You know…
I searched for stretch mark images to insert into this article and the google images were filled up with stretch mark removal ads, it reminded me of my mid-teenage years in boarding school where a particular cream was popular amongst us for ‘clearing’ stretch marks. I didn’t use the cream not because I knew better but because I was (still am) a very lazy girl who couldn’t commit to applying the cream religiously so I told my friends “if it wasn’t meant to be there, it wouldn’t be there”
I didn’t know it at the time, but that was a quiet form of resistance. A lazy girl’s soft power.
Stretch marks also known as striae or striae distensae are a result of scarring of the skin in an off color hue like pink, purple or silvery-white. They are a result of tearing of the dermis (the middle skin layer) during rapid growth of the body like puberty, pregnancy, weight gain (in the form of fat and/or muscle), genetic factors, etc. The skin stretches or shrinks rapidly leading to rupture of collagen and elastin fibers that support the skin.
Certain medical conditions and medications can also lead to the development of stretch marks. For example, prolonged use of corticosteroids whether in creams, pills, or injections can thin the skin and reduce its elasticity, making it prone to tearing. Conditions like Cushing’s syndrome, Marfan syndrome, or Ehlers-Danlos syndrome can also increase the likelihood of stretch marks due to hormonal imbalances or issues with connective tissues. This tells us that stretch marks aren’t always about visible growth, they can also reflect internal imbalances or treatments the body is enduring.
As teenagers, we woke up to stretch marks on our laps, and chest region because of hip widening and breast growth. Mothers experience stretch marks on their bellies because of uterus expansion to accommodate the growth of a baby. Adults who bulk up at the gyms have stretch marks on their arms, thighs due to change in body weight. Stretch marks aren’t inherently bad, they can appear in forms that aren’t viewed as conventionally attractive but that just shows the extent the body went to cater for us and that stage of life we are in. Stretch marks are signs of the body’s labor, they are a kind of soft power, it doesn’t demand attention and even if it does, it’s asking for appreciation for the endurance and adaptation that the body went through. Soft power, in the political sense, is influence without coercion, its winning hearts, not battles and our bodies do the same.
They stretch quietly, accommodate silently, and leave behind marks not of weakness, but of grace under pressure.
Stretch marks are proof that something grew, something shifted, something powerful happened, even if it wasn’t loud. Growth takes a while and stretch marks are proof of the body experiencing growth.
In beauty politics, flawless skin is currency. Stretch marks, cellulite, acne are all deemed imperfections to be corrected, but who decided that the natural, lived-in state of our bodies was unworthy? When we’re taught to erase every line, what we’re really erasing is proof that we lived, changed, and adapted. Men get stretch marks too, but rarely are they shamed for it. For women, the politics of beauty intersect with the politics of control, we are told that our worth is tied to how desirable we look and desirability, in this world, is smooth and silent. Stretch marks speak too loudly of real life, of motherhood, of puberty, of transformation. And so we are told to hide them, cover them, and erase them.
Just like cultural soft power reshapes minds over time through art, fashion, and belief systems, our stretch marks reshape how we see ourselves if we let them. They ask us to reconsider what beauty is, what strength looks like, and how transformation shows up. The erasure of stretch marks isn’t just personal, it’s political.
When the world tells us to hide the evidence of our growth, it’s telling us to perform perfection at all costs. It’s no coincidence that the pressure to erase these so-called flaws falls more heavily on women, especially women of color, working-class women, and queer bodies; those under scrutiny already for existing outside the mainstream idea. Stretch marks become another battleground in the struggle for autonomy over our bodies. To accept them is to quietly resist the expectation that we must be polished and pristine to be worthy of love or respect. It is to say: I do not owe you a smooth story.
Reclaiming stretch marks is not about glorifying them, nor is it about forcing everyone to feel beautiful all the time. It’s about giving ourselves permission to exist without shame. To acknowledge the quiet power of our bodies, their capacity to hold change, to carry history, to survive. In this way, stretch marks are soft power incarnate: they don’t shout, they don’t force, they simply remain.
Reminders etched into our skin that something shifted here. Something stretched. Something lived. Something changed. Something existed.
I didn’t know it in boarding school, but my refusal to erase my stretch marks wasn’t laziness: it was a quiet defiance. A soft, unspoken belief that they were meant to be there, maybe they had a story to tell. And now, years later, I’m listening. The politics of beauty may still try to convince me that my body needs editing. But I’m learning to see these lines not as flaws to be corrected, but as footnotes of resilience. Like soft power, stretch marks don’t need to dominate to leave an impression. They just need to be seen.
AUTHOR BIO
Asogwa Ogochukwu is a Team Lead and Content Writer at The Feminist Code.
