by Saint Browder
These are scary times for the United States. The language of division grows louder, institutions are tested in ways they haven’t been in generations, and the public sphere feels increasingly tense and uncertain. In moments like this, it is tempting to focus only on the loudest expressions of political extremism — the rallies, the legislation, the headlines. But another layer of political change happens through culture. We see this through symbols, aesthetics, and the ways people present themselves to the world.
Beyond the headlines, I have found myself paying close attention to the politicians and pundits who are frequently on the news: not just their deliberate, abhorrent actions, but also the ways they intentionally present themselves, especially within group identities. This is not a new concept; every fascist wave has its own fashion and symbols. Many are easily identifiable: the swastikas and tailored suits of the Nazis, the black shirts of Mussolini, the shaved heads and combat boots of the ’80s skinheads.
At present, it is particularly notable how authoritarian aesthetics are emerging within women’s political spaces. The pressures around beauty and aging do not simply come from magazines or fashion runways anymore. They are reproduced in political and religious spaces as well, where certain kinds of femininity are quietly treated as moral virtues. In recent years, commentators have even coined phrases like “Mar-a-Lago face,” referring to a highly curated, surgically maintained aesthetic associated with elite conservative social circles. It is an image built on expensive procedures and relentless maintenance, presenting youth not as a gift but as an obligation. Kristi Noem, Lara Trump, and Laura Loomer are a few examples of women whose public appearance has come to reflect this shared aesthetic. Whether through surgery, fillers, or standardized beauty styling — blonde hair, smooth skin, and exaggerated facial symmetry — the effect is a kind of visual uniformity.
There is nothing inherently wrong with this specific look; it’s the fact that it is so prevalent, to the point of propaganda, that is concerning. Seen this way, the phenomenon is not merely about vanity or personal choice. It reflects a broader intersection of politics, media spectacle, and gender norms. Appearance itself has become a language of allegiance and status.
What is striking is not merely the existence of these beauty standards, but the contradiction they reveal. I find it important to remind myself that this is yet another way a group that claims to put God first is twisting the words and intentions of God. Many of the same voices that speak loudly about humility, modesty, and God-given identity often participate in systems that demand women erase the very signs of living the life God has granted us: wrinkles from years of laughter, softening bodies from age, or skin that shows fatigue and change. The message becomes clear: faith is proclaimed in word, but strict adherence to “perfection” is demanded in appearance.
Scripture offers a radically different understanding of the body. The Psalmist’s declaration that we are “fearfully and wonderfully made” in Psalm 139:14 reminds us that the human body is not a project to be endlessly corrected, but a work already imbued with divine intention. To age is not to fail; it is to continue participating in the unfolding of God’s creation. Every line in a face, every shift in form, is evidence of time lived, relationships held, grief endured, and joy experienced.
Likewise, when Paul writes in 1 Corinthians 6:19-20 that our bodies are temples of the Holy Spirit, the image is not one of a space constantly renovated to match the latest trend. Temples carry the marks of history. Stones weathered, surfaces bore traces of ritual and time, and yet they remained holy precisely because they were places where life with God had occurred. In that sense, the body’s changes over time do not diminish its sacredness. Instead, they testify to it.
To treat the body primarily as something to discipline into social acceptability or aesthetic perfection is to misunderstand its purpose. Our bodies are not commodities for public approval. They are vessels through which we love, serve, create, grieve, and worship. When we measure our worth against shifting cultural ideals — whether the fleeting trends of fashion or the surgically polished image of elite social circles — we risk replacing God’s declaration of goodness with the world’s far narrower definition of beauty.
Remembering this can be an act of resistance, especially when the problems we are faced with seem impossible to resist. To accept the body as it is — growing older, changing shape, bearing the marks of living — is not complacency but faithfulness. It is trusting that the Creator who called creation “very good” did not intend for us to spend our lives waging war against our own reflection.
It is also vital that we do not allow God’s word to be overwritten in our hearts and minds by the statements we hear from politicians or the constant noise of the news cycle. These voices of power can be loud, persuasive, and relentless, but they are not the voice of the Gospel. The message we are called to follow is one rooted in love, mercy, justice, and radical welcome. Our God is not a god of hatred, exclusion, or fear. When political movements attempt to cloak themselves in Christian language while promoting division or cruelty, we must be discerning. Christian Nationalism does not have the right to replace our faith with its falsehoods or to redefine the Gospel in ways that contradict the life and teachings of Christ.
In this season of Lent, it is ever-important to be courageous in our witnessing. Lent calls us to reflection, repentance, and renewal, but it also calls us to clarity about who we follow. Jesus consistently stood with those whom society rejected. He welcomed the stranger, defended the oppressed, and challenged systems that harmed the vulnerable. If we claim to follow him, then our lives must reflect that same courage and compassion.
We cannot sit idly by when fear is used to justify injustice. We cannot remain silent when the dignity of our neighbors is denied. Faithfulness sometimes requires us to speak when it would be easier to stay quiet, and to stand when it would be more comfortable to sit. Courage in witnessing does not mean shouting louder than everyone else; it means remaining steadfast in truth, love, and hope even when the world around us pulls in another direction.
Lent reminds us that transformation is possible: within our hearts, within our communities, and within our nation. As people of faith, we are called not only to pray for a more just and compassionate world, but to help build it. Through our voices, our actions, and our solidarity with those seeking safety and dignity, we bear witness to the Gospel that cannot be replaced, rewritten, or silenced.
Discussion Questions:
- How can you use your gift of discernment to identify subtler propaganda such as beauty standards?
- What can you do to encourage self-love in yourself and your community?
- How can your faith community work towards perfect acceptance rather than perfection?
Closing prayer:
Loving God, we give you thanks for our bodies, perfectly made just as they are. We ask for your guidance to see ourselves as your temples, vessels of your love. Grant us the wisdom and discernment we need to see through false prophets who would twist your words to support their agendas. Grant us the strength and resilience we need as we boldly stand up for your message of love.
Saint Browder (they/them/theirs) is a current Lutheran Volunteer Corps fellow working with Women of the ELCA. They are located just outside Washington D.C., where they are frequently witness to beautiful resistance.