I can’t help but wonder: Do some women really begrudge other women for being beautiful, or do they begrudge them for daring to admit they think they’re beautiful? On one hand, we’re all about women supporting women, cheering each other on in the pursuit of self-love and empowerment. But when we encounter a woman who doesn’t seem to struggle with her self-esteem, who actually embraces her beauty, things get tricky. Her self-confidence can feel like a slap in the face, an unspoken challenge.
Why is it that a woman’s self-assuredness can sometimes make us feel less sure of ourselves? Is it because, deep down, we believe there’s only so much beauty to go around, and that her confidence somehow diminishes our own? The uncomfortable truth is, sometimes it does.
Picture this: You’re feeling pretty good, and then she walks in—flawless, radiant, the kind of beautiful that turns heads. Suddenly, it’s like you don’t even exist. Her beauty doesn’t change yours, yet it feels like it does, because attention shifts, casting a shadow that’s hard to shake.
I don’t think women want to feel intimidated, but we’re all working hard to make the most of what we’ve got. And when someone else’s beauty feels like a threat, we might feel defensive. It’s a strange phenomenon, isn’t it? Culturally, we find it more socially acceptable to downplay our looks, to nitpick our flaws, than to own our beauty outright. We’re taught to be modest, to avoid seeming conceited, but at what cost?
So here’s a thought: Why do we feel threatened by another woman’s confidence? What if, instead of seeing it as a challenge, we saw it as an invitation—to be just as unapologetic in our own beauty, to stand tall without fear that it might cast someone else in the shadows? Maybe the real question isn’t why do we hate her for thinking she’s beautiful, but why aren’t we doing the same for ourselves?
