LAST Saturday, Zimbabweans gathered for a night of glitz and glamour as 18 of the nation’s finest women competed for the Miss Universe Zimbabwe title.
As expected, social media immediately lit up with opinions on who should win and why. Yet, looking past the glittering gowns and flashing cameras, I realised a much deeper problem that women are facing both at home and abroad: the exhausting burden of beauty standards.
For decades, people associated pageants strictly with slim women. While global pageants have finally started accepting curvier contestants, the pressure on women hasn't vanished; it has simply shifted. In parts of Asia, the ideal remains a slim body with a sharp jawline; across Africa, the trend heavily favours light skin and dramatic curves.
This obsession with an artificial silhouette is driving an unprecedented boom in cosmetic surgery. When society weaponises a woman's insecurities, plastic surgeons make a fortune. Today, many women feel it is easier to "buy confidence," turning to risky procedures like Brazilian Butt Lifts (BBLs), nose jobs and liposuction. This is not just a fad, but a documented global crisis. Recent studies show a direct correlation between the rise of image-heavy social media platforms and the surge in young women seeking plastic surgery. Constantly exposed to filtered, unrealistic bodies online, women internalise the idea that their natural selves are inadequate. We must ask ourselves: why have we created a culture where a woman feels she must go under the knife just to be accepted by the world?
This harsh judgement became painfully clear the moment 34-year-old Roseanna Hall was crowned the winner. Almost immediately, she became the target of vicious cyberbullying, with keyboard warriors claiming she is "too old" and lack the striking features to represent Zimbabwe on the world stage. Suddenly, critics completely ignored the fact that she is a psychology major with genuine potential to change lives during her reign. When it is convenient, we love to say that beauty is in the eye of the beholder. But the moment a woman steps into the spotlight, we use rigid, superficial metrics to tear her down.
This reductionist view of women was made worse by the co-host, Tich Mataz. After the swimwear category, he asked the men in attendance if they were okay, jokingly telling them to "take a pill". It was a deeply unprofessional and unethical moment. By treating the swimwear segment like an arousal parade, he stripped the contestants of their grace and reduced a display of fitness and confidence into a cheap spectacle for the male gaze. Why is it so difficult for society to watch a woman walk the stage in swimwear and see athleticism and poise, rather than an invitation for hyper-sexualisation?
Ultimately, the pressure that drives women to become "plastic queens" is a collective failure. Natural beauty is supposed to evolve with age, lifestyle, and childbirth. On its own, physical beauty is empty; the real triumph is the combination of beauty, brains and unshakeable confidence.
Before we push the next generation to alter their bodies, we must dismantle these impossible standards and teach young girls to love themselves as they are. Women deserve genuine compliments or at the very least, the dignity of silence from critics, because they bring far more value to our communities than just their looks.