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The Optimization Imperative: Looksmaxxing & the Collapse of Inherent Worth

Updated: Apr 9

by Erin Sweeney for The 44 North, Second-Place Winner of our Inaugural Essay Contest


Artwork by Logan Brewer
Artwork by Logan Brewer
"Looksmaxxing offers something seductive here: a concrete explanation for inexplicable pain."

“Is it over for me?” In the exposing glow of a bathroom mirror, a young boy meticulously picks apart his facial features with surgical precision. Canthal tilt? Negative. Jawline? Insufficiently defined. Cheekbones? Too low. He has spent the day scrolling through posts where other young men share before-and-after transformation photos, amateur surgical tips, and elaborate routines under the false guise of transforming them into a version finally worthy of love. This is looksmaxxing, and it’s not your ordinary internet trend, but far more detrimental. It’s the consequence of a society that has convinced an entire generation that their worth, instead of being inherent, must be earned through an endless cycle of self-improvement, that belonging is conditional on meeting endlessly evolving standards of “perfection.”


Looksmaxxing refers to the systematic pursuit of physical attractiveness through numerous means, from skincare routines and fitness regimens to extreme cosmetic procedures such as orthognathic (facial bone) surgery. This term, originating in online male communities, frames appearance enhancement as a strategic “maximization” problem that can be solved through physical optimization. While levels distinguish between non-invasive “softmaxxing” and surgical “hardmaxxing,” the underlying philosophy remains consistent: physical appearance is a

variable to optimize one’s romantic and social success (Farrell).


The phenomenon exploits fundamental human psychology. We are, by evolutionary design, constant comparison machines. Our ancestors survived by assessing where they stood within stable communities of around 150 people, according to Dunbar’s number in anthropology.


Today, that same instinct faces an impossible feat: comparing ourselves to a curated algorithmic feed of millions (Collins).


Dating apps have weaponized this vulnerability, transforming romantic connection into a gamified meritocratic marketplace where first impressions occur in milliseconds (Cobb). A young man opens Tinder and immediately begins collecting rejections. These apps quantify what was once mysterious—attraction and desirability—transforming connection into data. Match rates, response times, read receipts. When rejection becomes numerically visible, insecurity doesn’t just seep in; it devours.


Social media intensifies this through “upward social comparison”: our tendency to measure ourselves against those who seem better off (VerPlanck). Instagram learns which idealized faces and bodies hold your attention and dispenses them relentlessly. Each scroll reinforces a brutal narrative: they have what you lack. Comparisons are always unfair: your lived reality against someone’s crafted illusion.


The digital world isn’t only a space for comparison—it exacerbates isolation, breeding what has become known as the male loneliness epidemic. Nearly 1 in 5 men now claim they don’t have close friends (Holcombe). Without anyone to remind you that you give great advice or your presence makes their day, the ruthless cycle spirals endlessly. Isolation powers comparison to unrealistic standards, which convinces you that your looks are the problem, driving you deeper into reclusive, insecurity-driven self-improvement instead of reaching out for an actual human connection.


Looksmaxxing offers something seductive here: a concrete explanation for inexplicable pain. If you’re lonely and don’t know why, the uncertainty is agonizing. However, if you can point to your “negative canthal tilt,” suddenly, chaos has order. The forums provide a taxonomy of flaws, transforming nebulous suffering into specific problems with specific solutions. You can’t fix broader socioeconomic forces driving loneliness, but you can spend six hours doing facial exercises and measuring progress, believing you’re building towards the moment you’ll finally be enough.


What makes this sinister? The vulnerability of who gets targeted. It’s happening in plain sight, actively flooding millions of feeds. These communities—the manosphere and toxic incel subcultures—don’t just happen to stumble upon vulnerable young men by accident. They actively prey on them, targeting boys at their lowest, often in adolescence, when their bodies and identities are still growing. A 14-year-old whose face isn’t fully developed is told his natural bone structure has already sealed his romantic fate. These communities offer what seems like solidarity and answers precisely when young men are desperate for both, then gradually introduce more extreme ideologies alongside the facial measurements. What begins as skincare advice can become a pipeline into misogyny, radicalization, and deepening isolation: the very opposite of the connection these young men actually need (Rosdahl).


Women have always lived this way. They have been “looksmaxxing” for centuries, though we called it something else: beauty routines and feminine self-care. The crucial difference is not only in the attribution of blame but in the stakes themselves. For women, appearance has never been optional. It has been the primary currency of social value, the prerequisite for basic respect and dignity. A conventionally “unattractive” woman faces systemic devaluation: dismissed in professional settings, rendered invisible socially, treated as if her failure to be beautiful is a moral crime. Meanwhile, a balding, “unattractive” man can still command authority and be taken seriously as an intellectual. His worth is assumed; hers has to be proven physically through her face and body.


Patriarchy works exactly like this. It controls women by linking their value to their appearance, then profits off their efforts to meet unattainable ideals. The mental health consequences have been dire. Eating disorders are the deadliest of any psychiatric illness, with about 90% of cases reported in women (Clerkin). The dramatic increase in depression and anxiety in girls can be attributed to appearance-related social pressures, but this lifelong pain and suffering has instead been normalized and even glamourized. “Beauty is pain,” we hear as if starvation is a coming-of-age ritual instead of a mental health crisis.


When women engage in elaborate beauty practices, they do so under crushing systemic necessity. The narrative whispers that if they’re alone or overlooked, they simply haven’t tried hard enough. The blame curves inward, becoming a lifetime of shamefully monitoring their own acceptability. They internalize a system designed to diminish them.


Many men approaching looksmaxxing operate from a fundamentally different position. They have not been taught that their entire social value depends on their appearance. Rather, they’re experiencing perhaps their first sustained encounter with the appearance-based judgment women experience daily. Instead of turning critique inward, they externalize it, constructing theories about female “hypergamy” (Whitney). The forums seethe with resentment towards women framed as obstacles rather than fellow human beings facing impossible standards.


This distinction matters. Women face systemic oppression that strips them of dignity and opportunity. Many men in these spaces are facing romantic disappointment, which is indeed painful but not the same as having one’s fundamental value questioned. The anger stems from entitlement, believing they deserve romantic access. When it’s not granted, they blame women rather than questioning the transactional way they’ve been taught to view relationships. While both internalization and externalization lead to suffering, externalization has contributed to concerning patterns of misogyny and gender-based violence (Patel).


Looksmaxxing is merely one manifestation of what we might call the optimization imperative: a cultural belief that human worth must be perpetually earned, measured, and improved. In society, every aspect of existence has become a spot to enhance: sleep, diet, and even social skills are subjected to relentless improvement.


This ideology rests on a dangerous premise: that we must become worthy of love and belonging rather than possessing these rights inherently. When worth is conditional, the target inevitably moves. The teenager measuring his canthal tilt will be measuring something else tomorrow, because the problem was never how he looked. The problem is the belief he needs to earn his place through ceaseless self-transformations.


Recent research makes this clear. Rates of anxiety, depression, and suicidal ideation among young people have boomed (World Health Organization). When existence becomes a performance for worthiness, the pressure becomes excruciating. The impacts go beyond individual suffering. Lonely young men become easily pushed towards radicalization and extremist ideologies offering simple answers to complex problems (Santa Cruz), creating a culture built on resentment in which misogyny flourishes. Meanwhile, women navigate impossible standards while bearing additional burdens of discrimination. The optimization culture doesn’t discriminate in its cruelty but simply distributes damage differently. Perhaps most tragically, the optimization imperative prevents the very connections it ostensibly serves. When we view relationships as transactions, only showing the best version of ourselves, we eradicate the potential of truly being known. For intimacy, we need vulnerability to embrace who we are, even with doubts and flaws.


After everything, there is hope. It’s not some faint dream, but change already happening right here. Conversations are shifting: body neutrality, believing your body is a tool for living, not an object to perfect, has now become mainstream discourse (Sreenivas). Millions of young people are seeing these ideas right when they’re most vulnerable to the optimization trap, now understanding that their worth isn’t debatable before the lie has fully solidified.


The research speaks volumes. The Harvard Study of Adult Development found a truth of beautiful simplicity after nearly 80 years of tracking its subjects’ lives: the quality of one’s relationships is a far better predictor of happiness and longevity than appearance, achievement, or material success ever could be (Mineo). Couples who were happily together after many years weren’t the ones who had the best wedding pictures, but the ones who built genuine intimacy through vulnerability, not transaction. If connection triumphs appearance, why believe the lie?


Online spaces are fragmenting in interesting ways. Yes, toxic forums still exist and continue to prey on vulnerable young men. However, positive communities are rising equally as strong. Content creators have built audiences around authenticity: no filters, discussing therapy and medication transparently, and sharing actual struggles. Fitness influencers now expose how lighting, angles, and hormonal changes drastically affect our appearance, showing even those with visible abs have belly rolls when they sit down, breaking myths that people stay “chiselled” every second. These aren't minority creators; they’re reaching millions of the same algorithmically vulnerable teenagers that the manosphere targets, offering a different story: being human was never about being “perfect.”


Some of this hope is institutional. Even schools here in Canada are incorporating media literacy into their curriculum to educate children on how algorithms use insecurity for profit (Johnson), with other Canadian organizations dedicated to upholding this, such as MediaSmarts, which educates students to critically analyze digital platforms. Policy is also moving forward to make a change. This includes legislation in the United Kingdom that has banned the advertising of cosmetic surgery targeting minors due to potential concerns about body image and mental health (Gruet). Influencers must also disclose photo editing in commercial posts to combat unrealistic beauty standards under Norwegian law (Grant). These measures won’t solve everything, but they do recognize something important: individual effort alone doesn’t stand a chance in billion-dollar industries whose main goal is to profit off of insecurities.


Although the real change happens privately: therapy sessions and group chats. People

have been realizing a key truth: There’s no such thing as “reaching a full physical potential” that

will finally make one acceptable.


This realization is contagious. Each person who breaks free weakens the system because the optimization imperative is artificially constructed. It only works if people believe in it, and increasingly, they don’t.


The path forward requires rejecting the premise entirely. We must learn to recognize the optimization imperative’s promises as lies. Building lives rich with meaning beyond appearance, pursuing passions, and creating genuine connections can offer liberation. Together, we must demolish systems that profit from insecurity while teaching young people that their worth is inherent, not earned, to create space for authentic connection.


The young man in front of his mirror, asking, “Is it over for me?” deserves an answer: No. It’s not over. It never was. His canthal tilt is irrelevant to his capacity for kindness. His jawline has no impact on his worthiness of connection. The person he already is, uncertain, searching, imperfect, is enough. The young woman, exhausted from monitoring her appearance, deserves to reclaim that energy for what actually fulfills her. This requires courage to be imperfect, to be vulnerable.


They both deserve liberation from the belief that worth must be earned. That liberation is becoming inevitable, not through optimization, but through recognizing that optimization was never necessary at all.

About the Author

Erin Sweeney is a youth advocate passionate about political literacy and confidence. As the founder of the global youth initiative Diplomatic Drop (@thediplomaticdrop) and a core team member of Let’s Change Confidence, a Plan Canada movement, she is dedicated to empowering young people around the world. Erin aspires to study law in the future.

Connect with Erin on LinkedIn & Instagram @itserinsweeney


References

Poet’s Corner: “half-blood” by Justene Dion-Glowa

Updated: Jan 22

by Mikaela Brewer ​for The 44 North

Senior Editor


“half-blood” by Justene Dion-Glowa from The League of Canadian Poets’ Poetry Pause, June 5th, 2024


A bison in a wheat field under a cloudy sky
A bison in a wheat field under a cloudy sky

Note: This poem is not in the public domain! Please use the link above to read it.


Justene Dion-Glowa is a queer Métis poet living in Secwepemcúl’ecw. An alum of the Banff Centre for Arts and Creativity, they now work in the non-profit sector and recently released their first full-length poetry collection, Trailer Park Shakes, available now via Brick Books.


The brilliance of Justene Dion-Glowa’s poem shines through their use of white space on the page, which is one of my favourite craft tools in poetry. In “half-blood”, space—including caesuras, stanza breaks, line breaks, and indents, for example—works as hard as words, enacting the feeling of being ‘halved’ alongside a sort of sinister whiteness. But there is also space for thought, pause, breath, love, and reverence, for “the strength of our people / and Creator / reflecting in my eye shine”. The title of the poem, “half-blood”, isn’t extrapolated directly, but this is why it works so well: it layers the poem’s language. And although it likely speaks to Dion-Glowa’s Métis heritage, it also says: for so much to coexist is to be devastated—to be in a perpetual state of halving oneself and being halved by society. It’s both a brand of erasure and a necessary state of reflection.


Dion-Glowa, with tender care, also weaves in reflections on longing for the “sleek, hot, and slender-framed conventionally attractive”, “not made for a life of hardship”. A longing, now, to be halved. But I also think about the etymology of the word ‘hardship’, which conjures the rigidity of the British and French ships seemingly pouring into harbours, everything aboard inflicted like a trap. Dion-Glowa’s lines, here, gently shift blame and fault from them and their people. Followed by white space, I see these lines afloat, reclaiming the sea dominated by whiteness. 


There are also several short lines, intentionally placed to help us mirror feeling. For example, “spoons tapping along to the rhythm / I consider / how lucky I am / to have a weight I must carry physically” offers space to mirror how we consider gratitude, particularly with the inclusion of extra space beneath “how lucky I am”. Similarly, Dion-Glowa leaves extra space for generations to hurt—the past is not obsolete or ‘back in time’, it’s ongoing and always with us. The hurt didn’t happen behind us, it’s beneath our every step.


I’m also drawn to the musicality in “half-blood”, specifically in “girthy thighs”, “bison & bear”, and “food / fur / fibre / so / I starve no longer.” When rhyme and alliteration are used here, they ask us to chew. The language is delicious, so an excellent craft choice for the content of these lines (which become memorable for these reasons).


In the same vein as musicality, word choice profoundly shapes a poem. The word ‘meager’ stands out, starkly, because it’s the only word italicized. It also drives the last line, and is uncapitalized when we’d expect a capital ‘M’. We so often repeat “meager means” when we’re speaking about intentionally marginalized and “underprivileged” folks. By using lower case and italics, Dion-Glowa is tapping on the shoulder of the inflection—fear, discomfort, disgust—that’s used when we say ‘meager’, which our lexicon bolsters: “deficient in quantity, fullness, or extent; scanty, deficient in richness, fertility, or vigor; feeble, having little flesh; lean (The American Heritage Dictionary of the English Language, 5th Edition).” Anti-fatness and ableism are apparent here without these exact words, reflective of the covert ways they outline our world. This is the power of poetry—‘meager’ is one word, and placed well, it does the work of evoking everything “half-blood” is alive on the page to say: in body, mind, spirit, and relationship, Dion-Glowa and their people are not, never have been, and never will be meager.

Ten Things I Wish Someone Told Me In High School

Updated: Apr 20

by Abbigale Kernya ​for The 44 North, Podcast Co-Host & Contributing Writer


Teenagers celebrating graduation outside
Teenagers celebrating graduation outside

“As someone who chose an art degree against her family's wishes, I am here to remind you that somebody else’s plans have no right to influence your own. By plans, I simply mean what gives you joy, what gets you out of bed, and what inspires you. Please, please, follow your passions because I promise you will find your footing even if you have no idea what you want to do with your life.”

1. It goes so fast - make the most of it

I still remember walking down the halls in ninth grade and thinking, wow, this is it. It seemed like this was my forever, an array of soft-toned metal lockers and linoleum floors. And even though I knew I would graduate and move on, I didn’t actually think it would ever really happen. High school feels like forever, but once you’re out, you begin to realize how fast everything went. Make the most of the precious last few years you will spend as a kid - join clubs, take that art class, take way too many pictures, and remember how it feels to have the whole world waiting for you outside those walls. I promise regret will follow you as closely as it follows me, I promise that it's normal, and I also promise you can ease this burden by taking every advantage this stage in your life offers you. 


2. This is such a small part of your life (life is so much bigger, but your feelings are valid)

It would be lost on me if I did not assure you, dear reader, that I have also felt that soul-crushing pain obligatory in high school. I know, I’ve been there too. And as someone who survived, I’m here to tell you that the pain that follows you around the halls doesn’t last forever. In fact, it almost disappears completely once you leave. Of course, I am biassed as I had two years at home due to that thing known as a pandemic, but I can assure you that all those problems I lost sleep over all those years ago aren’t even a distant memory. Yes, you have every right to feel the way you do. High school is unbelievably tough, but just know it doesn’t last. This is such an astronomically small part of your life. In fact, I am going to be bold here and tell you that life doesn’t even begin until after high school, everything else is simply the preface. 

 

3.  Please, please, follow your passions

I know that you have probably met those people who have had their life plan mapped out since the fourth grade. And as someone who chose an art degree against her family's wishes, I am here to remind you that somebody else’s plans have no right to influence your own. By plans, I simply mean what gives you joy, what gets you out of bed, and what inspires you. Please, please, follow your passions because I promise you will find your footing even if you have no idea what you want to do with your life. I’ll let you in on a little secret - nobody has any clue what they’re doing, so you may as well go your own way while you’re at it. I knew there was nothing else I wanted to study in high school other than literature. My room is my own personal overflowing library. I was constantly thinking about writing and reading, so why not make it my career? If you’re going to be imprisoned by capitalism for the rest of your life, you better be doing something you actually enjoy - even if it looks different than everyone else’s. 

 

4. It's normal to lose friends

I can’t remember where I first heard this, but it has always stuck with me: part of growing up is outgrowing people. No truer statement holds merit such as this for the trials and tribulations of high school friendships. Especially going to school in a rural community, we have all known each other since we were basically babies, we all grew up together and spent every waking minute of school crammed in the same small classroom. Then when I headed off to high school, suddenly my tight-knit friend group was put to the test as other kids came into the picture and we slowly began to drift apart. Yes, it's hard, I won’t sit here and tell you it's not. But, I will sit here and tell you that it's okay to stop talking, it's normal to want to branch out. 

 

5. Everyone is just as insecure as you

Believe me, everyone else is also faking it.

 

6. When you express yourself, you are going to attract others like you

This is one that I wish more than anything someone told me when I was in high school. Towards the end, I found people that matched my energy but I spent the first half of this very short world pretending to be someone I didn’t like. Yes, that is normal, especially when you’re thrown into a new environment and the thought of letting go of your childhood friends who acted as your crutch during this transition is scary. However, I wish I was brave enough to start wearing the clothes I liked, the movies, the music - I would have found those people much sooner. When you express yourself, you are going to attract others like you and it's the most beautiful feeling. 

 

7. There is a lesson in that breakup

Oh boy. I struggle to look back at my high school relationships without swallowing down my cringe but however unhealthy and awkward they were, I learned so much from those painful breakups. Mainly, I learned exactly what I don’t want in a partner. This was a monumental awakening for me, and I promise once the pain ends and you look back at everything, you will uncover parts of yourself. Specifically, who you are as a partner and who you want in a partner–making the daunting thought of dating again a little less challenging. In other words: been there, done that, never again.

 

8. Your body is changing, learn to love it

I feel that when talking about diet culture, something I have spent oh so many years dissecting, it all comes down to one simple thing: life is too short to spend it worrying about your body. And yes I recognize that this is easier said than done, believe me, I do. However, repeating this sentiment to yourself especially when confidence is at an all-time low in high school is the start of acceptance. Bodies will continue to change, how you look now is different than how you looked before and how you will look in the future. Trust me when I tell you life is a lot less stressful when you accept that your body has always been beautiful no matter what you think of it, and there is so much more beauty to be found outside of a body.

 

9. “Fitting in” only matters now

Whether you choose to continue on with education, take some time off, or jump straight into the workforce, I can promise you will find that the urge to be liked by everyone around you simply vanishes - for the most part. I can only speak to my university experience when I say that when I walk around campus, sit in a lecture hall, or speak in my seminars, I really could not care less about if people think I’m cool, if I’m wearing the right brand, or whatever else used to plague my mind. Blame this newfound freedom on being a double aries or experience it yourself because I promise you, once you’re out of high school everything shifts. A lot of this comes from understanding that all these strangers around you don't care about you - and it's so liberating. 

 

10. Yes, your grades actually do matter…but not in the way you think

I don't know about you but I was also told in high school that grades don’t matter– I have something else to add to this discussion. The physical grade makes an astronomical difference when it comes to your scholarships and can make a significant difference in your soon-to-be debt. However, as someone who chose an art degree and cannot remember the first thing about algebra or cells, I can tell you with confidence that the gruelling study routine that was ingrained in my head is so beneficial. Learning how to properly study and understand time management is arguably more important than the grade you got on your biology test (granted you’re not looking to become a biologist. If you are, stop reading this and go study for all our sakes)

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