roots

In their memoirs, Fairyington and Hilal grapple with complex questions: Is ugliness a personal insecurity or an objective truth? Can objective beauty standards even exist? And how have racism and misogyny shaped our collective perception of ugliness?

Hilal, for instance, dedicates pages of poetry and photography to dissecting her nose, which she feels is disproportionate to her face. Yet she struggles to reconcile her self-perception with the label of ugliness.

“I cannot reconcile myself to ugliness through aesthetics and verse alone,”

Fairyington echoes this sentiment, admitting the difficulty of confronting societal biases.

“It feels too tender to admit that our beauty or lack thereof impacts, even shapes, our lives,”

The Fine Line Between Reclamation and Self-Loathing

As a reader, it’s hard not to feel a defensive urge when engaging with these memoirs. Upon seeing photos of Fairyington and Hilal, one might instinctively think, “Not ugly at all!” Yet Fairyington herself rejects such reassurances. She argues that compliments, while well-intentioned, often miss the point—beauty is subjective, and the pressure to conform is real.

The authors’ journeys reveal that the act of embracing ugliness is not about celebrating perceived flaws but about dismantling the systems that tie self-worth to appearance. Their memoirs serve as a reminder that beauty standards are not neutral; they are deeply intertwined with power, privilege, and prejudice.

In a world where looksmaxxing dominates the cultural conversation, Fairyington and Hilal offer a radical alternative: the choice to reject the pursuit of beauty altogether. Their stories challenge us to reconsider what we lose when we erase ugliness—and what we might gain by embracing it.