I knew I was cursed the minute my latte hit the floor. Not in the dramatic, hexed-by-a-witch kind of way, but in the subtle, slow-burn chaos that follows after you post a little too much joy online.
I had just uploaded a carousel on Instagram. You know the one— Travel shots, a cute OOTD, a new bag, fresh nails, the whole shebang. The vibe? Immaculate! The caption? Sassy. The aftermath? Chaotic… One spilled coffee, a broken heel, and a delayed-flight-turned-overnight-layover later, I was texting my mom asking if I should pray, cleanse my aura, or just delete my Instagram altogether.
In the era of soft curses and spiritual paranoia, bad luck is never just bad luck. From talismanic emojis, to reels, and a flurry of TikToks dissecting the topic, the evil eye has made its way into the mainstream.
Also known as nazar, the concept of the evil eye is anything but new. The belief that envy can manifest as misfortune spans decades, cultures, and religions from the Middle East and South Asia to the Mediterranean and beyond. Growing up, I always saw it as folkloric. My South Asian mother, on the other hand, has been warning me about it since the day I was old enough to twirl in a sparkly dress. “Don’t let people praise you too much,” she’d say. “Say Mashallah, or they’ll jinx it,” she’d religiously add.
Back then, I’d roll my eyes at her advice. Now? I crop out the expensive-looking stuff from my pictures. I pause before I post my wins, and always say a little prayer lest someone gets jealous the rare times I do. I’ve become hyper-aware of how my life might look from the outside because God forbid I inadvertently invite bad vibes into my space just by sharing too much.
Some might say it’s social media’s fault and honestly, that tracks. Being the most online generation in history means our lives are mostly on display. With that comes exposure to people’s judgments, their envy, and, yes, their negative energy too. Put it this way: in a matter of a few years, we went from “pics, or it didn’t happen” to “don’t post, or it won’t happen.”
To quote my younger sister: “Not to be dramatic, but I’m 97% sure I got the evil eye the last time I posted a humble brag online. I used to share things in the moment, a job opportunity, a night out, an exciting trip, and almost like clockwork, that thing would go to smithereens. Something always went wrong. Now? I wait. I don’t post right away if at all. I give it time to settle, feel real, and be mine before it’s the internet’s.”
And the big question now is: are we just superstitious, or is there something more to this?
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The rational part of my brain says, “No girl, your bad day wasn’t a curse. Your alarm just didn’t go off because you forgot to charge your phone.” But another part, the part that can feel the vibes shift in rooms, isn’t so sure.
Some fiercely believe in the evil eye. Every flat tire, missed payment, or stubbed toe is a sign. At first, I thought it was a bit much. But then I noticed it can be somewhat comforting to have something to blame. When Mercury’s in retrograde and your ex gets engaged, “it’s the evil eye” hits softer than “unlucky me.” In turn, wearing that blue glass bead, and saying “Mashallah” offers a sense of control in a world that often brings anything but.
That’s perhaps why this belief is experiencing such a resurgence. It gives shape to invisible emotions— envy, insecurity, and fear— and provides, even if only illusory, protection from them. In a hyper-judgy world, spiritual armor might feel necessary, especially when your entire life is one swipe away from public consumption.
Call it superstition or strategy, but can we really fault GenZs for being mindful of their online presence? For an entire generation that’s grown up with the internet, reclaiming a little privacy in a space that’s always watching, always judging, feels like a small act of self-preservation. It acknowledges, in a way, that envy, comparison, and digital vulnerability are real, even if nazar isn’t. And the psychological benefits of such a mindset— regardless of whether it’s rooted in superstition or self-care— can’t be ignored. If it makes you feel better, even if it’s just the placebo effect of it all, why not embrace it? And it’s brought great fashion along the way too.
While Gen Zs didn’t invent the evil eye, they’ve certainly reimagined it. No longer just a symbol of superstition, it’s become a must-have accessory; think evil eye beads in pastel tones, christal bundles on shelves, canva-friendly moon rituals. It’s cute. It’s aesthetic. A scroll through Instagram also shows models, influencers, and even brands like Dior and Elie Saab hopping on the evil eye train. The line between cultural belief and commodification is a blurry one.
So whether Gen Zs are truly cursed or not remains unclear, but one thing’s for sure: they’re cautious, spiritually in tune, a little anxious, a little aesthetic, and navigating modern life one evil eye emoji or bracelet at a time.
