“How come most of the world’s strongest men are shown as white?” This question was the spark for a long, thoughtful conversation my friend and I had over the weekend.

It all comes down to ego, assumptions, and a narrow view of what constitutes excellence. The Western world’s immense wealth, historical achievements, and territorial expansion have fostered the belief that its cultural, technological, and athletic standards are unsurpassed. This mindset permeates every facet of Western society—sports, fashion, technology, business, and even beauty.

Consider the beauty industry: the idealized image of “the most beautiful woman in the world” often adheres to a Western template—characterized by delicate features such as a thin nose, full lips, long hair, and high cheekbones. Fashion scouts, even when searching in regions like Africa, frequently seek out these Western standards. In some cases, women in high-fashion are expected to embody an almost androgynous look reminiscent of prepubescent boys. Such standards not only narrow the definition of beauty but also ignore the vast diversity and richness of global aesthetics.

A similar dynamic is at work in the sports industry. Western sports competitions are assumed to be the ultimate proving grounds, where victory automatically translates into being the best in the world. Yet, this overlooks countless athletes whose strengths remain undiscovered simply because they never had the opportunity to compete on the Western stage. The young man from a small African village who carries heavy rocks daily, building immense physical strength through labor and tradition, might easily outperform athletes in organized competitions—but his prowess remains unnoticed.

The assumption that those who win Western competitions are the best is flawed. They are only the best among those who have been discovered by the existing sports infrastructure. There could very well be an exceptional athlete in a remote village in Nepal, whose natural strength and endurance would shatter records in Western sports—if only he were given the chance to compete.

This way of thinking echoes the colonial mindset. Explorers returning from distant lands often claimed to be the first to “discover” regions already inhabited by thriving communities. In both cases, the narrative centers around a single cultural perspective that fails to acknowledge the richness and variety of human experience. Until every strong individual around the globe is given a platform to showcase their abilities, any claim to global supremacy remains inherently parochial.

In essence, the debate about strength in sports is not simply about physical prowess. It is also a commentary on how cultural biases and limited exposure shape our perceptions of what is “best.” True excellence cannot be confined to the winners of established competitions—it must also include the unsung heroes of remote communities whose everyday lives are a testament to their remarkable abilities.