By promoting dangerous physical modification, looksmaxxing creates a toxic environment of masculinity.

I transferred into Binghamton University this year, and it's safe to say I've noticed some good-looking Bearcats on my way to class.

If you're a guy, you're not alone if you don't feel like an absolute stud on campus. As young adults, it's an almost canonical experience to chase that "glow-up" feeling -- especially as young men, we are pressured by our peers to look muscular and pull women, and these expectations are exacerbated by standards of masculinity normalized across social media. One manifestation of this is "looksmaxxing."

For those unfamiliar, "looksmaxxing," a term originating from manosphere spaces, refers to the act of maximizing one's physical attractiveness, encompassing genetics, like hair and eye color, and facial structure.

What began on message boards in the 2010s has evolved into a social movement on TikTok, attracting a much wider audience. Across social media platforms, ideologies about the role genetics and appearance play in a man's social welfare have essentially become a belief system. More recently, the term looksmaxxing has spearheaded a movement to improve men's appearance, transcending its incel-based origins and inspiring millions to "mog" -- be more attractive than someone else.

As a Hispanic queer man, I hope to contribute a dynamic perspective to this conversation.

I fell into the looksmaxxing trap and was once captivated by the idea of reaching my maximum potential, which led me to follow creators who offer advice on skincare, weight-lifting and style, referred to as the less extreme "softmaxxing." While there's nothing wrong with working to achieve your peak physicality, engaging in looksmaxxing culture reinforces toxic masculine values that can influence one's outlook on themselves and others.

The looksmaxxing community is built on a plethora of knowledge, and despite its many subcultures, it's led by influencers with hundreds of thousands of followers. Long-established forums like looksmax.org strayed from noninvasive strategies -- like weightlifting and grooming -- and instead leaned into what is considered "hardmaxxing," or cosmetic surgeries and facial sculpting methods. As more looksmaxxers move into the mainstream, facial modification has become more normalized, driven by the belief that these hyper-masculine looks are attainable and necessary.

Take, for example, the remerging trend of "bonesmashing," which involves hammering a heavy object into your jaw in the hopes of reshaping one's facial bones to achieve a desired aesthetic over time.

A 2025 report on men's mental health from the Movember Institute of Men's Health found that 63 percent of young men surveyed watch men and masculinity influencers. As young viewers watch these methods being successfully replicated, they become acutely aware of their own perceived flaws, measuring themselves against unrealistic standards that shape their self-image -- a concept understood as the "hegemonic masculine gaze."

For instance, Clavicular, a 19-year-old influencer within the mainstream community, is planning to undergo an expensive double jaw surgery. Although he already has an appearance aligning with hegemonic masculine ideals, he pursues an image that falls outside the scope of modern affordability.

Similarly, James Sapphire, a pioneer of looksmaxxing, fell into the rabbit hole of cosmetic surgery and manosphere ideologies, resulting in the demise of his facial structure and mental health. Despite his tragic story and that of many others, influencers like Clavicular continue to promote and sell pseudoscience to their audiences.

As someone who regularly views looksmaxxing content and is also attracted to men, I've noticed that many of these heavily contoured influencers just don't look good. I encourage looksmaxxing followers to ask the women and queer men in their lives about their views on male attractiveness. Because, and maybe it's just me, men who genuinely take care of their health and express their personality completely "out-mog" those with extreme facial symmetry when it comes to attractiveness.

As an Afro-Latino man navigating these spaces, I find it challenging to envision myself embodying certain looks, whether in physique, style or facial aesthetics. The fact is, I can't mold my face to look like the predominantly white creators I constantly see idealized.

In a space with such a broad audience, it's hard to find creators who look like me: people of color, Dominican and not living in a penthouse. The consequence of assimilating to the standard of these creators is adopting an appearance that does not reflect one's natural beauty.

I respect the right to autonomy in personal appearance, but I believe it's equally important to have a role model you can truly see yourself in. If you also feel this way, I encourage you to look for those more niche creators -- there are always some -- and if you can't find one, consider becoming one yourself.

Whether we follow looksmaxxers for advice or are simply entertained by their comical content, we propagate their ideas to the masses of impressionable youth. It's up to us, as viewers, forum members and creators, to uplift one another, forming communities that celebrate diversity in color and face. It's the toxic manifestation on social media and unethical influences that actually deter men from reaching their full potential.

My advice, from someone who has moved past insecurities to genuinely loving himself and improving every year, is to focus on listening to your body and prioritizing your mental and physical health.

Nicholas Rubiera is a sophomore majoring in sociology.