Why Does Everyone Feel Entitled to Judge Latinas’ Bodies? (Op-Ed)

The recent public speculation about Jenna Ortega’s appearance has been difficult to watch—not because her body requires an explanation, but because the response shows how acceptable people still find it to discuss women’s bodies as though they’re public property, open to observation, assessment, and criticism.

I’ve spent most of my life relatively thin, and I know that the comments I receive about my body aren’t equivalent to the systemic judgment and discrimination experienced by people in larger bodies. Still, this year reminded me how deeply we’ve normalized treating weight as public information. After I unintentionally lost weight while struggling with SIBO—sometimes unable to digest more than one meal a day—neighbors and acquaintances began congratulating me. Their compliments reflected a culture so committed to thinness that visible weight loss was seen as good news, even when it showed I wasn’t well.

It’s no wonder so many women struggle with body image and eating disorders. In a July interview with Jay Shetty, Camila Mendes described how receiving compliments when she lost weight because of her eating disorder confused her. The praise reinforced the idea that she looked best at her thinnest, even when she wasn’t well.

Camila Mendes Opens Up About Struggles With Bulimia, Body Image, and Perfectionism During ‘Riverdale’

That’s the thing about being a woman: No version of our bodies seems to escape commentary. We’re too thin, too fat, or not curvy enough. People always find something to observe, question, praise, criticize, or worry about—and it’s exhausting to be on the receiving end of that scrutiny.

For Latinas, that scrutiny often begins when we’re young. Many of us grow up in families and cultures where comments about women’s bodies are so normalized that we don’t always recognize them as boundary violations. One relative tells you that you’ve gotten too skinny; another is quick to point out that you’ve gained weight—a tía comments on your thighs or waist. My girl cousins often told me I was too skinny and needed to gain weight. In my family, one of my nicknames has always been flaca. It was usually a term of endearment, yet losing even a few pounds could suddenly become a source of concern. Jokes about my thinness rarely bothered me, and I knew they often came from love. But loving intentions don’t erase the underlying message: My body is available for others to evaluate.

What makes this scrutiny particularly complicated for Latinas is how contradictory the expectations can be. We’re told to be thin—but not too thin. Curvy, but never “fat.” Feminine and voluptuous, as long as our stomachs are flat and our waists are tiny. We’re encouraged to eat, then criticized for gaining weight. We’re praised for losing weight, then asked whether we’re eating enough—a question I’ve heard my entire life. No version of our bodies is allowed to be.

That’s why the reaction to Ortega’s body felt so familiar. Her younger sister, Aliyah, recently supported a fan’s message reminding people that Jenna “doesn’t owe anyone an explanation” for her body, which she doesn’t. The idea is simple: Women shouldn’t have to explain why their bodies look the way they do. And yet, in 2026, we still need to say it. A woman’s body is not a public question she is required to answer.