The high heel debate: Empowering, performative or oppressive? | Canada Voices

The Donna Karan high-heeled pumps sit in my closet – one of the most expensive pairs of shoes I’ve ever bought. They are sculptural, chic and undeniably sexy. But the pain of trying to wedge my feet into them is daunting. Still, I can’t bring myself to part with them.

Plus, there’s the fact that the high heel has most definitely returned. Consider the needle-thin numbers on the runways at Saint Laurent and Balenciaga, celebs such as Léa Seydoux in stiletto pumps at the Cannes Film Festival last month and Taylor Swift dining in New York’s West Village in refined pickle-stabbers paired with a short white frock.

Few items of clothing carry as much cultural baggage as high heels – which may explain why the shoe’s return has become such a heated topic online, with people debating everything from aesthetics to feminism across Reddit, TikTok and group chats.

For many women, it feels like a tough pill to swallow. But opting out can also feel like a compromise.

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Throughout history, prevailing notions around success, power and desirability have often been reflected in women’s footwear. From the T-straps and Mary Janes of the boundary-breaking flapper era to the power pumps of the ambitious eighties to Carrie Bradshaw’s Manolo Blahniks on Sex and the City, the height of a heel has long been tied to ideas of femininity, status and visibility.

The heel debate today feels especially fraught because women aren’t just arguing about shoes. They’re arguing about bodily autonomy and sexuality, professionalism and ambition, wellness and aging, femininity and tradition – and whether femininity itself is empowering, performative or both.

The moment also coincides with fashion’s broader return to polish. Suiting is back, as is corporate dressing. And high heels still carry symbolic power.

It’s also difficult to separate the shoe’s return from the politics of the moment. Hyper-feminine aesthetics are everywhere right now; think tradwives and Mormon wives, ultra-glamorous boss babe dressing (hello, Beyoncé and Kylie Jenner) and conservative political figures in sharply pointed pumps such as U.S. White House press secretary Karoline Leavitt.

So what are women really buying into when they don a pair of Louboutins?

“It’s confusing,” said Elizabeth Semmelhack, director and senior curator at the Bata Shoe Museum in Toronto. “The high heel has so much cultural meaning infused into it… it is not simply something that goes in and out of fashion. It carries with it the weight of a long history.”

There’s also the simple issue of pain.

After years of wellness culture, many women struggle to justify footwear that podiatrists routinely warn against. Nineties model Veronica Webb famously quipped that heels “put your ass on a pedestal,” but they also do a number on the body, from back strain to bunions.

For those of us whose feet have adapted to trendy (and comfy) sneakers, loafers and slides, the high heel requires some physical re-learning that many simply don’t have the patience for.

“Recently, I brought eight pairs of beautiful designer heels to Mine & Yours, a consignment store in Toronto, because my feet changed after pregnancy and I just couldn’t wear them anymore,” said Sara Koonar, president and founder of Toronto influencer agency Platform Talent. “It was painful to part with them, but they were collecting dust.”

The 39-year-old believes shoes are a powerful communicator. “If I want the meeting to feel warm, conversational, about building rapport, I’ll throw on an Adidas Samba with a suit,” she said. “It softens the whole look and makes you instantly more approachable. If I’m sitting down with a bank or an investor, it’s a high-heeled boot every time.”

British shoe retailer Kurt Geiger found that heels over four inches accounted for just 17 per cent of non-flat shoe sales in 2024, down from 47 per cent in 2014. North American retail data tells a similar story, with sneakers and lifestyle footwear continuing to dominate sales.

“The heel is no longer a prescribed symbol. It is a choice,” said Montreal-based stylist Pascale Larose Grisé. “Women still respond to what a heel represents emotionally – elegance, confidence, sensuality, authority. But beauty is expected to co–exist with real life.” For her, this season’s wardrobe includes an evening heel or stiletto but just as notably, an elevated sneaker, ballet flat, kitten heel or strappy sandal.

The entire dynamic has changed, she said, noting that women are increasingly dressing for themselves rather than external validation. “In this context, the heel becomes less about seduction and more about presence, posture and personal expression.”

Semmelhack has seen attempts to reintroduce high heels a number of times over the last few years, but they just don’t stick. Since sneakers became a legitimate fashion choice for women, practicality no longer automatically comes at the expense of style, she said. A-listers such as Hailey Bieber and Rihanna have made the sensible shoe undeniably cool and sexy. The curator also noted that the stiletto’s sexualized history, combined with its physical demands, makes it exclusionary by design.

“By their structure alone, they leave out the majority of women,” Semmelhack said.

Just like in the thirties, fifties and eighties, the return of the heel can be read as a barometer of a shifting consumer mood, one where the concept of femininity is being redefined amid a renewed appetite for glamour and tradition. This time, however, it’s different.

“We are not living in a time like the 1950s where Dior dictated the silhouette and women were expected to fall in line,” Semmelhack said.

So give me slides for work-from-home days and block-heel spectators for in-office meetings, and for those nights when I want to walk a little taller? Pass me the Louboutins, but don’t forget the Advil.