Why Do So Many Women Feel Unsafe in Their Own Skin?

This story is not just mine.

I’m still learning about my body. Right now, the journey I’m on is trying to shift from blaming it to understanding it, from criticizing it to showing compassion. I’m learning to see my body not as something broken, but as something that’s been carrying messages for me all along.

Photo by Mika Baumeister on Unsplash

And what I’ve realized is that the messages my body has been sending me aren’t just mine. They’re part of a much bigger story — one that so many women carry quietly. A collective truth about shame, safety, and how our bodies become the battleground for both.

For me, shame has always been tied to intimacy. From a very young age, I felt things I wasn’t ready to feel, and instead of safety, I was met with silence. That silence grew into shame, and it followed me into adulthood. Even now, with a partner I trust, my first instinct is to pull away. Not because I don’t want closeness, but because my body has learned to brace itself. Desire comes with guilt. Saying no feels impossible. Saying yes sometimes feels like betrayal. And so the shame cycle continues.

Then there’s the way my body holds weight, especially around my stomach. For years I’ve blamed myself for this, tried to fix it with diets or workouts, and wondered why nothing seems to stick. But I think part of it is that my body still doesn’t feel safe. Growing up in India, being an “attractive” girl was never just neutral — it brought harassment, stalking, bullying, the constant fear of what might happen if I stood out too much. Add to that the endless stories of women being assaulted or killed, and of course my body learned to protect me. Of course it learned to hide.

Even now, I dress modestly without really thinking about it. I don’t show cleavage. I don’t wear things that draw too much attention. I want to feel magnetic and visible, but I’ve also been conditioned to associate visibility with danger. And my body has taken that in so deeply that it doesn’t just live in my wardrobe choices, it lives in my weight, in my skin, in my posture.

There’s also the way I people-please, the way I say yes when I want to say no, the way I push through to avoid letting anyone down. That fear of abandonment shows up everywhere — in my relationships, in motherhood, and yes, in intimacy too. And my body keeps paying the price, carrying anxiety, breaking out, holding on to stress until I can hardly sleep at night.

The more I untangle my own story, the more I realize it isn’t just mine. So many women I know carry the same hidden fears. Shame around sex. Fear of being too visible. Guilt for taking up space. A body that feels heavy, not just with weight but with the burden of keeping us safe.

And yet we rarely talk about it. We blame ourselves. We try to “fix” ourselves. We carry the silence.

I don’t have a perfect answer here. But what I do know is this: my body has never been the enemy. It’s been the protector, the messenger, the witness to everything I didn’t feel safe enough to voice. And maybe the real work isn’t to fight it, but to finally listen.

If you’ve ever felt unsafe in your own skin, you’re not alone. Maybe if we start naming these truths together, the shame will start to loosen. Maybe our bodies will finally believe they can exhale.