Shakti means divine energy, power or force. Shakti is divine feminine power which we all have inside of us regardless of gender. My dear friend Maria suggested that I call my blog ‘Shakti speaks’. This strongly resonates with me as the ideas, inspirations and frustrations inside me are wanting to outpour, and so this blog feels like a great space to channel my inner Shakti. I hope someone out there can relate to what I share and finds connection, solace, humour, upliftment and challenge in what I share. I invite respectful, open-hearted, open-minded dialogue. This is a zero tolerance to negativity platform. This blog aims to share, explore and offer mutual support to each other to navigate our way through our pasts, presents and futures…
The Allure of Subtlety vs. Boldness: A Personal Reflection on Beauty, Seduction, and Cultural Identity:
Recently, I came across an Instagram reel by @nurjahanboulden where she posed a thought-provoking question to her followers: “What’s the difference between the belly dance she performs in a fitted dress versus a loose one?” It got me thinking about how clothing, movement, and culture shape perceptions of beauty and sensuality.
To me, the loose-fitting clothing combined with her sensual belly dance moves is understated yet undeniably seductive. There’s something about her whole body being covered, with hardly any bare skin showing, that feels more alluring. Her womanly curves are less obvious in the flowing dress, but the way her movements accentuate the fabric creates a captivating flow, drawing the eye in a way that's both subtle and irresistible. It’s a delicate balance, where less is more, leaving more to the imagination.
On the other hand, the tight, fitted dress is equally stunning. It shows off her curves clearly, emphasising her shapeliness. But there’s a raw, bold confidence in the way she owns that look, letting every angle and curve be seen. It’s beautiful and empowering in its own right, but I find myself drawn more to the loose dress. There’s an elegance in its mystery, a sense of allure in the spaces between the fabric and the body.
As a British Pakistani woman, I was raised in a culture where beauty was often associated with subtlety and modesty. The notion of attractiveness wasn’t about flaunting one’s body or wearing revealing clothing. It was about leaving a lot to the imagination - the delicate way a scarf is wrapped around the head or neck, or how a loose garment gently flowed over the body, hinting at what lies beneath. Growing up, this understated approach felt like a quiet power, one that communicated sensuality without being overt.
I am by no means criticising Western culture, being British born and raised myself, I have been strongly influenced by western notions and ideals of feminine attractiveness and beauty. Western culture often celebrates the boldness of tight-fitting clothes and the confidence of openly displaying one’s body. I admire and appreciate that perspective as well. However, my upbringing and Eastern heritage have shaped how I perceive beauty. In the Pakistani culture I was raised in, there was a belief that what was left unseen often spoke louder than what was visible. It was a way of saying, "There’s more to me than what you can see." This subtlety, the art of leaving something to the imagination, always felt far more seductive to me than the focus on revealing every detail of the body.
I must acknowledge that my upbringing was not without its challenges. Raised in an abusive and patriarchal family structure, I was not allowed the freedom to express myself or my sexuality. Any expression of overt femininity or sensuality was seen as sinful, and the penalties for that expression were high and harmful.
In my early life, being female meant that shame, silence, and confinement were actively programmed into me by male and female family members. The amazing and natural physiological wonders of menstruation and pregnancy were seen as "unclean" and something to be hidden, especially in public. I remember feeling the weight of that shame from a very young age, watching as pregnant women in the family were criticised for showing their baby bumps. It created a deep confusion about my own body, and I grew up feeling disconnected from it.
Over time, I’ve embarked on a journey of conscious transmutation - transforming the negative experiences, narratives and beliefs passed down to me into something empowering. I’ve learned to take the shame that was instilled in me about being a woman and shame about my body and turn it into a source of power. I now see beauty not oppression, in the graceful flow of a woman in a long, loose dress, dancing with subtle movements that leave more to the observer's imagination. The mystery of what’s hidden beneath the fabric is, to me, far more seductive and sexy than what’s openly displayed. The allure lies in what remains unseen.
That being said, I also see beauty in women wearing tight, form-fitting clothing and confidently displaying their shapeliness. There is something incredibly powerful and unapologetic about a woman who can walk into a room and say, “Here I am, this is who I am, and I’m not afraid to show it.” It’s a bold, confident statement, one that radiates sexual appeal and empowerment in its own right.
In the end, both expressions of beauty have their place in the world. Both forms of femininity are powerful amongst the many other forms of feminine expression. Each one speaks to a different side of who we are as women: one that is mysterious, subtle, and alluring, and one that is bold, confident, and unafraid to be seen. Both are beautiful, seductive, and undeniably sexy in their own ways.
Ultimately, beauty is not defined by the clothes we wear but by the way we carry ourselves. It’s in the way we move, the way we own our bodies, and the way we express our uniqueness. No matter the attire, it’s the confidence and the grace behind it that truly make us shine.
With appreciation,
Samina
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