On Love Is Blind and the hierarchy of value.

Love Is Blind on Netflix is a social experiment that aims to test the concept of love by stripping away visual cues and letting people fall in love with voices and minds. In the latest season, what is clearly on display is this element of physicality in relationships that inevitably seems to tragically transcend depth of character.

In one recent episode, Chris nonchalantly tells Jessica, an accomplished, intelligent, charismatic infectious diseases doctor, that he “prefers women who do Pilates.”

Not her intellectual capability or courage. Not her years of work toward achieving a medical degree. None of this. Pilates.

As a mother to a daughter who is currently a pre-med student, I felt something beyond reaction, almost a cultural coup de grâce of sorts. Women can be scientists, CEOs, architects, and builders of systems that redefine the way we do things, and still be evaluated by the tone of their arms.

This is not about dismissing physical attraction. Attraction is human. It is about proportion. We are watching it eclipse quite literally everything else. A deeper unease is that women, many even in midlife, continue to accommodate the ever-shifting standard of perfection in this elusive quest to be sought-after.

The reality is that women are far outpacing men in higher education in America. They are leading research teams, running political campaigns, founding companies, performing surgeries, raising children, caring for their parents all while being told to prioritize “self-care.” And as if that’s not remotely enough, they are expected to maintain bodies that are pageant-worthy.

The bar for beauty has always been exceptionally high. What no longer aligns is how little academic or personal achievement seems to recalibrate that expectation. A woman can eradicate pathogens, but if she does not look like she spends her mornings sculpting her body in a Pilates studio, she is somehow perceived as less than.

Reality television is not solely to blame. It is a reflection of dating apps built on swipe-based attraction and of social media platforms that not only reward unrealistic standards of beauty but also manufacture them.

Women are taking it in, taking notes, and tragically, taking it on.

The algorithm rewards visual optimization. Men's liking, sharing, and following idealized aesthetics becomes the data that drives the recurrence of male-optimized content. Even when women surpass men academically and professionally, there remains an aesthetic medal to be won.

The message to young women is insidious: your medical degrees, Olympic medals, and advanced honors are impressive, but your body is still under review.

And what happens when our culture promotes the “women can have it all” narrative? We pursue the extra degree. We add the fitness class. We wager our well-being on the new supplement, the anti-inflammatory diet, the new protocol. Perhaps the problem was not that we cannot have it all, but that “all” was defined incorrectly to begin with.

Maybe we do not want it all. Maybe we want depth.

Partnership. Mutual respect. Room to be exceptional without also being ornamental.

The problem was never Pilates. It is a culture that prioritizes male preference over female worth. Or worse, equates them.

So what can be done?

Yes, we can begin young by teaching boys emotional literacy and admiration beyond appearance. But accountability must exist in the present. When reduction is voiced, it should be named. When a woman’s body is positioned as a primary qualifier, we should ask what that reveals, not about her, but about the speaker.

Calling it out is not hostility. It is calibration. And I find reassurance in watching culture recalibrate in real time. Not only in the celebration of who Jessica is as a person, but in the collective recognition that something felt off. Media shapes desire. When narratives elevate women for who they are, slowly something shifts.

I often think about what a future partnership will look like for my daughters. In my ideal world, men are secure enough to admire accomplished women without reducing them, and if I’ve raised them right, my daughters will be confident enough to walk away from being measured at all. Their joy will arise not from dating someone whose identity is defined by CrossFit, but someone capable of running a hospital ward during a global outbreak and still laughing over takeout.

If love is truly blind, perhaps the next evolution is not blindness, but depth.

Because nothing about a woman who saves lives should ever be considered “not enough.”

Vijaya Camillo | Founder & Editor SILK + SALT