For most of my life, being feminine felt like a subtraction problem. Less bulk. Less space. Less appetite. Less of everything: on a plate, in a dressing room, in a conversation. I wanted to be toned but petite; the kind that makes you look twice, like Sabrina Carpenter walking into a room. I also wanted my partner to look unmistakably strong in the culturally familiar way: broad, solid, protective. And I wanted to stay safely on the acceptable side of ‘delicate’.
It took me an embarrassingly long time to clock the contradiction. Why was strength magnetic on someone else, yet somehow unbecoming on me? It wasn’t a single ‘eureka’ realisation. It happened gradually, through the ordinary intimacy of gyms: overhearing women count reps, watching them learn to deadlift their own bodyweight, listening to them speak about health with an urgency their mothers never had the luxury to prioritise. It started to feel like ‘inheritance breaking’—a refusal to accept the physical decline we’ve been trained to treat as inevitable.
This week, at Vogue Values: Women of Excellence presented by Tira, that mindset change crystallised into a scene. National record–holding hurdler Jyothi Yarraji arrived in a slinky black Sharnita Nandwana gown, the slit cut just high enough to reveal calf muscles that come from years of relentless training. But what I remember most is the way the light caught her shoulders and arms—deltoids like clean angles, triceps etched, a back that looked engineered. They didn’t look ‘odd’ in eveningwear. The silhouette wasn’t ‘manly’. It was meticulously earned and made the room gasp in admiration. Earlier that day, when the tired binary of sporty or feminine came up during a panel discussion, Jyothi Yarraji replied, “I don’t ask myself to choose. I love doing my hair and makeup as much as I drown myself in training.”
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Of course, conditioning is persistent. In my head, the old script still tries to clear its throat sometimes: women should look small; muscles are for men. But what I saw on that stage wasn’t masculinity. It was confidence. The kind of confidence that comes from being able to rely on yourself. From knowing you can carry your own life without constantly checking whether someone stronger is nearby.
Science only strengthens the point. Strength training isn’t a niche interest for women. Across life stages, it supports bone density, improves metabolic health and protects physical function. If womanhood includes hormonal shifts, fluctuating energy and, for many, pregnancy and postpartum recovery, then strength is not by any means a vanity project.
Which brings me to the change I’ve noticed in myself and increasingly in the women and men around me. When we ran a poll on our Instagram Stories this week, 64 percent of respondents said they grew up believing muscular arms were an unfeminine trait. And yet, 75 percent said that perception has dwindled with time. Muscles are not necessarily manifestations of ‘masculinity’. They can be evidence that you feed yourself well enough to train. That you chose resilience over shrinking. That you are building a body that can carry groceries, careers, children, grief, deadlines and desire without collapsing under the weight of being palatable.
My definition of a ‘pretty, attractive woman’ has now evolved into something more honest: a woman who looks capable and unmistakably herself, not a woman committed to having less of everything for a single aesthetic. In sport, Smriti Mandhana’s power shows up in the ease of a clean swing with forearms that don’t flinch. Harmanpreet Kaur carries another kind of strength with an uncompromising posture and a body trained to absorb pressure and still deliver. And then we have women like Jennifer Lopez and Cameron Diaz, who have practically built a cultural thesis on the idea that glamour doesn’t need fragility. J.Lo’s strong shoulders may have been called ‘good genetics’, but are actually the cumulative effect of training and consistency performed so steadfastly they pass for genetics. Diaz, meanwhile, has always been an example of a physique that has endured years of functional training (and surfing); the kind of regimen that prioritises stamina, balance and athletic fluency over mere aesthetics.
Different bodies, different routes and different reasons have the same message: a woman can be graceful and strong at once. I still love elegance. I still love being looked after by a partner who stands like a rock beside me. But I love, even more, knowing that even on my own, a rough wave won’t knock me down.
Also read:
5 myths you need to unlearn about building muscle, according to experts
