As long as I can remember, I have had a great deal of respect and gratitude for the body. I like my body in particular. It works. It is the reason I am me. When I was three years old my mom gave birth to my little sister. Delighted to have a younger sibling, it was a hard pill to swallow when we came to find that she was born with some very severe disabilities, including something called Down Syndrome. Her body was very different from mine inside and out. It was always, and will always be, a great weight on my heart to know that she will never know what it is like to have a body like mine. Because of that, gratitude comes easy.
Every week, my Grandma brings over her copy of People magazine for my Mom and I to peruse. It’s a guilty pleasure that I actively try to avoid, but every once in a while I’ll flip through the rag just to see what’s happening with my fave celebs (but then I remember that Tina Fey, Amy Poehler and Ellen Page are hardly ever featured in such magazines and put the magazine down). But this week happened to be one of the weeks where I succumbed. Hey, it’s Summer, and flipping through a crappy magazine that doesn’t require much thought or effort on my part sounded nice.
It wasn’t even a prominent article. It was a tiny box on the cover of past American Idol winner Jordin Sparks. The article itself …
Love The Body You’ve Got (Take It From A Fat Girl)
I recall a time in elementary school when a friend tried to defend me from a few bullies by saying that I “wasn’t fat, just big-boned.” A few years later, I had a teacher who — probably in an attempt to keep my ego intact — wouldn’t let kids say “fat” in class, only “fluffy.”
To set the record straight, I do not have abnormally large bones. And I am not, nor have I ever been, a rabbit. But whether it’s these sugar-coated terms or the painfully unoriginal “ugly fat girl,” I’ve never quite been able to shake my overweight status for long.
Despite a few traumatizing events (i.e. falling off the jungle gym, losing my paper pilgrim’s hat on Thanksgiving, etc.), I have relatively good memories of elementary school. …
Saturday Vids: Andre’a – The 16 Year Old Body Image Role Model
This video needs little introduction – it speaks for itself – but I will say I originally saw this video on the website We Are The Real Deal and immediately wanted (want) to be Andre’a's best friend, because she is awesome, and we can all learn a thing or two from her confidence and positive message.
Elena Rossini is a film director, cinematographer and editor from Italy. She’s also a really awesome woman who is working on multiple feminist projects, including a documentary about the manipulation of women’s bodies in our culture (The Illusionists) and an awesome blog (No Country for Young Women) that works to connect women across generations (that I happen to have been featured on). One of my favorite works of Elena’s, however, is her short film “Ideal Women” which was commissioned by ARTE/the Louvre Museum’s project “4 Semaines” and which I was lucky enough to see at the Endangered Species Summit. Enjoy!
In case no one has told you recently, you are a loaded gun. Some see you as a helpless victim, pulling your woman card and begging for your right to abortion, always complaining about your time spent in front of a hot stove. Others see you as a butch, bullying your way into careers rightfully belonging to men. Seems like you’re always burning bras, abusing your right to free speech, and holding offensive picket signs. Many consider you a flaming lesbian, or at least Hilary Clinton’s part time lover. You whine, you refuse to let him open your door, and you can pay for your own damn dinner. In fact, you’re a full blown man eater.
I have heard these rumors. I see the news; I hear the …
Body Image in the Media: Glee Gets It Right, But Are We Ready?
Every once in a while, usually when 30 Rock is a re-run, I’ll flip over to the CW. And I kind of get the draw of the utterly escapist fantasies that shows like 90210 and Gossip Girl offer. Serena Van Der Woodsen / Blake Lively is like 14 feet tall with blonde hair that cascades over her shoulders as she effortlessly hails a cab on her way to a club – that just so happens to blithely serve the underage – in order to sabatoge another rich, white, tall, thin, personality-less girl in a plan that always seems to involve drugs or faked pregnancies or a trip to Geneva or something that probably could’ve been solved had she invited her nemesis to have a nice talk over Chai tea. But …