theshamedynamic

“it does not matter how slowly you go, so long as you do not stop.”  -Confucius

I have always been an impatient person.  When my sister was born, my mother used to joke that if we were flowers, she would be a black eyed susan and I would be an impatien.  I feel like I’m constantly moving, waiting for the next thing to happen, and excited by possibilities for change while being frustrated at the slow rate.

In mental health and addiction recovery, change is slow.  It’s a very frustrating business on both ends, counselor and client.  Most times, our behavioral patterns have been in place for years and years, built from childhood experiences and thoughts, reinforced by years of adulthood.  To change our habits and to change our deepest beliefs about ourselves, others and the world, beliefs that have been built for decades, may also take decades.  It is a slow process in its nature.

From the outside, change seems simple, and it’s my contention this is where much of our frustration stems from as friends and family members of those with issues, or those of us who struggle with issues ourselves.  Our failures are large and often visible, and our successes are ordinary and small.  It’s rare to celebrate another day sober or another day out of the hospital, but each time we slip looms large.  At times, it becomes hard to remember why we wanted to start changing in the first place.

It is at these times when I go back to one of my favorite quotes, reminding me that recovery takes time.  Changing behavior takes time.  It is said that the definition of insanity is doing the same thing but expecting different results; however, we have learned from hard experience how to move in our world, and to move differently is uncomfortable, frightening and usually takes time to catch on.  Our small successes build on each other.  It takes 365 small, ordinary days out of the hospital to make one year.

Take some time to forgive yourself today.  Forgive yourself if you’ve slipped, if you kept the lessons from your life, even when you wanted to change.  Just don’t stop trying.  It doesn’t matter how slowly you go, as long as you do not stop.

It started with this picture.  This one, right here.

Leaving aside the lack of other magazines on the shelves with people of color (I looked, and every other glossy had a white lady on the front), this juxtaposition has been haunting me.

I love buying magazines like Essence, because it’s so different from traditional magazines that are marketed to women.  Thinking about Cosmopolitan, People, Women’s Day, Redbook, Vogue etc., there is something radical about putting the words “love your body” on the front of a magazine without a diet tip section next to it.  Especially when the magazine next to it has a skinny white lady with “Look Great at Any Age” and “Eat More and Lose Weight.”

I discussed my feelings with one of my black friends, after showing her the picture.  She told me that black women have to love their curves “because they’re not going anywhere.”

There is an abundance of information and articles about the intersection of racism and body image.  I am in love with the idea of natural bodies being loved, enjoying differences in shape and appreciation of larger women (my own bias, no doubt, as a larger woman).  More in depth analysis can be read HERE  and HERE and HERE for background.

Conflict and problem for me stems from the idea that only women of color can appreciate their bodies as they are, that only women of color have curves “that aren’t going anywhere.”  My argument isn’t overtly about black versus white, it’s another permutation of the long standing idea that white women are supposed to look a certain way versus women of color.

There is a long history of racism at work here, and I’m unable to speak from my experience, as I come from a place of privilege as a cis, able-bodied, white woman from a middle class home.  However, to change these attitudes we woman need to work together rather than against each other, toward appreciation of all bodies.  We need to understand the science of weight, that our bodies resist change, and that healthy people exist in all sizes.  Love your body.

I’ve been dating people in and around the punk rock scene for a little under 10 years now, and I’ve been noticing more and more this insidious expectation.  I’ve had more than one boyfriend tell me they love my body or love my shape, and while that’s fine, I could never figure out why it sort of rubbed me the wrong way.  Why did they feel it was necessary to comment on my body?

I gained some clarity on my discomfort a couple years ago, when I overheard a boyfriend’s mother talking to her friend about how he was a “chubby chaser.” I remember very clearly the flush of shame I felt, how much I felt I was defined by my body.  And that is the problem.

So much time we spend talking about how we shouldn’t be definted by our bodies, how our bodies are simple vehicles for our minds and our personalities.  Much is made of the effort to remind society that all bodies can be beautiful and attractive.  But somehow, the effort has spawned this idea that dating a “fat chick” is some sort of statement against society.

I am not a counterculture statement.

You do not date someone to prove a point.  You do not date someone to prove how anti-society you are.  You do not date someone because you think you shouldn’t date what you are expected to date.

Date the people you like, who you are attracted to.  I am not a counterculture statement.  And to make me one is to perpetuate all those standards you claim to hate so much.

on the eating disorder scale, anorexia was always fascinating to me.  all eating disorders are about control, but this one was control NOT doing things, where bulimia was more about being out of control then retaking it.

via feministing.com, a personal look at anorexia.

diets, parents, restricting, outside control.  carl rogers, father of humanistic psychology, built his theory on the idea that our problems come from outside “conditions of worth” placed on us from outside sources, parents, friends, society etc.  it’s times like this when life proves the theory right.

So like many people who are putting thoughts out there in the vast internets I read a number of different blogs and news sites, and it seems in recent weeks there is a growing trend of pieces discussing street harassment.

Street harassment, that time honored tradition of yelling at people (majority women) who are simply walking down the street or going about their business, has been coming under fire, most notably from Project Hollaback.  Take a look for a brief primer on street harassment (link to video with animation) and how it is viewed by men  and women.

Community mental health centers usually operate in the most dangerous parts of the city, where there is (usually) the most need.  Those streets where people without homes gather, where shelters are, where churches pass out sandwiches at 11am and pharmacies give away drugs with vouchers, these are the areas where CMH is king.

My colleagues and I walk to my office from a gated parking lot.  We walk past a homeless shelter and the alley between the shelter and our building.  Each day when leaving the car, there is a moment I take to brace myself for the walk.  Head up, eye contact, shoulders back.  Do not engage, just nod and say good morning.  Because each day there are men (and women) who will try to engage or at least make comments.

The woman in the office next to mine told me she feels fearful each time she leaves her car and when she leaves the office at 5pm.  She states she feels harassed and every day has someone say something to her, usually focused on her body.

I have the same experience, but feel little fear.  I’m not sure if it’s because I started my career in mental health at a residential facility full of male parolees/probationers, who rake each female employee over with their eyes any chance they get.  It was a write up there; usually if one is a counselor, one’s own clients would stick up for their own counselor (“don’t look at her that way, don’t say that, that’s my counselor) and the counselor would take a moment to explain to whoever was doing the looking that it was inappropriate.

This sort of ogling was so entrenched at that center that being on the street where the worst I’ve heard is “you look so pretty today” is really no big deal.  But I also found myself thinking in a bit of a twisted way…I felt jealous of my colleague.

Let me be clear – street harassment sucks.  It reduces women to their bodies only.  It’s totally dehumanizing.  And it’s unsolicited; I doubt most women are getting dressed up to get leered at and hassled on the street.  Comments are not needed for validation, especially not from strangers.

Oddly enough, however, it is a sort of confirmation, an affirmation that one is desirable enough to elicit these comments.  I often talk with my mother about older women and their invisibility in our society (more on that here) but women who don’t fit normal standards are often invisible too.

Body type, race, age.  When we get harassed on the street, does that make you feel just a little bit different?  Like you’ve still got to deal with all the bullshit other women do?  Does it unite us in anger and hatred and a thirst for justice?  And how does it make those women who do not get harassed feel?

Confession: I never worried about being raped in high school or college because I wasn’t thin (and at that point did not consider myself even remotely attractive).  This, of course, did not stop my experiences with sexual assault, and its been shown over and over that appearance has little to do with rape.  And yet, my attitude was so warped, so distorted, and I wonder if I still have a little bit of that.  When I get yelled at and feel a little validated and a lot irritated, is that validation a remnant of my attitude?

Throughout my work thinking about and looking at research on body image and psychology, there has been an interesting theme of privilege which has emerged.  Privilege and I were first introduced during my time in graduate school, to assist in the understanding of racial injustice.  Any privilege is a complex issue to understand, and can best be understood as benefits through no fault or merit of your own, as a result of systematic valuing of your own characteristics over someone else’s.  White privilege, straight privilege, male privilege, American privilege.

Putting body weight in this category is controversial, as it should be.  Research is still spotty on the truth or changeability of ideas about body weight set points, the efficacy of diet and exercise, medical interventions and different body types by genetics.  It’s a wonder body weight is even being considered at all.  Most health care offices one enters (including my own) have signs reassuring clients they will not experience discrimination as a result of race, ethnicity, gender, language, sexual orientation, [sometimes] ability to pay.  Does weight belong there?

I grew up and have been trying to organize my thoughts on the matter for years.  Having begun writing and expressing my own thoughts on the subject, it has again become salient for me.  This piece from The Frisky does it better than I probably could.

I am a size 10 or 12, so I feel the same way.  Although I am not thin, I have begun to take my own privilege into account.  Recovery is for all sizes.

For now, enjoy pictures of fat women in bikinis (not real women, because as we’ve discussed, we are all real, no matter the size).