The Paradox of Perfection: A Miss Universe’s Journey Beyond Filters
There’s something deeply unsettling about the way we’ve normalized digital distortion in our lives. Personally, I think it’s one of the most insidious trends of our time. We’ve reached a point where altering our appearance is as casual as choosing a filter—a few taps, and voilà, you’re ‘perfect.’ But what does this say about our relationship with reality? Kaziah Liz Mejo, the newly crowned Miss Universe Kerala, offers a poignant lens into this phenomenon. Her story isn’t just about winning a pageant; it’s about surviving a world that constantly tells you you’re not enough.
The Filter Trap: A Generation’s Silent Struggle
What makes Kaziah’s journey particularly fascinating is how it mirrors the struggles of an entire generation. Growing up in Abu Dhabi, she was once an extroverted, confident child who felt ‘at home’ in her surroundings. But adolescence brought a cruel twist: the rise of social media and its toxic beauty standards. For three years, she didn’t take a single photo without a filter. What many people don’t realize is that these filters aren’t just harmless fun—they’re tools of manipulation, subtly reshaping our faces and skin tones to fit an unattainable ideal.
From my perspective, this is where the real damage lies. Kaziah’s insecurities about her naturally dusky complexion weren’t hers alone; they were planted by a culture that glorifies fairness creams and airbrushed perfection. If you take a step back and think about it, we’ve created a digital ecosystem that profits from making people feel inadequate. And the worst part? It’s so normalized that we barely question it.
The Audacity to Dream Big: A Rebellion Against Practicality
One thing that immediately stands out about Kaziah is her refusal to be boxed in by practicality. As a child, she wrote down wild dreams—like being on the Hollywood Walk of Fame—in a notebook. Today, as a 19-year-old law student and beauty queen, she credits this ‘delulu’ mindset for her success. What this really suggests is that practicality, while often praised, can be a trap. It limits us before we even begin.
In my opinion, this is a lesson we could all take to heart. In a world that constantly urges us to ‘be realistic,’ Kaziah’s story is a reminder that audacity—the willingness to dream big and fail spectacularly—is what propels us forward. Her detour in the international pageant circuit, where she initially placed as a runner-up, is a perfect example. It wasn’t a failure; it was a recalibration, a step toward something greater.
The Authenticity Paradox: Being Real in a Fake World
Here’s where things get interesting: Kaziah now operates within an industry often criticized for promoting rigid beauty standards. Yet, she’s determined to be an authentic role model. ‘Social media is so fake,’ she says, and I couldn’t agree more. What makes this particularly fascinating is her rebellion against the curated perfectionism of influencer culture. She doesn’t diet; she indulges in McDonald’s after shoots. She doesn’t hide her genetic traits, like her ‘little bit of a tummy,’ which she attributes to her Malayali heritage.
This raises a deeper question: Can the beauty industry ever truly be authentic? Kaziah’s approach suggests that it’s possible, but it requires a conscious rejection of its most toxic norms. By embracing her imperfections, she’s not just challenging societal expectations—she’s redefining what it means to be a role model in the digital age.
Home and Identity: Bridging the Diaspora
A detail that I find especially interesting is Kaziah’s relationship with her identity. Moving back to India at 17 was a deliberate choice to ground herself in her roots. She’s a bridge between the diaspora and the homeland, navigating the complexities of belonging. ‘Sometimes you’re made to feel like you’re not Indian enough, not Arab enough,’ she notes. This tension is something many in the global diaspora will recognize, and it’s a testament to her resilience that she’s turned it into a strength.
What this really suggests is that identity isn’t just about geography—it’s about the values and morals you carry. Kaziah’s nostalgia for Abu Dhabi, from shawarma to podichor, is a reminder that home is as much about memories as it is about place.
Conclusion: The Beauty in Imperfection
If there’s one takeaway from Kaziah’s story, it’s this: perfection is a myth, and chasing it only leads to misery. Her journey from a filter-obsessed teenager to a confident beauty queen is a powerful reminder that authenticity—not airbrushed ideals—is what truly resonates.
Personally, I think her story is a call to action. It challenges us to question the filters we use, both literally and metaphorically, and to embrace our imperfections. In a world that profits from our insecurities, Kaziah’s rebellion is nothing short of revolutionary. And that, in my opinion, is what makes her not just a beauty queen, but a cultural force.
