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The toxic world of body shaming

When I was in highschool, I decided to go on Weight Watchers. 

For those of you who don’t know about it, Weight Watchers is a program that helps people regulate their food intake by creating a point system for daily food consumption. Let’s see if I can remember: I think a piece of toast was two points, a handful of popcorn was three and a cup of pasta was four. I was “allowed” about 30 points a day. Essentially, it was a very problematic program for a growing, young and active girl.

As a six foot tall 15-year-old, I took up a lot more space than my dainty little friends. I wanted to be smaller because well, smaller is better. Smaller means you’ll get a boyfriend. Smaller means you’ll get a job. Smaller means you’ll look like people on television. Smaller means no one can ever make fun of you and all your problems will evaporate. Right?

A tale of an insecure teenager is nothing to write home about. If you were confident at 15, then I’m truly happy for you, but you’re also probably lying. There are a million reasons why you would feel insecure at that age, so my body issues felt temporary. In 30 years, I wouldn’t have to deal with this. I’d picture myself as a business woman with bigger things on my plate, strutting around in fancy blazers and a mature, but very hip short haircut. I thought my body was undesirable, but who didn’t at that age? I’d grow out of it.

One day I was at my friend’s house eating dinner and her mother (a blazer-wearing, short-haired queen) came down the stairs. She asked us what we thought of her new shirt. We smiled and told her she looked beautiful, and what happened next really stuck with me. She spent the next five minutes telling us how insecure she felt, saying the shirt made her look fat and ugly. I couldn’t believe it. There was no age limit to this bullshit? I was going to have to deal with this my whole life?

These questions of physical insecurity and self-esteem seem impossible to answer, but I think it all comes down to one thing: our society perpetuates the narrative that small is good and big is bad.

Lindy West, a writer and comedian, has been writing about fatness for almost 10 years. With charisma and wit, she has navigated the world as a fat activist, answering ignorant, damaging and repetitive questions about living in a larger body. According to an article she wrote in The Guardian, a recurring question she receives is, “By promoting fat acceptance, is there a risk that you are also promoting obesity and all its risks?”

West explains,

The question itself is an assault: it validates the idea that fat people’s humanity is one side of the debate, that our bodies are public property.”

Research shows that weight, contrary to popular belief, is not a health indicator. It is unacceptable and hypocritical to deny the rights of fat people by saying that this is encouraging their health problems. West writes, “If you claim to care about fat people’s health but do nothing to fight fat stigma, you are a liar.”

When my friend was in Grade 6, she had the flu and didn’t eat for 10 days. When she came to school the next week having lost weight, she received countless compliments about her body. How do you think that made her feel about how she looked before?

You might not see a link between my body insecurities and the dehumanization of fat people, but they are completely intertwined. What I need to understand is that even though my thoughts about my body are valid, the moment I voice them in hope for validation that I’m skinny or small enough, I am part of the problem. The moment I complain about my weight, I am insulting anyone around me that might be bigger than me. This is not because I’m calling them fat, but because I am alluding to the fact that, in order to be worthy and to be seen, we must be smaller.

Every time we compliment someone on losing weight, or we comment that someone looks “great” because they are smaller, we are demeaning the person they were before and anybody that’s bigger than them. It’s an implication that has demonstrated time and time again that we do not understand.

We are so invested in the idea that if we lose weight, things will get better. You might even notice that you are having an aversion to these statements right now. This is easier said than done. The notion is pervasive. The sooner we understand and attempt to push back, the better things will get because we simply cannot fight something we cannot see.

There are just so many more things to worry about. After all, we are all very busy, very important and Australia’s on fire. 

Graphic @sundaeghost

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The word “diet” needs a new, positive meaning

We need to change the way we approach body image and healthy lifestyles

I believe the word “diet” should only refer to the way someone eats, not what they eat in order to lose weight. In fact, the definition of the term is “food and drink regularly provided or consumed,” according to Merriam Webster. Yet, diets are no longer solely considered culinary choices in our society. Instead, they are a means to shed extra pounds. And so, whenever the word “diet” is used in a sentence, people grow pale and struggle to change the subject. Why? I believe the word diet and its contemporary meaning are the root cause of body shaming and eating disorders.

Coming from Lebanon, I tend to avoid the topic of diets, as they are the basis for existence among most Lebanese women. Unfortunately, their morning coffees would never be complete without an update on how their “regime” is going. From my experience, frequent dieters don’t tend to adopt “healthy diets” for the right reasons. They do it to look good aesthetically and conform to dominant beauty standards, rather than avoid cardiovascular diseases. Almost every adult who struggles with their body image will tell you it began with a traumatic comment heard in childhood about their excess body fat. It’s sad, it’s disgusting, but it is also the cold-hearted truth.

In my opinion, our unhealthy interpretation of diets can trigger eating disorders and self-destructive behaviours. According to the United States’ National Eating Disorders Association, 35 per cent of dieters progress to pathological dieting, and 20 to 25 per cent of those individuals develop eating disorders.

Recently, a Weight Watchers ad shamelessly called out child obesity. The company is offering free six-week gym memberships for teenagers between the ages of 13 to 17 this summer. In other words, the minute you start dealing with your teenage crisis, you can get a free gym membership to release your endorphins through exercise!

There was significant backlash on social media following the release of this ad, and many people claim 13 is too young to worry about weight. But it’s important to make a distinction between a child being curvy and a child being obese. Child obesity is a big problem that shouldn’t be glorified. It needs to be addressed in teenagers, not shunned as body shaming. Some argue that encouraging teenagers to lose weight can be misconstructed as body shaming—the seed from which an eating disorder can grow.

I resent that statement. I don’t believe Weight Watchers’ aim was to encourage body shaming, nor do I believe diets are meant to be evil. The connotations of the word “diet” certainly is though. The ad and people’s reactions to it just remind me of how people approach diets—wanting to make themselves look good instead of feel good.

Throughout their lives, people are encouraged to adopt a healthy, balanced lifestyle by eating well and exercising regularly. In my opinion, as long as adults support such habits, without resorting to hurtful comments or approaches, we can avoid the issue of people developing eating disorders after being shamed into “dieting.” For instance, a mother can teach her children healthier habits rather than reproach them for their sedentary lifestyles.

As parenting expert and author Alyson Schafer told Global News: “Modelling good habits and attitudes while discussing health from an educational perspective is key.” The only thing I am against is the distorted meaning of the word “diet” or “regime,” because they were originally used to describe the way a person eats, not dictate how they should lose weight. Just as the French phrase “regime alimentaire” emphasizes what you eat, “diet” should mean the same—not be synonymous with “zero calories!”

I believe in a balanced way of life, and encouraging someone to adopt a healthy diet and lifestyle isn’t a bad thing. We must change the way we view diets. So, in this new era of political correctness, let’s correct the “diet” policy, shall we?

Graphic by Alexa Hawksworth

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Feeling dreadful about our bodies

Body shaming is an omnipresent form of bullying enforced by the media

“Is it my fault? How could it not be my fault?”    

This stream of thought has run through my mind many times, pushing me to rigorously restrict myself and give in to unhealthy eating habits.

2017 has not failed to remind me of my poor diet. Several gym ads have already started to stress me out by guilting me into working out and get my beach body underway.

This constant reminder and underlying guilt is experienced daily by many. It is what I like to call “passive body shaming.” It occurs when the media perpetuates an ideal, often unattainable body type via commercials and advertising, in turn making you feel bad or guilty of your own appearance. This form of bullying takes many shapes and can have a serious physical and psychological consequences . Body shaming is highly common in schools, the workplace and public spaces. It affects individuals who don’t think they meet beauty standards established by the media. There is often a double standard—women are judged more often and earlier in life than men, according to a study conducted by the Rudd Center for Food Policy of Connecticut University.

Beauty standards shaped by the media play an important role in how we see ourselves, and the standards are different depending on where one comes from, their culture, or their gender. The first time I experienced fat shaming was in junior high when I moved to a new town. At the time, what led the bullies to lash out was the environment. This rich Parisian suburb had a different standard of beauty and body image compared to the countryside where I was originally from. My body was rather buff, from years of rock-climbing and snowboarding, whereas my female classmates were thin and gentle-looking.

It’s not only the students who are bullying, as the Rudd Center study states. They are also teachers, parents, colleagues, superiors and strangers who create daily stress and insecurity for many. While some perpetrators might use body shaming to motivate the targeted individual to lose weight, it often has the opposite effect. In fact, body shaming lead to induced anxiety and depression, as well as binge eating and embarrassment of exercising, according to the New York Times.

From my own experience facing judgement from strangers and the dirty looks I have gotten when I was eating by myself has forced me to be more self-conscious while I snack. I remember being told: “Maybe if she didn’t eat so much she would look better.”

For years, the media, strangers and classmates have shaped my vision of the perfect body type. Their so-called “helpful” comments, including the generic “just take smaller quantities,” “exercise more” or the great “you just need to control yourself,” have done more harm than good.

Today, if someone asks me what kind of body type I would ideally want, I will mention Korean pop idols for their slender bodies. My own standard of beauty has been incredibly influenced by the media, and it is also a standard that is physically unattainable. To overcome body shaming, one needs to be confident and practice self-love. Ending the constant competition and comparison regarding body types will empower and tighten communities.

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Student Life

Black, big, beautiful: a “Real Talk” about body-shaming

DESTA hosted a talk about the preconceived notions surrounding overweight black women

A discussion about the stereotypes and negative connotations associated with overweight black women, and the media’s effect on the way society perceives black women’s bodies took place at last week’s DESTA Black Youth Network “Real Talk” session.

DESTA, an acronym for “Dare Every Soul To Achieve”, is a non-profit, community-based organization that serves marginalized and at-risk youth, aged 18 to 25 in Montreal. According to DESTA’s website, the organization’s mission is to mentor these youths in the areas of education, health, personal development and employment through activities, workshops and mentor support.

Personal accounts, understanding and attentive ears filled the room in DESTA’s basement on Sept. 14.  Sitting in front of a half-moon-shaped crowd of about 30 attendees, 22-year-old LaSalle college fashion marketing student Nyoka Hunter led her first “Real Talk” discussion entitled “Fat Black Women: How We Do Them Wrong.”

The “Real Talk” monthly discussions are part of a new series DESTA has launched.  The discussions are open to the public, with the goal of providing a learning centre, and a welcoming environment to address different social issues affecting Montreal’s marginalized youth. The discussion sessions don’t feature any experts or specialists, but instead have only one facilitator—someone to guide the talk, open the floor for discussion, and to present the matter in a researched, but personal way.

The success of DESTA’s “Real Talk” on cultural appropriation inspired Hunter to create this event. “I heard a lot of different perspectives surrounding the topic, and that motivated me to want to do this event based on fat black women and how they are perceived in the media, [by] their families, friends, just in general,” she said.

Hunter began the discussion by talking about how the media portrays overweight black women. She addressed black women’s place in Hollywood, and the types of acting roles that leaner black women might get, in comparison to overweight black women.

According to a Vice News article released on Sept. 7, a new University of California study found that out of 35,205 characters from the 800 films studied between 2007 and 2015, only 31.5 per cent of speaking characters were female, and only 26.3 per cent of the total amount of characters were racial minorities.

Not only are black women underrepresented on the big screen, but like other minority groups in the area, they are also not necessarily being well represented.

In a 2013 USA TODAY article, journalist Arienne Thompson discussed how the roles available for black women in Hollywood still lack depth. In the article, interview subject Jubba Seyyid, the senior director of programming of TV One, a black-oriented cable network, said the roles available are one-dimensional. She explained how black women are always depicted as aggressive and “bitchy,” creating characters that lack balance.

Hunter also talked about the fashion industry and “fatphobia,” as well as the so-called “plus-sized models” of the industry. “The industry advertises these average-sized girls as being ‘acceptable fat,’” said Hunter. However, she said body-loving and feminist social media personalities and activists such as Ashleigh Shackelford and Mercedes Brissett are shedding light on black women and weight. Hunter said it is important to raise new questions and discuss different perspectives to keep the dialogue rolling.

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