“Have you put on weight?”
“You’d be pretty if you just—”
“Don’t wear that, people will look.”

I grew up hearing these lines so often that they almost became background noise, so ordinary that it took me years to realize how heavy they were. As a member of CHC’s Teen Collaborative and a guest contributor to CHC’s blog, I wanted to take this opportunity to share my own experience with these types of well-intended comments that can have unintended consequences.

For many South Asian girls, comments like these are so common that they fade into the background of daily life. They surface at family gatherings, religious events, weddings, or even from strangers who feel entitled to an opinion. Often framed as concern, honesty, or advice, these remarks are rarely intended to harm. But in mental health, intention does not negate impact. Over time, repeated comments about appearance do more than sting in the moment; they quietly shape how South Asian girls see themselves, how safe they feel being visible, and how much space they believe they are allowed to take up in the world.

In many South Asian cultures, a girl’s appearance is closely tied to ideas of respectability and future desirability. Bodies are not just bodies; they are seen as reflections of discipline and worth. As a result, girls’ clothing, weight, skin tone, and behavior are often scrutinized far more than boys’.

What begins under the guise of “guidance” can easily turn into surveillance. Growing up under constant observation teaches children that love and acceptance are conditional. South Asian girls often learn early that they are being evaluated, not just for who they are, but for how well they meet shifting, unspoken standards.

This can create hypervigilance, a heightened state of self-awareness where the mind is constantly scanning for potential judgment. Instead of feeling present, girls learn to monitor themselves: Is my outfit too revealing? Am I talking too much? Am I standing out in the wrong way?

When so much mental energy is spent on self-monitoring, there is less room for joy, creativity, confidence, or exploration of identity. Growth becomes secondary to self-correction.

For years, I thought staying quiet in groups or choosing neutral clothes was just my personality. Only later did I realize it was a form of shrinking, a quiet attempt to avoid the kind of attention that never felt safe.

Shrinking oneself is not a weakness, it is a protective adaptation. When attention has historically brought criticism or shame, the nervous system learns that being noticed is unsafe. Avoidance then becomes a survival strategy.

For many South Asian girls, visibility is not associated with affirmation, but with correction. As a result, shrinking can appear in subtle yet powerful ways. Some wear looser or more muted clothing to avoid comments about their bodies. Others speak more softly, hesitate to share opinions, or pull back in group settings. Achievements may be downplayed, confidence diluted, and parts of personality suppressed if they feel “too loud” or “too bold.”

These behaviors are not simply insecurity. They are learned responses to environments where attention has often been paired with judgment. This is self-protective behavior shaped by repeated social feedback.

The danger arises when shrinking becomes automatic. Over time, the internal message solidifies: Being seen is risky. Being small is safer. This belief can quietly limit ambition, self-expression, and the ability to feel at home in one’s own body.

Over time, repeated comments about appearance do more than sting in the moment; they quietly shape how South Asian girls see themselves, how safe they feel being visible, and how much space they believe they are allowed to take up in the world.

The cumulative impact of appearance-based commentary can be significant. Constant evaluation often leads to low self-esteem, particularly when self-worth becomes tied to approval or compliance. Anxiety may develop in social, academic, or professional settings where being visible feels unavoidable.

For some girls, repeated scrutiny of weight and body shape can contribute to disordered eating behaviors or an unhealthy relationship with food and exercise. Others internalize deep shame around skin color, body type, or femininity, absorbing the idea that certain parts of themselves are inherently flawed or in need of fixing.

When girls grow up believing they are always one comment away from being “wrong,” it becomes difficult to trust their own instincts. Self-worth becomes conditional, dependent on validation or staying within invisible boundaries. Over time, this can impact not just body image, but decision-making, relationships, and mental well-being as a whole.

As someone who grew up balancing pride in my culture with the weight of its expectations, I’ve learned that healing doesn’t mean rejecting tradition—it means redefining it.

Mental health does not exist in isolation from culture. For South Asian girls, mainstream conversations about body image often focus on social media or Western beauty standards, while overlooking the powerful role of family and community commentary.

Personal remarks, especially when they come from elders or loved ones, carry emotional weight. They shape identity in ways that external media often cannot. Therefore it’s important to recognize that harm can exist even in loving environments, and that naming this harm does not require rejecting culture altogether.

Healing begins when South Asian girls are allowed to acknowledge these experiences without being told they are “too sensitive” or ungrateful. It is possible to honor cultural values while also challenging norms that quietly undermine mental health.

For South Asian girls, reclaiming space can be a deeply healing and radical act. It may look like setting boundaries around appearance-related comments, even when it feels uncomfortable. It can mean choosing clothing that feels authentic rather than merely acceptable, speaking with confidence without apology, or taking up space in conversations where silence once felt safer.

Seeking mental health support that understands cultural nuance is another form of resistance, one that validates lived experience instead of minimizing it.

For families and communities, making space often starts with pausing. Before commenting on appearance, weight, or clothing, it means asking whether the observation is truly necessary. Sometimes the most supportive response is not advice or correction, but silence and trust.

Casual comments are never just casual when they are constant. For South Asian girls, they can shape a lifelong relationship with visibility and self-worth. What seems insignificant in isolation can accumulate into a powerful narrative about who is allowed to be seen and how.

I’m still learning what it means to take up space, to speak without softening my voice, to exist without apology. But I know now that growth begins when being seen no longer feels dangerous. Every South Asian girl deserves that same freedom.

Written by Anya Deshpande, a member of CHC’s Teen Collaborative, in association with the Taarika Foundation.