Love Your Body Week is insulting. Not only does the week’s theme belittle the very notion of beauty, but it is, quite honestly, the antithesis of feminism. Underlying all this talk of “loving your body” is the notion that you should accept who you are in spite of X, Y, Z, which, in this case, means accepting who you are regardless of your body type. But how can we if we are bombarded all week long with reminders of our inferiority?
“Eating Disorders Awareness Week” does not tackle the underlying cause and instead has simply amounted to five days of flyer-induced self-loathing. Java City, Barnard’s “Blue Java,” in Altschul Hall, is host to many-a poster featuring beautiful actresses. Keira Knightleys and Angelina Jolies line the wall, all to prove that real women don’t look like that. Real women don’t have flat stomachs and toned thighs. This is the message that Love Your Body Week is propagating: we aren’t as beautiful as those in Hollywood. “Love your body” even though society might find you aesthetically repulsive.
By drawing a distinction between the “beautiful” and the “women of Barnard,” we are inherently declaring that the students are not as beautiful—and can never be as beautiful—as anyone we see on TV. Is anyone else aware of the insane contradiction here? This is subliminal messaging, and no one is discussing it. Where are all the Big Brother conspiracy theorists now?
Frankly, I’m insulted. I’m not denying the validity of the week’s talking points, but plastering them all over campus and reminding us what the “cultural perspective of beauty” is very strongly implies that we would not be considered “beautiful” by society, but that we should buck up and deal with it.
The root problem in anorexia nervosa is dissatisfaction—someone who’s content with their life and image does not suffer from the disease. I do not mean to push the problem under the carpet, but let’s not delude ourselves either. To make an important impact on the percentage of our students who suffer from “poor body image,” we would have to help them transform into people who are genuinely happy with themselves, which has nothing to do with “body type” per se.
Intellectually, everyone knows that “it’s what’s on the inside that counts.” But anorexia is not an “intellectual” problem. It’s an emotional one. We cannot combat the disease by categorically telling women that they are beautiful (or by belittling them by reminding them of what they can never achieve) because the true problem isn’t their opinion of their body—that is only the proximate cause.
Eating disorders are the physical manifestation of “feeling bad.” When we feel lousy, we want to make ourselves feel better, so we pick something about ourselves that we don’t like and that we think we can change. For some, this manifests in destructive behavior, like refusing to eat. Everyone agrees that we can’t resolve anorexia by shoving food in people’s mouths—it leaves the underlying issue unresolved.
We need to do more than solve the proximate cause. The true and ultimate fix would ensure a prolonged happiness, which, I can assure you, is not brought about by hanging up posters of Angelina Jolie and Keira Knightly right next to the full-length mirrors that litter Barnard’s campus.
Take pictures of the so-called “real women” that you’re always talking about, smiling and laughing, and plaster those on every available surface to which tape can adhere. How about surprising us with free coupons for Java City? After all, happiness is a warm cup—especially a free one. Or how about “Free Hug Day?" Just try to make us feel happy—that’s the real way to combat anorexia. Of course, free coffee will only get us so far. The true key to happiness is having a meaningful goal and then striving to achieve it. Eating disorders are a type of misinformed goal, so women need to be presented with new options. This may be difficult to mandate, but advisors and friends can take it upon themselves to look out for their fellow woman. Combat the root of depression so that it won’t manifest itself in self-destructive behavior. I cannot recapitulate hundreds of years of psychoanalytical theory about what makes someone happy, but it is clear that this is where we need to start.
The author is a Barnard College first-year.