Strangers used to tell me I was beautiful – now I’m called embarrassing

Strangers used to tell me I was beautiful – now I’m called embarrassing Margaret Gardiner Published November 28, 2025 4:00pm Share this article via whatsappShare this article via xCopy the link to this article.Link is copiedShare this article via facebook Comment now Comments These comments were in stark contrast to the messaging I’d received my whole life (Picture: Willem Botha)

Last November, I was bullied on social media for the first time. 

That it happened aged 65, is notable, I suppose. However it wasn’t so much the quantity of nasty comments I got (and there were a few, believe me) that surprised me, rather it was the content. 

‘Stop trying to be young.’ ‘She’s lost all her natural beauty’ and ‘You are an embarrassment.’ were probably the ones that stuck out most… 

These comments were in stark contrast to the messaging I’d received my whole life. 

At the age of five, while out shopping with my mum, strangers would stop, stare and smile at me with my gigantic white bow in my hair. ‘She’s so beautiful,’ they’d say.

Being the shy child I was, I hid behind my mum’s skirt whenever we got these comments. That is until she told me to stop being silly and smile back. ‘They’re just being nice,’ she said.  

To be honest, it was all pretty overwhelming (Picture: Bernard Jordan)

Then, at 15, I took part in a fitness pageant – a sort of beauty contest to promote the local gym – and, to my surprise, I placed second. That’s where things really took off.

One of the judges, a newspaper photographer, tracked me down and told me he’d shown my photo to the head of Elite Modeling Agency who, despite my inexperience, then invited me to model in Paris.

To be honest, it was all pretty overwhelming, especially as I didn’t consider my looks to be the key thing about me.

As the youngest of three girls, in my mind my older siblings had much more to offer. My eldest sister had the personality while my middle sister was the one that was unbelievably beautiful. As for me? I was the shy, bookish one.

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I booked my first job for Dior and later that week was flown to Germany to shoot my first magazine cover (Picture: Margaret Gardiner)

But that’s not how the world saw me.

Press in my home city went wild for the story, which led to a stream of articles before my departure. Within two weeks of arriving in Paris I booked my first job for Dior and later that week was flown to Germany to shoot my first magazine cover for a biweekly women’s magazine.

I figured I just got lucky, that people were being nice to me because I was clearly so inexperienced and shy. I honestly didn’t think of myself as beautiful, nor did I connect it with the success I was having.

Soon after though, I began to uncover the other side of getting attention for supposed good looks. 

I began to uncover the other side of getting attention for supposed good looks (Picture: Margaret Gardiner)

One day, while walking down a road with a bag of groceries clasped in each arm, a man approached me, grabbed my breasts with both hands and squeezed. 

Though my instinct was to run after him, physically confront him, or yell, I remember freezing to the spot in shock unsure what to do.  

Eventually, I turned aghast. He turned too, simply looked at my shock, laughed and then continued on his way.  

Sexual assault is sexual assault, no matter how you dice it, but I remember the whole thing made me feel weird, especially as I was dressed in baggy jeans and a normal white tee – obviously I know now that it has nothing to do with what you’re wearing.

At 18 I was crowned Miss Universe (Picture: Margaret Gardiner)

I wish I could say it was the only time I was assaulted, but sadly that’s not true. 

A few weeks later, while running down the metro stairs to catch the train, some guy walked into me and put his hand up my dress. 

This time around I yelled and pushed him backwards. People started to stop and notice, which thankfully made him scurry away but the whole thing had me close to tears and shaking.

Encounters like these, of which there are too numerous to mention, have happened throughout my life. But at that time I remember thinking why were these things happening to me? What was I doing to receive this unwanted attention?

I still didn’t go around thinking I was really the most beautiful woman in the universe (Picture: ©HFPA)

While I mulled these questions over in private, in my professional life, my looks continued to provide positive opportunities. 

At 18 I was crowned Miss Universe – which is widely considered the most prestigious international beauty contest – making me the first woman from Africa to take the title. Yet, I still didn’t go around thinking I was really the most beautiful woman in the universe.

I did, however, like that my new title came with a chaperone and body guards, which offered me a freedom.

By the time I was 26, I obtained my Bachelor of Science degree in psychology – which, whenever I told people about, usually received the same denigrating phrase: ‘You’re beautiful and smart!’ like the two couldn’t possibly go hand-in-hand – yet the stares kept coming.

Men looked at my breasts instead of my face (Picture: Willem Botha)

When I complained, my chaperone said: ‘You’re beautiful. Get used to being looked at.’ 

But I didn’t want to get used to it. It was dehumanizing. Men looked at my breasts instead of my face. Whereas women came at me with a lot of preconceptions, they’d often look me up and down and then turn away. 

In fact the only people I felt truly safe with were the women like me: models and beauty pageant contestants. 

There was none of the cattiness people like to assume exists between models, in fact, no one cared about looks. Rather they were warm, intelligent and kind and more interested in being outgoing, forward-leaning-women and changing the world.  

Of course things still happened as I got older, but less often (Picture: Kimo Lauer)

Finally, with a secure circle, I was able to adapt to being looked at. I developed a way of looking through the stares and learned to anticipate an approaching grope and how best to avoid it. 

Of course things still happened as I got older, but less often. And if they did, I made sure they would think twice before doing it again.

For example, one time at an event with my now husband and his friend, I felt my bum being caressed by a man behind me. I turned, grabbed his hair and pulled hard so his entire head jerked down to the level of his hips.

Then, I bent to his ear and said very strongly: ‘Don’t ever touch a woman without her permission again.’

Moments like that and generally how I handled myself in life gave me a reputation for being smart and assertive. Now those were words I did like.

(Picture: Willem Botha)

With hindsight, I can see that I was beautiful back then, everyone was right. But now that I’m post menopausal, I no longer feel that I have to prove myself in the same way.

People still comment on my ‘beauty’ – ‘you still look amazing,’ they say – but I know I don’t look anything like I used to, nor do I want to try and get back there.

That’s why, when I saw those bullies’ comments come rolling in on my social media, it felt like I had been accosted in a whole new way. Like the attack on the metro, only this time, it was psychological.

Find out more

Margaret Gardiner’s debut novel, Damaged Beauty: Joey Superstar (3rd April, £13.99) is available from all good bookstores here. Find out more about Margaret here and follow her Instagram.  

Comment now Have you experienced the backlash of being beautiful? Have your say in the comments belowComment Now

Once again though, I fought back. I don’t expect people to approve of my choices all the time, but I will no longer allow lines to be crossed that damage me in any way.

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Yes, I try to get to the gym 4 or 5 times a week, but that’s less about vanity and trying to make myself look ‘younger’ and more about enhancing my mental and physical health. And I wear what I want not for attention but because I like the look.

I don’t need anyone to look at me – that’s not, nor has it ever been, where my value lies – and the last thing I will ever do is stop living my life just because a troll on the internet suddenly doesn’t like how I look.

At 65 I love myself just the way I am, in fact, I love this version of me more than any other. 

Now being called ‘beautiful’ is no longer a dismissive word but a nod of respect, that finally embodies a life approach I feel I’ve truly earned. 

Do you have a story you’d like to share? Get in touch by emailing [email protected]. 

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