Kudos!

I am, admittedly, a magazine junkie. From the Allures of years past, the Alternative Press' stuck underneath a chair in my room, the Seventeens scattered about (and now, recycled), or the Vogues, Vanity Fairs, and (last of my) Teen Vogues coming in, there is always a magazine in my bag and in my room for me to read.

Being the Director of Body Image for Women's Initiative made me a lot more sensitive to what I was consuming and, also admittedly, is what gave me the satisfaction of staring Vogue's "Body" Issue down and cynically peeling its pages to reveal shoddy, short, small snippets of 'advice' on how to make yourself look like every other thin model. I was disappointed, but not surprised; I subscribe to Vogue because I love fashion, and save my feminist feelings about body image for my time spent reading Ms., but I was sincerely hoping they'd provide women with some sort of feel-good piece about loving your body no matter what the shape and size (cliche, but always appropriate). 

This made me overjoyed to finally stumble upon the most beautiful of pieces on body image today, and in a strange place: Woman's Day. A magazine my aunt subscribed me to years ago, it's usually nothing but recipe cards and articles on cancer, saving money, and organizing- it is legitimately for women older than me, but I appreciate the cute ideas on cleaning out closets and consider myself aware enough to be able to relax with a magazine not focused on how to "figure out my flirting style." I've enjoyed the publication enough to subscribe again and again, probably because of the low-cal dessert recipes and the actual advice on eating healthy (versus starving) that I see in it regularly. 

The piece, entitled "Banish Body Issues," was written by Paula Spencer and focused on how to bring up daughters with positive body images. Expectant of corny ideas like keeping them from sweets and making sure they exercise, I was touched by the source of the piece: Spencer's own observation of her young daughter running freely through a sprinkler. Her daughter's sense of self-confidence and lack of body anxiety inspired Spencer enough to write a letter-style piece on how all mothers could improve their daughters lives with a good, body- and food-positive lifestyle.

The recommendations? They're simple enough. Stress happiness in your daughter's life to create a positive person inside of that body, and then celebrate what that body can do, rather than what it isn't. Be thankful for actual health and not for how starved you appear, free your child to actually savor sweets and stop letting things like scales, your own body image anxiety, and the word "diet" flow through your home, your discussions, and your life. Stress that there is no single shape and- my favorite- avoid the backwards compliments.

Those compliments are a far more complex issue than Woman's Day could have taken on, considering the article engulfed only five columns of space; it is an issue, however, definitely worth observing and consuming. Think of how many times we were giving positive feedback in the form of "have you lost weight?" or "those pants make you look so thin!" I know what it's like to be told that "you're really pretty, but you could lose five pounds," and it isn't empowering. We need to stop giving people positive feedback on their appearance that revolves completely around the American hunger for starvation in order to eliminate the presence of that threat from our children's lives.

So here's to you, Woman's Day, for recognizing the danger in thin-positivity and finally giving moms the reality we all need: that food is ours to enjoy, our bodies are ours to love, and anxiety about body image really can be ours to dissolve.

(Un)packing The Issues

I've been deconstructing my room for days now, trying to fit books and shoes and all kinds of things into boxes, bags, and corners in an effort to get ready to move into a real room, with four walls (this is a long story, but I only have three right now), a big closet, and a new paint job. This space may even allow for me to properly set up a little feminist "office," where I could pretend tweeting and blogging are the most rigorous parts of the job. I was going through notebooks of my youth, full of drawings and "i want a puppy" scrawled in to thin lined pages, when I realized a rather disturbing pattern- on every "to do" list, and on every sketched-out plan of my life, was the word "diet."

I couldn't have been more than 10 or 12 when I was writing most of these; I found a journal from the 6th grade in which I tracked my food intake and calories, assorted lists scrawled in color pencil that included the words "diet," "eat right," and "lose weight," and was immediately brought back to the many times as a child I imagined myself struggling with weight. In reality, I was always a healthy child, but I allowed those concerns to exist- and for what reason?

It always seems too easy to blame Barbie dolls, and I am reluctant to do so. I believe the problem is deeper embedded in young girls than a doll or an image- rather, it is, in my opinion, a part of the very image of femininity to worry about our weight. It has become consistently more mainstream for women to openly talk about struggling with their weight and body image, and rather than receive positive feedback, it has also become normal to do so to a chorus of "me too"s. It's impossible in an environment like that for girls to grow up without internalizing struggles with body image and interpreting them as signs of maturity, as I did. I can distinctly remember viewing diets and calorie restrictions and talk about "losing five pounds" as something that I would have to do as an adult, and therefore put myself through premature dieting, and borderline starvation, at the cost of wanting to be seen as "one of the gals."

As Director of Body Image for my campus group, Women's Initiative, I learned a lot about the media, family, friends, and how everything considered "normal" in America actually feeds into unhealthy bodily standards and a fixation on appearance. One of the most interesting facts I learned about body image, through research for a media paper, was that the media's portrayal of food as a social tool and a positive lifestyle enhancer actually fueled bulimia through its juxtaposition against models and celebrities who were rail-thin being praised as "perfect." 

I am not naive enough to think that the best approach towards healing a disordered-eating-prone society is simply to stop adults from talking about it; I am aware of the forces that shape our lives and know that struggling with appearance is hailed as "normal" and will be a phase of life that most women fall into harshly, with lack of information and lack of support. What I have advocated for in WI, and actively pursued as a course of action, is the coupling of that body image anxiety with real, comprehensive health education for women. Courses geared toward "keeping a healthy weight" and "losing weight" are not proactive; knowledge in how to "nurture your body" and "maintain your nutrition and health" are much more valuable and positive. My life was impacted greatly by a health course I took at The County College of Morris as a senior in high school, and I took that knowledge straight where it counted - the kitchen. By educating young girls about the benefits of healthy eating, and by encouraging them to eat enough instead of "get by;" by shifting the weight discussion to be about nurturing your physical health and not society's standards, and by eliminating the idea that numbers- be they on a scale or a measuring tape- can in any way indicate our health and social status, we can eradicate the hungers that too many of us look back on with disdain.

My promise to love my body, to treat it well, and to force society to deal with that, is the direct product of a long and tumultuous journey with my own body image, and the knowledge that perhaps, just perhaps, that action will prevent any other 6th graders from counting numbers and evaluating their worth on paper.