When I saw the latest Vogue India cover featuring Samantha Ruth Prabhu—shoulders capped, muscles and triceps defined, looking every bit the powerhouse she is—it was more than the aesthetic that hit me. It was the unapologetic space she occupied. For an Indian woman, particularly one who grew up in the shadow of the “ultra-feminine-willow-thin” Bollywood ideal, Samantha’s physical evolution feels like a personal liberation.
My own relationship with my arms has long been a site of conflict. For most of my adolescence, I was the ‘big girl’ in the room. Even after losing 40 kgs progressively over the last five years, a shadow of that insecurity lingered. Growing up in the 2000s, I watched women on our screens possess freakishly slender, almost decorative arms. To have ‘muscle’ on your shoulders was a flaw to be draped in half-sleeves or hidden under baggy t-shirts.
The irony? My arms were always my greatest tools. I started lifting early and spent my formative years in the pool. As a swimmer, my shoulders were my engine; broad and capable. But in the mirror, I didn’t see the power that sliced through water. I only saw the absence of those ‘heroine-esque’ arms that I was told defined beauty. Even after sculpting my body, I’d find myself rejecting a sleeveless dress because it made my arms look ‘too big’.
Conventional media often teaches women to shrink—to soften our edges until we are palatable. Watching Samantha Ruth Prabhu’s journey has been a masterclass in rewriting that script. I was in school when she started acting and I’ve watched her navigate health challenges to emerge not just fit, but formidable. She hasn’t just ‘bounced back’, she has built back. Watching her train with such transparency and build muscles helped me reach a long overdue peace: I no longer want thin arms. I want powerful ones. My goal is no longer to hide the volume, but to tone the muscles that carry me through the day.
The cultural pushback, of course, remains predictably loud. On seeing an Instagram post of cricketer Smriti Mandhana wearing a halter-neck white gown in Bengaluru last year, my first thought was how radiant she looked. Then, I made the mistake of opening the comments section. The ‘cause for concern’ among the masses? Her “manly arms'”, deemed so by insecure men hiding behind cellphone screens. It is a recurring theme: look at any female fitness creator’s feed and you’ll find a chorus of voices claiming that a ripped body is a masculine one.
But the narrative is shifting because the intent has fundamentally changed. Figures like Samantha and Smriti aren’t training to appease the male gaze; they are doing it for the sheer, visceral joy of what their bodies can achieve. As Indian women, we must begin to treat our own opinions as the only ones that carry actual weight. The goal is to prioritise our own agency—in what we choose to wear and how we choose to look—regardless of how ‘manly’ society might deem it to be.
Disclaimer : This story is auto aggregated by a computer programme and has not been created or edited by DOWNTHENEWS. Publisher: vogue.in
