If you were an alien who came to our bookstores - or browsed our

Rainbow Rowell, the weaver of stories for the young and the restless, once declared with sharp clarity: “If you were an alien who came to our bookstores—or browsed our teen magazines—you’d think that only Earth girls who look like Mila Kunis ever got any action.” Though cloaked in humor, her words carry the weight of critique. She calls attention to the narrow images of beauty and desirability that dominate popular culture, showing how media creates false realities that crush the self-worth of those who do not fit the mold.

The origin of this truth lies in the landscape of bookshelves and glossy covers that surround youth. For decades, magazines and stories have exalted a singular image of femininity: the flawless, thin, symmetrical, glamorous girl, whose beauty seems to grant her both romance and purpose. By invoking Mila Kunis, Rowell uses a symbol—an actress admired for her striking looks—to highlight how the media convinces us that only those who resemble such icons are worthy of love. To the imaginary alien visitor, this illusion would appear as fact. To us, who live under its spell, it becomes a subtle prison.

The ancients, too, wrestled with ideals of beauty. In the myths of Greece, Helen of Troy was celebrated as the face that launched a thousand ships, her beauty depicted as the key to desire and conflict. Yet even in those myths, countless women of wisdom, strength, and virtue stood in the shadows, uncelebrated. Rowell’s lament is a modern echo of this ancient error: the idolizing of a narrow standard, while the richness of diversity remains unseen.

Consider the tale of Frida Kahlo, the painter who broke every mold. She bore scars, illness, and pain, yet her art radiated passion, selfhood, and power. She did not conform to the polished beauty sold by magazines, but she became a global icon because she revealed the truth of the human spirit. Kahlo’s life reminds us that the power of authenticity outshines the illusion of perfection. Where the media might have overlooked her, history has lifted her voice above the noise.

Rowell’s words also speak to the loneliness of youth who do not see themselves reflected in the stories they consume. When every magazine and every novel insists that only one kind of girl is worthy of affection, countless others feel invisible. This falsehood breeds despair, envy, and a hunger for validation that should never be necessary. It blinds the young to the truth that beauty is infinite, varied, and radiant in forms beyond what media chooses to display.

The lesson is powerful: beware of images crafted by culture, for they are not mirrors of truth but paintings of illusion. Do not measure your worth against the glossy page or the scripted story. Recognize that desirability and love are not confined to one shape, one color, one style, but flow from the soul’s light, from humor, kindness, strength, and presence. Every human being is worthy of being seen, of being cherished, of being loved—not just those who resemble idols chosen by an industry.

Practical wisdom flows from this: diversify the stories you consume. Seek books, films, and art that portray all kinds of people as full and worthy. If you create stories yourself, write characters who reflect the richness of real life, not the narrowness of stereotypes. And in your own heart, learn to value yourself beyond the gaze of others. Do not ask, “Do I look like the image?” but rather, “Do I live with truth, courage, and love?” For this is the beauty that never fades.

So, children of tomorrow, remember Rainbow Rowell’s teaching: the images of culture are not the final word on love or worth. They may tell you that only the Mila Kunis lookalikes are chosen, but history, art, and life tell another story—that love belongs to all, and beauty is as vast as the stars. Break free of false idols, and you will see yourself, and others, as radiant beings deserving of affection, dignity, and joy.