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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

Theatre Review: Inter Alia

by Alaina Zhang ​for The 44 North, Newsletter & Reviews Editor


Rosamund Pike. Photo by Manuel Harlan.
Rosamund Pike. Photo by Manuel Harlan.
“We're all failing a generation of boys, and therefore we’re failing a whole generation of girls.”

Jessica is being fitted in her judge's robe for the first time. It’s supposed to be a glorious moment—a recognition of her success—but she feels more anxiety than pride. She watches her son Harry and her husband Michael look at her, then whisper something to each other. They laugh. She doesn’t know what they said. The room is full of mirrors, reflecting a harsh sun.


She wishes the whole process would quicken—numb the powerlessness. She’s worried this moment will tip the family balance; her husband didn’t get nominated as a judge…


A live theatre play written by Suzie Miller, which premiered globally in 2025, Inter Alia follows the journey of maverick London Crown Court Judge Jessica Parks as her son is suspected of rape. Mother, wife, judge—her life is a series of transitions between these different roles, until the rape case brings reality crashing down. These identities suddenly find themselves forced to pick sides. 


On one hand, the play is another story about teenage crime among others, such as Defending Jacob (2020) and Adolescence (2025). However, after seeing Inter Alia, I found myself thinking about what it means to live in a family where you’re the only woman. Jessica’s life is not an individual case, but one among many other women, wives, and mothers in the current age. Living as a wife who is always trying to protect her husband’s ego and a mother whose son is becoming more distant than ever, Jessica is in a constant loop of wondering if being “too successful” is the reason she finds herself alienated in her own family, and from the husband-son conversations she witnesses as a bystander. 


I was not fortunate enough to have seen this in person, but the charisma of live theatre was contagious even through the movie theatre screen. The Jessica Parks played by Rosamund Pike is so real in her struggle—her successful career is constantly overshadowed by the men around her, small violences that threaten to make her doubt herself and what she has achieved in an occupation also dominated by men. 


Recently, I attended a language exchange meetup where one of the topics was “Is it better to be married than to be single?” My mind drifted to Inter Alia. Yes, Jessica finds motherly fulfillment through her relationship with her son Harry, and romantic love in her husband Michael, but those familial relationships cannot be untangled from the legal fiasco which threatens to destroy her own independence and career. She begins to wonder if she failed as a mother. She finds herself becoming the lawyer she hates the most, defending a potential rapist against the words of an innocent young woman whose life might be ruined by sexual assault. 


As I heard the arguments for why being married was better, the one argument that was repeated over and over again was “You’ll be lonely if you’re single.” This was also spoken from a group of mostly women, citing their personal experiences, and something about it made me feel uncomfortable. 


Inter Alia, among other things, is a word commonly used in legal contexts to indicate that a particular assertion or claim is one of several possibilities. Marriage is only one lifestyle among others. Making loneliness the main argument and instilling a societal fear in women that not marrying is subjecting oneself to an unhappy life, is the very type of thinking that Inter Alia warns audiences against. I’d like to think that the play is not anti-marriage, anti-family, nor anti-children, but that it supports the many amazing, unique ways for a woman to live in the 21st century, not bound by phantom, patriarchal fears of solitude and misery. 

 

Artist Spotlight: Feels Zine

by Mikaela Brewer for The 44 North

Senior Editor


Photo of Feels Zine’s “Sexy” issue by Melissa Blackall
Photo of Feels Zine’s “Sexy” issue by Melissa Blackall
“[Q]ueer romances have far fewer representations in the media, and often the ones we do aren’t written by us, and are rooted in pain and trauma. This, for me, is a huge part of why I believe queer love stories are so important to share–because seeing ourselves represented gives those of us who don’t yet feel safe or seen a place to have their experiences reflected back and honoured.”

Editor's Note: Recently, I had a chance to speak with the co-founders of a zine I've long admired. We chatted all things queer love, romance, reclaiming sexiness, and more! Please check out their newest issue, "Hunger," and many others here. —Mikaela


The 44 North (44N): Firstly, before we begin, could you share why you started something like Feels Zine? How do you, your families, ancestors, community, politics, and values braid into your work on these zines? Where/how would you like folks to witness/experience this when spending time with the zines' pages? Is there anything you hope people pay particular attention to? Take action with/from?

Feels Zine (FZ): FEELS started with a dream and a friendship! Hannah, our co-founder and creative director, has worked in magazine design for a long time, but always wanted to have her own. Sarah, the co-founder and editor, is a social worker by trade and a big fan of talking about feelings. After visiting the Toronto Art Book Fair about a decade ago, we made the decision to take the leap and try making our own.


Thematically, it comes from a couple of decades of friendship centred around a deep comfort with each other discussing challenging feelings in a culture that does not always support or encourage it. It is also deeply political in nature, focusing on justice, community care, and storytelling. 


In terms of experiencing FEELS, one thing we’ve really loved is hearing the vast array of rituals people who consume it seem to have that are very personal to them. Just like feelings! We want people to sit with the content in a way that feels most true to them. The content is emotional and often challenging, and we want that to feel as safe as possible. 


Co-founders Hannah (left) and Sarah (right) at a booth offering Feels Zine issues
Co-founders Hannah (left) and Sarah (right) at a booth offering Feels Zine issues

44N: I love that your publication is about feelings. More specifically, I admire the message that our inner worlds aren't necessarily safest when kept private. As you say, "Having an open dialogue about what’s going on inside of us can foster meaningful connection and make us feel less alone, especially in the social-media era that asks us to curate and polish our lives and feelings before sharing them—if we share them at all." When you began curating & creating zines like "Sexy" and your "Queer Romance Mini Zine," I'd love to know how you thought about representing feelings, especially since so many other emotions are present & connected to queer sex positivity, health, and safety. How did these two zines, in particular, fit into the fabric of what Feels Zine is & hopes to do?

FZ: With those issues in particular, we wanted to move away from media representations of what it means to be sexy, or what queer romance looks like, and shift the focus back onto how it actually looks in our lives—far messier and more nuanced, but also more real. As a queer person (Sarah here, so speaking for myself), I’ve always found myself disappointed in the majority of representations of queer love and sex—so much so that when I find something I connect to, I won’t shut up about it and am so excited about it. I felt that way in receiving the submissions for those issues—so thrilled to see experiences that might look different from my subjective experiences, but also so similar in the feelings and the authenticity in them. I think this is really the epitome of what we want FEELS to be—a space for something we feel in our guts as true to life.


44N: Issue 18, "Sexy," explored feeling sexy, worth, and desire. Safe, positive sex & sexiness can empower us, as you say, and should be something to celebrate! Across the work included in this zine, how did you curate/capture this beautiful balance of feeling sexy—not only re: sex, but also in how we show up in the world? 

FZ: One thing that people may not know about our process is that, once we put out a call for submissions with our overarching mission statement, we really let the submissions we receive guide the final product. We work hard to curate that mission statement to touch on different viewpoints and angles to a feeling and not lock in on any one element. But at the end of the day, the most important component is how people relate to that statement and that feeling. As much as it would be nice for our egos to say we captured all that, the truth is, the contributors did that work. We also worked hard to curate submissions that explored the spectrum of how sexiness shows up for us—in ourselves, with others, with the world, and how we communicate about it. We don’t want to showcase just one type of experience—we want as many unique experiences as possible.


The front cover of Feels Zine’s “Sexy” issue
The front cover of Feels Zine’s “Sexy” issue

44N: Your "Queer Romance Mini Zine" explored queer romance as an act of resistance & resilience, creating intentional space for queer love stories. I so admire this. And in conversation with what we've been discussing: romance, love, and desire aren't insufficient without sex, of course! Intimacy beyond sex is a vital part of queer love stories, and I'd love to know how this mini zine approached queer romance beyond or alongside sex?

FZ: The complementing mini zines are a concept we’ve used a few times over the years, and come straight from the submissions we receive. Every once in a while, when we’re curating an issue and reviewing submissions, a related but distinct emotion or topic jumps out at us that necessitates space-making. As we worked through our Pride Issue submissions, this became very clear as a topic that was resonating with a lot of people, and a huge component of their subjective queer identities. Romance can involve sex for a lot of people, but it isn’t a necessary component, and we hope that that rings true in the overall storytelling of the Queer Romance mini zine. 


The other thing I would note, which I mentioned above, is that queer romances have far fewer representations in the media, and often the ones we do aren’t written by us, and are rooted in pain and trauma. This, for me, is a huge part of why I believe queer love stories are so important to share–because seeing ourselves represented gives those of us who don’t yet feel safe or seen a place to have their experiences reflected back and honoured.


The front cover of Feels Zine’s “Queer Romance” mini zine
The front cover of Feels Zine’s “Queer Romance” mini zine
About Feels Zine

A collage of Feels Zine issues
A collage of Feels Zine issues

Feels is a publication about feelings. It is a place to explore, to share, and to be honest. Having an open dialogue about what’s going on inside of us can foster meaningful connection and make us feel less alone, especially in the social-media era that asks us to curate and polish our lives and feelings before sharing them — if we share them at all. Feels believes there are no good or bad feelings — the value comes from how we relate to them, how we experience them, and what we learn from them.


Feels believes in inclusion and recognizes that certain voices have been given the lion’s share of the spotlight throughout history. Our pages are for everyone. We are a feminist, sex-positive, 2SLGBTQ*, anti-racist, anti-colonial publication.


—Feels Zine Instagram & website

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