Let’s play a game. A man locks you in a glass cage in the basement of a bookstore. He stalks you, hacks your devices, and quite literally murders your friends.
Do you:
A) Run for your life
B) Call the police
C) Tweet “why is this kinda hot tho 😩”
If you answered C… congratulations, you’re the internet. And the man? Joe Goldberg from Netflix’s YOU, portrayed by Penn Badgley — who, let’s admit, is criminally attractive. Emphasis on the criminally.
But the weirdest part of watching YOU isn’t the murder. It’s the fan edits. The thirst tweets. The borderline petitions to get kidnapped by Joe. It’s the way we, as a society, went from “this man is a dangerous sociopath” to “ugh I wish someone loved me like this.”
We don’t just forgive beautiful people — we defend them. Relentlessly. Blindly. And a little too enthusiastically.
THE ETHICS OF EYE CANDY
We’ve always had a soft spot for villains with good jawlines. Joe Goldberg (YOU), Nate Jacobs (Euphoria), Damon Salvatore (The Vampire Diaries), Chuck Bass (Gossip Girl), even actual serial killer Ted Bundy — all men who did deeply questionable, often outright violent things, but were continuously romanticized because they were played by conventionally attractive actors. Bonus points if they brooded, whispered when angry, had a tragic childhood, or stared into the distance like they were trying to remember how to feel.
Their actions? Disturbing.
Their faces? Symmetrical.
And that, apparently, is what tips the scales.
Think about it: Joe literally stalks and murders women. Nate emotionally manipulates everyone around him. Damon kills people for breakfast. Chuck attempted sexual assault in episode one. But somehow, fandoms built Tumblr pages, fan edits, and thirst threads dedicated to them. They got shipped, softened, and rebranded as misunderstood romantics instead of the dangerous men they actually were. And when the narrative finally tried to course-correct or hold them accountable, many fans pushed back like justice was a personal attack on their comfort character.
But hey, that’s the magic of Hollywood cheekbones, right?
And it’s not just the men.
People still stan Harley Quinn despite the fact that she’s literally killed people with a smile and a mallet. Villanelle from Killing Eve is a full-blown sociopath who murders for fun, but her fashion sense and sharp one-liners somehow make her endearing. And let’s not forget Amy Dunne from Gone Girl — a manipulative genius who faked her own death, framed her husband for murder, and became a feminist icon. Why? Because she was brilliant, beautiful, and terrifyingly composed. A walking red flag in designer heels.
We’ve somehow blurred the line between fascination and forgiveness — and made it completely dependent on aesthetics. If you’re good-looking, your crimes are “iconic.” If you’re hot and witty while doing it? “Ugh, queen.” But if you’re not conventionally attractive? You’re not getting a quirky redemption arc — you’re getting canceled, arrested, or simply ignored.
It’s like we’ve collectively decided that beauty grants depth, danger equals charisma, and trauma automatically justifies toxicity — as long as you’re dressed well and camera-ready. It’s the villain-to-lover pipeline, except we never really make them stop being villains. We just hand them a fanbase and a romantic playlist.
This isn’t just pop culture obsession — it’s a reflection of our real-life double standards. We don’t love villains because they’re bad. We love them because they’re bad and beautiful. And somehow, that makes it all feel less threatening, more thrilling, and infinitely easier to excuse.
Because in our media and in our minds, attractiveness doesn’t just open doors. It wipes slates clean.
Beauty Is the Real Main Character
Here’s the truth: we live in a world that treats attractiveness like a moral quality, almost as if beauty were a character trait in itself. It’s like a subtle rule we all follow without ever discussing it — a tacit agreement that if someone is beautiful, they must be good, or at the very least, deserving of empathy. Their actions, even when they’re questionable, get filtered through a lens of charm, aesthetics, and the comforting assumption that “they didn’t mean it.” After all, they’re so pretty, they couldn’t possibly be that bad, right?
Take, for example, someone attractive having a meltdown. What’s our usual reaction? “Oh, they’re just under a lot of pressure. They’ve been through so much.” We bend over backward to rationalize and comfort them. It’s almost like we see their breakdown as a fleeting moment, something to be excused because of their looks. Now, let’s switch it up: someone unattractive has the exact same meltdown, and suddenly, the narrative shifts. “Yikes. That’s unhinged. What’s their problem?” The person doesn’t even have the luxury of being given a moment of weakness — they’re judged harshly, seen as unstable or irrational, simply because they don’t fit the beauty mold.
Beauty is not in the face; beauty is a light in the heart. Beauty is not in the face; beauty is in the soul. What you see on the outside is not what you get, what you get is what’s on the inside, and that’s where true beauty comes from.
Kahlil Gibran
The same logic applies when it comes to crime. An attractive person commits a crime, and the first thing we ask is, “What’s the full story?” We try to understand the circumstances, to find a deeper reason for their actions. Maybe they were just in the wrong place at the wrong time, or maybe they were acting out of desperation. It’s as if their good looks provide an unspoken excuse for their bad behavior. Now, take the unattractive person committing the exact same crime. The response is swift, and there’s no room for ambiguity. “That’s the story. Full stop.” No second chances, no empathy — just judgment.
The crazy part is that we project this complexity, this depth, onto people who meet our beauty standards, even when they’ve done absolutely nothing to earn it. We see them as multidimensional, capable of nuance and redemption, simply because they fit the visual mold of what we find appealing. On the flip side, we strip away any chance of understanding for those who don’t fit those standards. They’re seen as one-dimensional, as less human, less capable of growth or forgiveness.
It’s a strange double standard that permeates not only how we view people in the public eye but how we interact with the people in our everyday lives. Attractiveness isn’t just a superficial trait in this equation; it becomes a moral code, a shield that protects people from the same scrutiny others face. And it’s not just in our media consumption — it’s in the workplace, the courtroom, the classroom, and even the most personal relationships. We’re trained, often without realizing it, to believe that beauty equals depth, and the lack of it equals deficiency. It’s an unfair, toxic pattern, and yet, we continue to play along.
Pretty Privilege Has a Kill Count
Jeremy Meeks — the infamous “hot felon” — became an internet sensation after his mugshot went viral. With his chiseled jawline, piercing eyes, and a look that could make anyone weak in the knees, Meeks had the kind of face that not only made him famous but also propelled him into a modeling career. Forget the fact that his previous job involved criminal activity; his looks turned him into a marketable product. It’s almost as if we, as a society, were more willing to forgive his past because he was “too good-looking” to be “just a criminal.”
Meanwhile, Black and brown men — many of whom don’t conform to the Eurocentric beauty standards — continue to face systemic over-policing and are often scrutinized for merely existing. One face garners thirsty tweets and endorsement deals, while the other gets met with surveillance cameras, stop-and-frisk tactics, and unfair profiling. This stark contrast is the ugly truth of how beauty and race intersect with justice, and it’s a cycle that perpetuates privilege in ways we rarely address.
It doesn’t stop there. Studies have shown that in school systems, teachers are more likely to assume that attractive students are smarter, kinder, and better behaved, even when their grades don’t reflect it. The bias is ingrained so deeply that it affects everything from academic opportunities to how students are treated in the classroom.
And perhaps most telling is how beauty impacts the criminal justice system. Attractive defendants — regardless of their guilt — are statistically more likely to receive lighter sentences. This phenomenon has been widely documented in both criminal justice studies and pop culture. It’s as if our society has created an unspoken law: good looks literally buy you time. Whether it’s a reduced prison sentence or a lesser punishment, a good-looking person is far more likely to be given a second chance. That alone should disturb us. It’s a glaring reminder of how aesthetic biases permeate every part of our lives, even determining who gets to be forgiven, who gets empathy, and who gets punished.
The world is not in short supply of beauty. What we’re lacking is kindness
But this issue isn’t just about appearances; it’s about what society codes as safe, desirable, and forgivable. When we collectively decide that beauty means “worthiness,” we ignore the complex, nuanced humanity of people who fall outside those parameters. People who don’t fit these beauty ideals are often denied the same grace, understanding, or empathy. Those who are perceived as unattractive, unconventional, or “less desirable” are punished more harshly for their flaws, while attractive individuals are allowed the freedom to be messy, angry, broken, or “just having a bad day” without it affecting their reputation.
It’s about who is allowed to make mistakes and be forgiven, and who is held to an impossible standard because they don’t meet the visual norms. Attractive people are often given the benefit of the doubt — they can be complex, they can struggle, and they can even be morally ambiguous because, deep down, we expect them to come out on top, to be redeemed. But those who don’t fit those boxes, whether due to race, body type, or perceived ugliness, don’t get that same grace. Instead, they are judged harshly, dismissed, or even villainized.
This isn’t just superficial — it’s a structural issue that reinforces privilege, biases, and inequities in every facet of our lives. And until we start recognizing these biases for what they are — a way to protect some while punishing others — we’ll continue to live in a world where being beautiful isn’t just a gift, it’s a get-out-of-jail-free card.
WHY HUMANIZE PEOPLE DIFFERENTLY
When Penn Badgley called out fans of YOU for romanticizing Joe Goldberg, he wasn’t being dramatic — he was being observant. And when he said, “We are able to be patient and forgive someone who is attractive and has a body like mine, skin like mine, gender like mine — and much less to forgive people who don’t fit those boxes,” he wasn’t just talking about the show. He was talking about us.
The truth is, we extend empathy selectively. We offer “healing” to certain people and “punishment” to others. We let some people “grow through their mistakes,” while others get canceled before they speak. We forgive flaws when they’re packaged correctly — hot, white, able-bodied, slim — and forget there’s a whole world of people who never even got the benefit of the doubt.
MEDIA TRAINED THINKING
Think about it. When was the last time you saw a fat villain who got a redemption arc? Or a dark-skinned, non-Eurocentric character who was labeled “complicated” instead of just “evil”? The fact is, when marginalized characters are portrayed in media, they’re often reduced to flat stereotypes or dehumanized entirely. They’re not allowed to have depth, nuance, or complexity. Instead, they are confined to the roles society assigns them: the villain, the sidekick, the tragic character who can’t possibly grow beyond their struggles. But when it comes to hot white men? They get layers. They get a backstory. They get “he’s fighting his demons.” They get Spotify playlists, Tumblr fan cams, and an eventual, often undeserved redemption arc. It’s like the more attractive someone is, the more excuses we’re willing to make for them — even when their actions are undeniably toxic.
And no, we’re not saying you can’t enjoy these shows, or find characters attractive, or appreciate a morally grey protagonist. That’s all part of the fun of storytelling. But we can ask: why are we so quick to glorify certain types of toxicity, and so unwilling to understand others? Why do we look the other way when the good-looking character does something morally questionable, but hold others to an impossible standard, stripping them of their humanity in the process? Why do we bend over backwards to find excuses for pretty people, yet trip over ourselves trying to demonize anyone who doesn’t look the part?
True beauty is not about what’s on the outside, it’s about what’s on the inside — but let’s not pretend that the outside doesn’t matter
It’s a glaring double standard that’s not just reserved for the screen. It’s something we do in real life, too. Whether it’s the workplace, the classroom, or even within our social circles, attractive people get away with things that others simply don’t. The expectations for behavior are different. The grace extended to them is disproportionate. And it’s all rooted in how we perceive beauty — as something that not only makes us feel good, but somehow makes the person good too.
This is where things get tricky. We’ve built an entire narrative around attractiveness, and we constantly reinforce the idea that being beautiful means being worthy of compassion, empathy, and forgiveness. Meanwhile, those who don’t fit the “ideal” are stripped of the very same consideration. This isn’t just about looking good in a TV show or getting more likes on Instagram. It’s about how we treat people in real life, based on arbitrary, deeply ingrained standards of beauty. And that, ultimately, affects how we understand morality, vulnerability, and humanity itself.
So, next time you find yourself rooting for the hot villain or the tortured, attractive antihero, maybe ask yourself: why does their beauty make their bad behavior easier to accept? And why is it so much harder for others, with different looks or different stories, to get that same grace?
MAYBE WE’RE THE RED FLAG
Let’s be honest — it’s not about Joe Goldberg, or Nate Jacobs, or any one character. It’s about us. Our projections. Our biases. Our refusal to admit that sometimes, we excuse the inexcusable just because the person doing it looks like someone we’d match with on Hinge. We’ve all been there. We’ve all watched that hot villain and thought, “Well, they’re probably just misunderstood.” And hey, who hasn’t daydreamed about being swept off their feet by the brooding guy with the perfect jawline? But here’s the kicker: that’s not justice. That’s favoritism with lip filler — pretty on the outside, but hollow in its fairness.
So the next time you catch yourself saying, “He’s not toxic, he’s just stunning,” take a moment to pause and reflect. Ask yourself, really ask yourself: Would I still feel this way if he wasn’t attractive? Would I still romanticize this if the person didn’t fit the body type, skin tone, or aesthetic I’ve been conditioned to admire?
It’s a hard question, right? But if your answer’s no — if your answer’s that you’d never cut someone else that much slack — then congrats, you’ve just spotted the real red flag. And spoiler alert: it’s us. It’s all of us. We’ve been swiping right on this bias for years, and it’s time we start swiping left.
People are always judging based on appearance. We have been taught that this is normal, but it’s not. There is so much more to a person than what is on the outside.
Now, don’t get me wrong — there’s nothing wrong with appreciating someone’s looks, whether it’s an actor, a character, or even someone you see at a coffee shop. We all have our preferences. But the real work comes when we start looking beyond the surface. It’s about recognizing that people, all people, deserve the same understanding and empathy — regardless of their appearance. It’s about remembering that bad behavior isn’t excusable just because someone is easy on the eyes. And maybe, just maybe, the person who doesn’t fit the typical mold has just as much depth, just as many layers, and just as much capacity for redemption as the so-called “perfect” ones we love to idolize.
So let’s start being honest with ourselves. Let’s take a closer look, not just at the characters we obsess over, but at our own biases. Maybe then, we’ll start giving people — all people — the chance to be messy, flawed, and, yes, even beautiful in their own unique way. And who knows? We might just end up with a more forgiving, kinder, and more inclusive world. One where the real beauty is in how we see each other, not just how we look.
For more content, check out Her Campus at MUJ.
And if you’d like to explore more of my world, visit my corner at HCMUJ — Aditi Thakur