You’ve heard about the dangers of social media for years. Online predators. Cyberbullying. A digital footprint that never really disappears. But there’s another effect that doesn’t get talked about as much because it’s quieter and more deeply ingrained than many realize. It’s not something that shocks you all at once. It slowly seeps into your life, rewiring how you think.
Looksmaxing.
The term originated in the 2010s and recently blew up on platforms like Tiktok and Instagram in the early 2020s. At its core, looksmaxxing refers to improving one’s appearance through various methods. It was originally targeted toward men but has since spread across genders and many age groups. On the surface, it looks harmless. Skincare routines. Gym motivation. Hair advice. But beneath that is a mindset that encourages constant evaluation, comparison and dissatisfaction.
From a young age, most of us have tried to change something about how we look. That isn’t unusual. We grow up noticing which people get more attention, more praise and more leniency. Over time, it becomes clear that looking good isn’t just about confidence, it comes with real advantages. We’ve all fallen for the “10-minute ab workout,” bought products that promised clearer skin overnight, copied a trend because it worked for someone else online. But there’s a difference between self-care and obsession. The line is thin, and most people don’t realize they’ve crossed it until they’re already on the other side.
This is where blackpill thinking comes in.
Blackpill is another term that’s surged in popularity over the past few years. It stems from the red pill and blue pill metaphor from the 1999 hit, “The Matrix,” but it takes a far more fatalistic turn. It’s closely tied to the idea of lookism; the belief that physical appearance is the primary, or even sole, determinant of romantic and social success. The black pill denies any optimism about improving your outcome through effort, arguing that such efforts are useless for the genetically “inferior.”
You don’t need to know the entirety of the rating system to feel its effects. Blackpill culture shows up in videos, comment sections and edits that reinforce the same message: some people are born winning, and it’s over for everyone else.
That mindset trains people to see beauty as destiny. You start absorbing the idea that if you’re attractive, life will reward you, and if you’re not, anything positive you believe about yourself is just self-deception. This shows up constantly online, usually in short-form content like Tiktoks or reels. A video will usually start with someone deemed unattractive, flash the word “brutal,”and then cut to conventionally attractive people, reinforcing the hierarchy. Your face sets the ceiling. Your looks determine your value. And no matter what you do, you’ll never measure up to the people at the top.
Looksmaxxing and blackpill end up feeding into each other. One pushes constant self-improvement. The other insists it’ll never be enough. Together, they create a cycle where people are constantly trying to fix themselves, whilst not believing they can succeed. Even with visible improvements, satisfaction never comes. Confidence doesn’t grow, instead, it becomes more fragile. It’s a self-depricating situation.
Social media makes this cycle unavoidable.
The best and worst part about social media is how accessible it is. These ideas aren’t locked away in obscure corners of the internet anymore. They’re on for you pages, reels, and explore tabs, reaching teens who may not even realize what they’re consuming at first. Over time, this constant exposure lowers self esteem and creates an unhealthy obsession with beauty. People immersed in this mindset often admit they automatically rate everyone they see, in the hallways, on the street, even in class. They notice flaws before anything else.
Living like that is exhausting.
When your brain is trained to critique faces nonstop, it doesn’t turn off when you walk into school. Students become hyper-aware of how they look sitting at desks, walking down hallways or laughing with friends. Instead of focusing on lessons, they’re stuck replaying comparisons, or waking up early in the morning to focus on their appearance. Instead of feeling present, they feel judged, mostly by themselves. That constant self-surveillance makes it harder to concentrate, harder to socialize naturally and harder to feel comfortable just existing.
In more extreme cases, this obsession becomes dangerous. A growing trend within looksmaxxing spaces involves injecting peptides and other substances to alter appearance. These include compounds meant to improve skin, promote fat loss or change pigmentation. Many of these substances are not FDA-approved, not legally obtainable, and not studied for injection use (ap news). While some have been researched topically, injecting them carries unknown long-term risks. Students experimenting with these substances often don’t realize they’re gambling with their health in pursuit of an unattainable standard.
Even for those who never go that far, the damage still exists.
There exists a term called “beauty inflation,” and many of us have fallen victim to it. It’s where, with the access of social media and the internet, we see beautiful faces often. When you’re constantly exposed to the most attractive people online, often the top one percent, your brain starts treating that as the baseline. Average stops feeling normal. It starts feeling like failure.
But that version of beauty isn’t always real, and it definitely isn’t common.
Life is noticeably better when you’re not constantly comparing yourself to others. A statement so obvious you’d think everyone would follow it.
Confidence grows when it’s rooted in self-acceptance, not in chasing an impossible standard most surgeries couldn’t even get you to. When students aren’t obsessed with measuring up, they participate more, think more clearly, and connect with others more genuinely.
Everyone looks like they’re glowing up. But behind the filters, routines and comparison, a lot of people feel worse than ever. Maybe the problem isn’t that we aren’t improving enough. Maybe it’s that we’re being taught to see ourselves as never enough in the first place.