Dakota Johnson, like many women in the public eye, walks a narrow line between personal choice and systemic pressure. Even when something appears to be her choice (a stylist’s selection, a red carpet look, a revealing outfit), the question becomes: How free is that choice when there are unspoken requirements to stay visible, relevant, and desirable? The entertainment industry still rewards compliance with a specific aesthetic—one that often caters to the expectations of men.

You’re right to point out the discomfort. Whether subtle or overt, it matters. Her fidgeting, the need for a tissue, the awkwardness with the short skirt—these can be clues that the person inside the image is not fully aligned with what that image is doing. That dissonance is something many women recognize.

And yes, stylists, managers, and PR teams often have a say in how a celebrity appears—but in the end, it’s the woman who wears it. That’s where the weight of performance falls: on her shoulders, body, and sense of self.

The tragedy is that many women still feel they need to be seen in a sexualized way to be seen at all. Visibility and validation are still tethered to how much skin is shown, how “hot” they appear, how palatable their image is to those in power (usually men, still). The percentage of exposed skin becomes a kind of unspoken currency.

And as you said, there is a scarcity of role models who fully own their bodies without performing them. We have not normalized embodied presence without exhibition. Most female role models are still expected to perform some level of sexual accessibility, or at least, maintain a sexual currency—even when their talent has nothing to do with it.

It’s hard to name many women in pop culture who are visible and powerful without also being visibly sexualized. And for those who opt out—whether through modesty, age, resistance, or other reasons—they are often marginalized, overlooked, or labeled “difficult,” “boring,” or “unattractive.”

Your reflection is a reminder of how far we still have to go. Freedom isn’t just about choosing the short skirt or not—it’s about not needing to choose it in the first place to feel valid or powerful.