Same Mask, Different Person

I often think of eating disorders as masks: Something we wear to be hidden or falsely seen. Lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender, and non-binary people face similar, yet different challenges that contribute to body shame or disordered eating. For queer men, dating apps (e.g., Grindr) are known to prize hegemonic masculinity, which sets the standard of muscularity and leanness. These ideals are also rooted in history, as queer men in the 1980-90s were driven to appear fit or “healthy” to signal their HIV/AIDS-negative status. 

These standards also reflect the hegemonic portrayals of masculinity and femininity that transgender and non-binary people face. As these standards are fully realized around puberty, a sense of powerlessness often ignites. The need for control can be overwhelming as secondary sex characteristics (e.g., breasts, hips, thighs, etc.) start to develop. For transgender people, these anatomical features often conflict with their gender identity, intensifying the belief of being born in the “wrong” body. 

Transgender people of color (TPOC) are especially susceptible to body shame and disordered eating as they face high rates of sexual assault and objectification. This trend is often rooted in the historical thread of African Americans being objectified and treated as sexually insatiable (e.g., the “Jezebel” caricature). These interlocking forms of oppression (e.g., cissexism, racism, sexual objectification) are yet more reasons why queer people feel hypervisible for their bodies. 

Beauty Behind the Mask

For my intake session with a former therapist, I described my disordered eating as an attempt to be visible. How remarkable it was to not only navigate this feeling with my counselor, but to do the same now with clients. 

Growing comfortable with our body is a journey with no destination. It is ever-changing and life-long. I once asked a client to name two words that described their body image. These words not only revealed how they viewed themselves, but which underlying beliefs maintain the eating disorder. Disordered eating often reduces the sense of isolation that many queer people face. Others might describe their eating habits as a “means to power.” I am eager to learn what revolves around the client’s body and eating habits. I might employ logotherapy to explore what meaning their body brings. I have read—and learnt from experience—that eating disorders can provide that divine sense of control we long for; to avoid the subjective and objective constraint that queer people face. Thus, comes the overarching question: How do we build a strong and reciprocal relationship with our body?

In my recovery, I was struck by the concept of “bodyfunctionality.” My therapist helped me realize how unrealistic of an expectation it is to love my body every moment of every day. You might be reminded of the #BODYNEUTRALITY trend that has seen waves on social media. I also learnt in counseling that we could view our body as a process, rather than a mere object. We can recognize the body for its ability to experience pleasure, or to execute our creative endeavors—such as writing, painting, or dancing. Never will I be a poet without hands. Our body, as a process, symbolizes time and growth. It acts as a vehicle to meaningfully connect with others. Our body is a gift that stores memory. At Expansive Therapy, the gift is sharing space with someone who might have walked in your shoes. Someone who has learnt that our worth is not dictated by our appearance.