Why Do So Many Gay Men Hate Their Bodies?
- Chris Tompkins
- Mar 7
- 5 min read
The "male gayzed" is a lens gay men don't realize they're looking through.
KEY POINTS
Gay men experience eating disorder rates 42 to 49 percent higher than heterosexual men.
Gay men face unique body image challenges driven by minority stress, internalized shame, and pornography.
Research suggests that fostering body positivity is crucial for improving mental health in gay men.
Earlier this year, Olympic gold medalist Tom Daley opened up about his struggles with an eating disorder and the shame he's carried about being gay in a documentary, Tom Daley: 1.6 Seconds.
His willingness to speak openly about his experience points to something many of us already know but don't always say out loud. Even with visibility, success, and legal progress, the internal wounds of growing up in a world that tells us we're wrong still linger, and for many gay men, they can appear most painfully in our relationship with our bodies.
The term "male gaze" was coined by feminist film critic Laura Mulvey in 1975 to describe how visual media is structured from a masculine, heterosexual perspective, depicting women as objects of desire while positioning men as the ones doing the looking. Women learn to see themselves through this lens, internalizing how they're perceived rather than how they actually are.
For gay men, something similar happens, but with its own distinct texture. We don't just internalize the broader culture's judgments about masculinity and femininity. We also absorb the specific beauty standards, body ideals, and hierarchies of desirability within our own community.
I call this the male gayzed, the lens through which gay men learn to view themselves and each other, measuring worth by how closely we match narrow standards of attractiveness, masculinity, and physical perfection.
For most gay men, the male gayzed begins long before we come out or set foot in a gay bar. Most gay youth learn about sex through pornography, often before they've had any real sexual experience of their own. The bodies in mainstream gay porn are almost uniformly muscular, young, and manicured.
Before a gay man has had the chance to develop his own sense of desire or understand what he likes, porn has already told him what gay men are "supposed" to look like and introduced him to a standard of desirability he'll spend years measuring himself against without ever knowing where it came from.
Studies show gay men report significantly lower body esteem, higher body dissatisfaction, and eating disorder rates that are between 42 and 49 percent higher than those of heterosexual men. Gay men are also more likely to engage in self-objectification, viewing our bodies from an observer's perspective rather than from the inside out, which leads to greater body shame over time.
Gay men who are feminine-presenting, larger-bodied, or lower-income tend to face an even greater burden, and community labels like twink, bear, and daddy, while sometimes worn with pride, can also reinforce hierarchies of desirability that leave a lot of men feeling like they don't quite belong, even within a community where they’re supposed to feel safe.
Gay bars have long been a cornerstone of gay culture, but they're also where the male gayzed moves from the private world of a screen into public life. For 11 years, I worked at a gay bar in West Hollywood, and one of the things I noticed early on was how pervasive body standards were in every aspect of the environment.
Every piece of marketing featured shirtless men with abs. Go-go dancers, a fixture of gay bar culture, almost always fit a very specific physical ideal. Even bartenders were hired based heavily on appearance. The message, whether intentional or not, was clear about what kind of body had value.
I remember when I first started serving, taking over another server's section on a busy Sunday afternoon. When I walked up to introduce myself to a large group of attractive and physically fit gay men, they looked me up and down. One of them yelled, "Oh no honey, bring back the hot server!" I turned around and walked away. I felt defeated and gave the table to another server.
After working at a popular gay bar for as long as I did, I heard many similar stories from coworkers. The strain of trying to meet a certain standard was exhausting, and the feeling of inadequacy was pervasive. I wore a jacket when I worked, not because I was cold, but because it protected me from feeling judged. I also used substances to get through my shifts, which was a way to anesthetize my shame.
The clinical consequences of the male gayzed are real. Depression, eating disorders, substance use disorders, and low self-esteem are all significantly more prevalent among gay men, and body image is often at the center of it. A colleague once shared a tribute she wrote for a young gay man who died by suicide. She wrote, "The pressure he felt living amongst all those hard bodies in West Hollywood got to him like a poison in his brain. I wish he'd known he was beautiful. I wish he'd known his worth.”
I recently came across a photo of myself from my time working at the bar during Pride. I was in great shape, but I can vividly remember almost leaving my shift rather than put on the tight tank top we were required to wear. When I look at the photo now, I feel sadness for the version of myself who couldn't see what was actually there, so consumed by the male gayzed that I missed out on feeling good in my own body and being present with people I really loved.
One practical way we can start to heal from the male gayzed is to intentionally seek out spaces where bodies of all kinds are visible and normalized. For some people that might mean spending time at a Korean spa or bathhouse where nudity is ordinary and non-sexual, and where bodies are varied. For others, it might mean following accounts on social media with different body types, or simply noticing and challenging the internal reaction we have when we see a body that doesn't match the narrow standard we've been conditioned to see as ideal.
The goal is gradual exposure to the reality that there is no single standard of beauty, even if the male gayzed has spent years convincing us otherwise.
Anything we were taught, we can learn to unlearn.
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Chris Tompkins is a gay male therapist in West Hollywood (Los Angeles) who specializes in working with adult gay men, individuals and couples. He supports clients navigating identity, relationships, religious trauma, addiction, and self-esteem. To learn more, explore therapeutic services or schedule a free consultation.