The idea of the male gaze originates from film theory, but honestly, it applies everywhere. Movies, ads, social media, and daily life. It is the way women are looked at, judged, framed, and evaluated, as if the camera belongs to a man, the world belongs to a man, and the rest of us fit into the space left open. It is not just staring. It is the vibe. It is the expectation. It is how you are supposed to exist because someone might be watching.
You see it most clearly in movies. The camera lingers longer on women’s bodies, not their stories. It slices them into pieces: legs here, lips there, curves highlighted like plot points. Male characters get to be messy, complicated, and flawed. Women get to be looked at. Even when a woman is the “main character,” the story still sometimes treats her as if she is there to decorate the scene, rather than move the story forward. The male gaze determines what is important, who receives depth, and who is flattened into a silhouette.
Once you notice it, it is impossible to unsee.
The male gaze also shapes how women see themselves. That part is the most exhausting. You internalise it. You evaluate yourself from the outside, like you’ve turned into your own cameraman. You wonder how you look before you even know how you feel. You think about lighting, angles, and posture when nobody’s taking a photo. It is automatic. You learn it young, and it sticks like muscle memory. It is not vanity. It is survival mode disguised as self-presentation.
And then there is how it shapes relationships. The gaze can turn some men into judges without them even noticing. It teaches them to value beauty more than character, to expect performance instead of partnership. And women end up balancing between wanting to be seen and not wanting to be consumed.
Nobody wins. Everyone becomes a little less free.
But here is the thing: naming it helps. Once you understand the male gaze, you regain power. You notice when a movie frames a woman like she’s a product instead of a person. You notice when you are posing for imaginary eyes instead of being yourself. You start choosing differently. You stop apologising for existing in a body. You stop letting invisible expectations narrate your life.
The male gaze is real, and it is everywhere, but noticing it is the first step to breaking it. Seeing yourself through your own eyes instead of somebody else’s—that is the fundamental shift. That is where freedom starts.
References
Mulvey, L., 1975. Visual pleasure and narrative cinema. Screen, 16(3), pp.6–18. Available at: https://doi.org/10.1093/screen/16.3.6 [Accessed 23 November 2025].
Kaplan, E.A., 1983. Women and film: Both sides of the camera. London: Routledge.

Hello, I really liked your blog post, it was very well structured and interesting to read. I really liked how you explained the male gaze, and i liked the fact that you focused on it deeper rather than giving a simple explanation. I really liked how you discussed how the male gaze affects relationships and even men themselves because it’s not usually a perspective that is well thought about. I also really liked the final point ‘Nobody Wins’, because it shows how the way people think can hurt them as well as shape how they value others and i think that is really important to consider. This was a great read !
I really like your blog style. I saw a lot of your insights in your blog, showing you have real thinking about this topic. I very much like your sentence: “Seeing yourself through your own eyes instead of somebody else’s.” We should focus on ourselves instead of caring about what others think. You can enrich your content that combines your thinking into a real example.
I think the advantage of this article is its ability to present the “male gaze” with both theoretical depth and emotional warmth. Also, your structure is clear, advancing layer by layer from film shots to female self-internalization, then intimate relationships and how to resist. The language is very powerful, using details such as “vibe” and “imaginary eyes” to make abstract concepts concrete. The ending shifts from criticism to empowerment, leaving readers with thoughts and hopes