One of the most important ideas in media theory and film is the “male gaze,” which Laura Mulvey first proposed in 1975. She contended that mainstream cinema transforms women into objects of visual pleasure rather than active subjects, positioning audiences to view the world through a heterosexual male perspective. Nearly fifty years later, the male gaze still influences social media, music videos, movies, and advertising.
The underlying concept is straightforward: visual media frequently fragments women—legs, lips, curves—or frames them in ways intended to appeal to an imagined male viewer, rather than portraying them as complete human beings with desires, agency, and stories. This is about who gets to control the narrative gaze, not just sexualisation.
When I think about the male gaze today, I immediately think of platforms like Instagram and TikTok. Women creators often feel pressure (explicit or subtle) to present themselves in ways that align with dominant beauty standards: perfect lighting, ideal angles, glossy filters. Even if the platforms don’t directly “tell” women to do this, the algorithm rewards certain aesthetics—tight clothing, certain poses, makeup styles—because they drive engagement.
This leads to a vicious cycle: viewers internalise these standards as “normal,” creators adapt to satisfy demand, and the algorithm favours work that fits the aesthetic. Mulvey’s approach focused on how visual systems generate norms, expectations, and desire rather than just movies. This process has only become more intense due to social media.
Power is another aspect of the male gaze. Who is allowed to look? Who is being examined? Who is in charge of the camera? The gaze is nevertheless influenced by platform incentives and audience expectations, even on TikTok and YouTube, where creators have greater freedom. Women’s content, for instance, is frequently subjected to harsher scrutiny, sexualisation, or dismissal. The male gaze is crowdsourcing.
However, the idea is not without its flaws. Some contend that visual media can be used by women and queer makers to reclaim agency, subvert the gaze, or produce alternative gazes that are communal, queer, or female. I agree with this. The emergence of alternative aesthetics, self-shot material, and body-positivity shows that the gaze is no longer unilateral. Influence is reciprocal.
The masculine gaze, in my opinion, is more about identifying the visual systems we engage in than it is about placing blame on specific people. Knowing that makes me consider how I view myself and other people, as well as how digital platforms influence those behaviours.
For this reason, intersectionality is important when discussing the male gaze. In addition to gender, other factors that influence the feeling of being scrutinised include ethnicity, class, age, handicap, and cultural heritage. For instance, non-white bodies are frequently excluded or exoticized by beauty standards that are normalised on Western platforms; elder women are excluded from mainstream imagery; and disabled bodies are either eliminated or presented as inspirational objects. We may better understand how visual norms are not neutral nor universal when we consider the male gaze in conjunction with these overlapping processes.
