Why the Pressure to Be Perfect is Hurting Gay Men
I still remember the day in first grade when a classmate called me "gay" on the playground. We ended up having a meeting with our teacher about it. Even though I was just six years old, I somehow knew that being called “gay” wasn’t a compliment. It was an accusation. A reminder that I was different, and being different was something to be ashamed of.
Back then, I wasn’t interested in playing sports during recess like the other boys. Instead, I gravitated toward the girls who played games like “Teenagers” — pretending to be older and doing things that seemed so much more fun than shooting hoops. But in the eyes of the other boys, my interests weren’t “normal,” and that was a problem. I quickly learned to suppress my natural inclinations to avoid ridicule. I told myself things like:
Don’t cross your legs while sitting.
Don’t let your wrists go limp.
Don’t talk about the things you love—like coloring or writing skits.
Don’t cry when something hurts.
Don’t wear any colors that could be considered “feminine.”
I even tried to get into sports, even though I didn’t really enjoy them. But when you’re just a kid, trying to fit in means trying to reshape yourself, to make sure you’re not a target for teasing.
For many gay men, this story feels familiar. Most of us had a rough time growing up, especially in a world that wasn’t always kind to people who didn’t fit into conventional molds. We were told, directly or indirectly, that we weren’t “enough” — not masculine enough, not “normal” enough, and that there was something wrong with us for not meeting the standard. As we entered adulthood, this internalized shame often stuck with us.
The toll of this rejection is evident. Studies consistently show that gay men face higher rates of mental health struggles, such as depression, anxiety, and body dysmorphia. The pressure to conform to societal ideals, compounded by years of internalized shame, manifests in many ways.
One way this pressure plays out in the gay community is through Body Dysmorphic Disorder (BDD), a condition in which someone becomes preoccupied with perceived flaws in their physical appearance. BDD often leads to excessive workouts, mirror-checking, or extreme dieting — behaviors that many gay men are familiar with. It’s no secret that physical appearance plays a huge role in the gay community. We often categorize ourselves and each other based on body types: twinks, otters, bears, and more. But despite this diversity, there remains a dominant physical ideal. And, if you were to ask many gay men what that ideal looks like, the answer would likely be someone who looks like Zac Efron — muscular, chiseled, and “perfect.”
Interestingly, even Zac Efron’s straight co-star from a few years ago, Seth Rogen joked that the actor “looked like something a gay guy designed in a laboratory.” While Rogen’s comment was made in jest, it highlights the way that certain body types — the lean, muscular ideal — have become so ingrained in the gay community’s perception of attractiveness.
This obsession with physical perfection isn’t without reason. Being raised in an environment where we were constantly told we didn’t measure up to the masculine ideal creates a deep sense of insecurity. That insecurity fuels the drive to overcompensate in whatever ways we can, and for many gay men, one of the most controllable ways to do this is through physical transformation.
When you grow up experiencing rejection, as many gay men do — whether through bullying, exclusion, or social marginalization — the need for acceptance becomes overwhelming. And since changing your personality or interests may feel impossible, the body becomes the easiest and most tangible way to seek validation. Hours spent in the gym, extreme dieting, and obsessing over every aspect of your physical appearance can provide momentary relief from that deep, nagging fear of rejection. At least for a while, it’s something we can control. And in a community that has faced so much rejection, that sense of control feels empowering.
But this constant pursuit of a “perfect” body is not the answer. It may provide short-term validation, but it doesn’t address the root of the problem: self-hatred, shame, and the emotional scars left by years of feeling “not enough.” When physical attractiveness becomes the primary source of self-worth, the entire community suffers. We pit ourselves against one another, competing for attention and affection based on something that is ultimately superficial.
A few years ago, Buzzfeed writer Louis Peitzman published a piece called It Gets Better, Unless You’re Fat, in which he expressed the pain of being an overweight gay man who didn’t fit the community’s ideal. He shared how he had been rejected and marginalized, not because of his personality or worth as a person, but because of his physical appearance. "The truth is, the gay community isn’t interested in embracing overweight people because we’re a blemish on the image of perfection,” Peitzman wrote. “It doesn’t get better for us.”
These issues run deep. Many gay men struggle with internalized body shaming, which only serves to perpetuate the cycle of self-rejection and unhealthy coping mechanisms. A perfect body may distract us from our inner turmoil, but it won’t heal the pain. And in the long run, it harms both ourselves and our community.
In a recent blog post I read recently, one gay man even tried to justify the prevalence of body dysmorphia in our community by suggesting that the pressure to maintain a “fit” body leads to better health and more wardrobe options. While this may sound humorous, it’s also a reflection of the emotional detachment that many gay men use to avoid confronting their deeper issues. The reality is that body dysmorphia and unhealthy perfectionism are symptoms of a larger problem: the inability to truly process emotions and confront the shame and insecurity we carry from a lifetime of rejection.
It’s time for us to face the truth — we are not our bodies. Our worth is not defined by the number of reps we can do at the gym or the way we look in a shirtless selfie. If we want to be truly healthy, we need to start by addressing our emotional wounds.
Here are a few steps we can take to begin healing:
Learn to process emotions: To start healing, it's essential to learn how to process our emotions in healthy ways. It might sound simple, but emotional awareness and regulation are crucial for building strong mental health. Books like The Body Keeps the Score by Bessel van der Kolk offer valuable insights into understanding and processing our emotions. They explore how unprocessed feelings show up in our lives and guide us in developing emotional resilience. Therapy, whether individual or group, remains a powerful tool for helping us dig deeper into our past and understand how it impacts our present. If therapy is out of your budget right now, self-guided workbooks like Get Out of Your Mind and Into Your Life are great options.
Make intentional choices: Pay attention to the people and environments that trigger your insecurities. Are there certain places or people who make you feel bad about yourself? Take a moment before entering those spaces and practice self-acceptance. Meditation apps like Headspace can be a good starting point for building emotional resilience.
Stop perpetuating the cycle: It’s time to stop shaming others. Don’t nitpick people’s appearances or judge others based on their bodies. The beauty of the LGBTQ+ community lies in its diversity, and it’s essential that we celebrate that. We need to stop reinforcing the very standards that make so many of us feel inadequate.
It’s easy to ignore the challenges that exist within our own community, especially after all the progress we’ve made toward equality. But it’s crucial that we take a hard look at the ways in which we hurt ourselves and each other. We can’t keep hiding behind a perfect body. We need to come out of this new “closet” of shame and start embracing vulnerability, authenticity, and self-compassion.
So, let’s stop obsessing over the ideal body and start focusing on the things that really matter — our mental health, our relationships, and our ability to be kind to ourselves and to each other. It’s time for change. Let’s make the gay community a place where everyone, no matter their size or shape, can feel loved and valued.
And one last thing: If you’re going to post a selfie, go ahead and show off your smile, not just your abs.