Sunday, April 22, 2012
Age 21
I am a 21 year old Bostonian girl. When I look in the mirror I see unwanted blemishes, sad eyes and dark brown skin. I see a self-conscience and insecure human being who wants to be outside of herself.
Wednesday, April 11, 2012
An Open Letter From Ashley Judd
The Conversation about women’s bodies exists largely outside of us, while it is also directed at (and marketed to) us, and used to define and control us. The Conversation about women happens everywhere, publicly and privately. We are described and detailed, our faces and bodies analyzed and picked apart, our worth ascertained and ascribed based on the reduction of personhood to simple physical objectification. Our voices, our personhood, our potential, and our accomplishments are regularly minimized and muted.As an actor and woman who, at times, avails herself of the media, I am painfully aware of the conversation about women’s bodies, and it frequently migrates to my own body. I know this, even though my personal practice is to ignore what is written about me. I do not, for example, read interviews I do with news outlets. I hold that it is none of my business what people think of me. I arrived at this belief after first, when I began working as an actor 18 years ago, reading everything. I evolved into selecting only the “good” pieces to read. Over time, I matured into the understanding that good and bad are equally fanciful interpretations. I do not want to give my power, my self-esteem, or my autonomy, to any person, place, or thing outside myself. I thus abstain from all media about myself. The only thing that matters is how I feel about myself, my personal integrity, and my relationship with my Creator. Of course, it’s wonderful to be held in esteem and fond regard by family, friends, and community, but a central part of my spiritual practice is letting go of otheration. And casting one’s lot with the public is dangerous and self-destructive, and I value myself too much to do that.
However, the recent speculation and accusations in March feel different, and my colleagues and friends encouraged me to know what was being said. Consequently, I choose to address it because the conversation was pointedly nasty, gendered, and misogynistic and embodies what all girls and women in our culture, to a greater or lesser degree, endure every day, in ways both outrageous and subtle. The assault on our body image, the hypersexualization of girls and women and subsequent degradation of our sexuality as we walk through the decades, and the general incessant objectification is what this conversation allegedly about my face is really about.
A brief analysis demonstrates that the following “conclusions” were all made on the exact same day, March 20, about the exact same woman (me), looking the exact same way, based on the exact same television appearance. The following examples are real, and come from a variety of (so-called!) legitimate news outlets (such as HuffPo, MSNBC, etc.), tabloid press, and social media:
One: When I am sick for more than a month and on medication (multiple rounds of steroids), the accusation is that because my face looks puffy, I have “clearly had work done,” with otherwise credible reporters with great bravo “identifying” precisely the procedures I allegedly have had done.
Two: When my skin is nearly flawless, and at age 43, I do not yet have visible wrinkles that can be seen on television, I have had “work done,” with media outlets bolstered by consulting with plastic surgeons I have never met who “conclude” what procedures I have “clearly” had. (Notice that this is a “back-handed compliment,” too—I look so good! It simply cannot possibly be real!)
Three: When my 2012 face looks different than it did when I filmed Double Jeopardy in 1998, I am accused of having “messed up” my face (polite language here, the F word is being used more often), with a passionate lament that “Ashley has lost her familiar beauty audiences loved her for.”
Four: When I have gained weight, going from my usual size two/four to a six/eight after a lazy six months of not exercising, and that weight gain shows in my face and arms, I am a “cow” and a “pig” and I “better watch out” because my husband “is looking for his second wife.” (Did you catch how this one engenders competition and fear between women? How it also suggests that my husband values me based only on my physical appearance? Classic sexism. We won’t even address how extraordinary it is that a size eight would be heckled as “fat.”)
Five: In perhaps the coup de grace, when I am acting in a dramatic scene in Missing—the plot stating I am emotionally distressed and have been awake and on the run for days—viewers remarks ranged from “What the f--k did she do to her face?” to cautionary gloating, “Ladies, look at the work!” Footage from “Missing” obviously dates prior to March, and the remarks about how I look while playing a character powerfully illustrate the contagious and vicious nature of the conversation. The accusations and lies, introduced to the public, now apply to me as a woman across space and time; to me as any woman and to me as every woman.
That women are joining in the ongoing disassembling of my appearance is salient. Patriarchy is not men. Patriarchy is a system in which both women and men participate. It privileges, inter alia, the interests of boys and men over the bodily integrity, autonomy, and dignity of girls and women. It is subtle, insidious, and never more dangerous than when women passionately deny that they themselves are engaging in it. This abnormal obsession with women’s faces and bodies has become so normal that we (I include myself at times—I absolutely fall for it still) have internalized patriarchy almost seamlessly. We are unable at times to identify ourselves as our own denigrating abusers, or as abusing other girls and women.
A case in point is that this conversation was initially promulgated largely by women; a sad and disturbing fact. (That they are professional friends of mine, and know my character and values, is an additional betrayal.)
News outlets with whom I do serious work, such as publishing op-eds about preventing HIV, empowering poor youth worldwide, and conflict mineral mining in Democratic Republic of Congo, all ran this “story” without checking with my office first for verification, or offering me the dignity of the opportunity to comment. It’s an indictment of them that they would even consider the content printable, and that they, too, without using time-honored journalistic standards, would perpetuate with un-edifying delight such blatantly gendered, ageist, and mean-spirited content.
I hope the sharing of my thoughts can generate a new conversation: Why was a puffy face cause for such a conversation in the first place? How, and why, did people participate? If not in the conversation about me, in parallel ones about women in your sphere? What is the gloating about? What is the condemnation about? What is the self-righteous alleged “all knowing” stance of the media about? How does this symbolize constraints on girls and women, and encroach on our right to be simply as we are, at any given moment? How can we as individuals in our private lives make adjustments that support us in shedding unconscious actions, internalized beliefs, and fears about our worthiness, that perpetuate such meanness? What can we do as families, as groups of friends? Is what girls and women can do different from what boys and men can do? What does this have to do with how women are treated in the workplace?
I ask especially how we can leverage strong female-to-female alliances to confront and change that there is no winning here as women. It doesn’t actually matter if we are aging naturally, or resorting to surgical assistance. We experience brutal criticism. The dialogue is constructed so that our bodies are a source of speculation, ridicule, and invalidation, as if they belong to others—and in my case, to the actual public. (I am also aware that inevitably some will comment that because I am a creative person, I have abdicated my right to a distinction between my public and private selves, an additional, albeit related, track of highly distorted thinking that will have to be addressed at another time).
If this conversation about me is going to be had, I will do my part to insist that it is a feminist one, because it has been misogynistic from the start. Who makes the fantastic leap from being sick, or gaining some weight over the winter, to a conclusion of plastic surgery? Our culture, that’s who. The insanity has to stop, because as focused on me as it appears to have been, it is about all girls and women. In fact, it’s about boys and men, too, who are equally objectified and ridiculed, according to heteronormative definitions of masculinity that deny the full and dynamic range of their personhood. It affects each and every one of us, in multiple and nefarious ways: our self-image, how we show up in our relationships and at work, our sense of our worth, value, and potential as human beings. Join in—and help change—the Conversation.
Saturday, February 11, 2012
Age 19
There I was, a 6-year-old girl, already beginning to develop breasts. As I continued to grow it didn’t take much for me to realize that I was the tallest, had the biggest feet and of course, the biggest body. Mind you, the fact I knew didn’t stop anyone reminding me of my abnormalities. We had mum on the phone, “I know she’s very big for her age, she’s a bit abnormal.” Brother, “Yeah that’s my sister, she’s the biggest one.” And who can forget good old Aunty H., “Oh, wow. You like to eat, don’t you?”
Throughout my young years into my teenage years, I felt constantly haunted by the fact that I was always the most developed which meant that I stood out the most. All I wanted to do was fade away and go about life completely unnoticed by anyone, even myself at times. Don’t get me wrong, in secondary school I wasn’t short of attention from boys. Every day consisted of me walking through the corridors - trying not to make eye contact with anyone, being hounded by the some of the best looking and horniest boys in the school. For some girls, that’s the dream - stomping down the corridor turning all the older boys’ heads. But for me, it was my worst nightmare - I didn’t believe I was pretty, I didn’t believe they wanted to talk to me for my “amazing personality.” As far I was concerned, they were dogs and behaved like such.
It’s always really interesting that no matter how much someone can tell you that you’re beautiful, if you don’t feel it yourself, they are simply just words with no weight or substance. It came to me one day, sitting in my math class. I was 16 at the time. There were two girls sitting in front of me arguing or discussing something. Finally one of them turned around and asked me, “Be honest, am I ugly?” That’s when it dawned on me, that I wasn’t the only girl who had these issues and this poor girl sitting in front of me looked so broken and worn down by all of the worry of not being “pretty.” My answer was simple, “No. You are not. You are beautiful. Don’t let anyone make you feel as if you’re not.” It was time for me to take my own advice - what use would it be to anyone else if I don’t live that principle myself?
Dwelling on those words - I am beautiful, I am beautiful, I am beautiful - things began to change for me. As painful as it was, I decided to take a long, hard, detailed look at myself and tell myself all of the things that make me unique and different and how I was going to use those qualities to find my inner confidence. Eventually I did. I realized that I have a nice speaking voice, so I went for roles in plays and volunteered to do the reading in English. Becoming those characters helped me greatly. It meant that in that moment, it was all about me and no one else. You had to stop and listen to me, look at me, feel what I’m saying and if you didn’t, I would speak louder so you had to listen to me. Own the floor. I had always looked at my large 34E breasts as a burden, something that would never go away and bring negative attention to myself. Soon I realized that being that girl with bigger boobs than everyone else was my thing, I had something that every other girl wanted and couldn’t have, so instead I began to feel lucky that I’d been blessed with something so rare at my age. I knew I had a passion for quirky clothing, hairstyles and accessories. Once I built the courage to speak loudly in front of people with my head high, the confidence naturally came to experiment with my different sense of style and various hair colors. Very soon I had built an identity for myself around the things that I enjoyed and what I liked. I was who I was and nobody was taking that away from me.
Now, at the age of 19, I’m over the moon with my figure and my personality. Sometimes when it seems like nothing good is happening to you, you must make something good happen from what you have. It’s like being really hungry and only having eggs and cheese in the fridge - you take the two and make a banging omelet! I have two words that always pick me up when I’m low on life: OWN IT. Any flaw that you may have about yourself: OWN IT. When you’re walking down street, walk down like you OWN the street. When you enter a room, enter like you OWN the room.
Think this moment is mine, and mine alone.
Throughout my young years into my teenage years, I felt constantly haunted by the fact that I was always the most developed which meant that I stood out the most. All I wanted to do was fade away and go about life completely unnoticed by anyone, even myself at times. Don’t get me wrong, in secondary school I wasn’t short of attention from boys. Every day consisted of me walking through the corridors - trying not to make eye contact with anyone, being hounded by the some of the best looking and horniest boys in the school. For some girls, that’s the dream - stomping down the corridor turning all the older boys’ heads. But for me, it was my worst nightmare - I didn’t believe I was pretty, I didn’t believe they wanted to talk to me for my “amazing personality.” As far I was concerned, they were dogs and behaved like such.
It’s always really interesting that no matter how much someone can tell you that you’re beautiful, if you don’t feel it yourself, they are simply just words with no weight or substance. It came to me one day, sitting in my math class. I was 16 at the time. There were two girls sitting in front of me arguing or discussing something. Finally one of them turned around and asked me, “Be honest, am I ugly?” That’s when it dawned on me, that I wasn’t the only girl who had these issues and this poor girl sitting in front of me looked so broken and worn down by all of the worry of not being “pretty.” My answer was simple, “No. You are not. You are beautiful. Don’t let anyone make you feel as if you’re not.” It was time for me to take my own advice - what use would it be to anyone else if I don’t live that principle myself?
Dwelling on those words - I am beautiful, I am beautiful, I am beautiful - things began to change for me. As painful as it was, I decided to take a long, hard, detailed look at myself and tell myself all of the things that make me unique and different and how I was going to use those qualities to find my inner confidence. Eventually I did. I realized that I have a nice speaking voice, so I went for roles in plays and volunteered to do the reading in English. Becoming those characters helped me greatly. It meant that in that moment, it was all about me and no one else. You had to stop and listen to me, look at me, feel what I’m saying and if you didn’t, I would speak louder so you had to listen to me. Own the floor. I had always looked at my large 34E breasts as a burden, something that would never go away and bring negative attention to myself. Soon I realized that being that girl with bigger boobs than everyone else was my thing, I had something that every other girl wanted and couldn’t have, so instead I began to feel lucky that I’d been blessed with something so rare at my age. I knew I had a passion for quirky clothing, hairstyles and accessories. Once I built the courage to speak loudly in front of people with my head high, the confidence naturally came to experiment with my different sense of style and various hair colors. Very soon I had built an identity for myself around the things that I enjoyed and what I liked. I was who I was and nobody was taking that away from me.
Now, at the age of 19, I’m over the moon with my figure and my personality. Sometimes when it seems like nothing good is happening to you, you must make something good happen from what you have. It’s like being really hungry and only having eggs and cheese in the fridge - you take the two and make a banging omelet! I have two words that always pick me up when I’m low on life: OWN IT. Any flaw that you may have about yourself: OWN IT. When you’re walking down street, walk down like you OWN the street. When you enter a room, enter like you OWN the room.
Think this moment is mine, and mine alone.
Tuesday, December 20, 2011
Age 19
Hi, I am 19 years old and I am a curvy women. Since I was young, I have been weight conscious because of my family and society. I can remember when I was 9 years old, my mom and grandmother telling me, "Are you sure you want to eat that?" and "You need to take care of your weight?” I carried this belief that I was not skinny, attractive or beautiful enough until I was 18 years old.
Throughout the years, my weight has fluctuated, but my perception of myself has not. I had gotten to the point where I could not see pictures of myself or I would break out in tears and would only eat around 500-800 calories a day and exercise for 2 hours in order to lose weight. I have been to therapists and have done almost every diet and self-help under the sun. My main concern was not being attractive enough and never having a boy who would love me. I thought I was hideous and no guy would like me. I was shy and felt like I didn't deserve to speak out, that my voice didn't deserve to be heard. It was painful and I suffered.
It was only until a year ago that I saw the damage I was doing to myself. Did my clothes size truly define my value? Was the amount of fat really indicative of my intelligence and the quality of personality? The answer was no. It isn't. I am much more than my weight and the only one that is letting the weight define me is myself. Yes, people judge. Yes, some guys are superficial. But I was tired of making my life miserable and putting myself down because of it. I decided to move beyond my body. I started to let my true personality come out and see myself in a new light. I looked in the mirror and realized that although I was a size 10 instead of a size 4, I was still sexy and I was still beautiful. I let myself have the mentality of a sexy beautiful girl and the change around me was magical. People were more attracted to be around me, I began making more friends and feeling more confident and productive in my studies. I started to explore who I really was, separate from the judgment of my body size. Yes, I still had some insecurities, and yes, I still freaked out about weight now and then (it had been too many years of these negative thoughts for them all to go away over night). The difference was that I didn't let them control me and I didn't let them define me.
A couple of days ago a woman came up to me and gave me a card that read "Cure Against Obesity." My mom was outraged and I was a bit shocked. Two years ago, this would have taken me to a mental breakdown and I would start seeing myself as horribly obese. However, instead I just threw the card away because, really, it was her problem, not mine. Society is hyper-conscious of weight and the business sector takes advantage of this and manipulates it to make a profit. Advertisements endorse fatty foods and weight loss produces during the same commercial break. Girls are taught to fear muffin tops and stomach bumps more than F's on a test. This is how backwards it has become.
I have a friend from Ghana. When I told him about my weight insecurities and that I didn't perceive myself as attractive he was in shock. He told me that he saw me as one of the most attractive girls in the college and that he just didn't see how I could see myself as overweight. I was also in shock and I realized how body size and beauty were all based on perspective. All women's sizes are beautiful. From size 16 to size 2 - as long as it is your natural body size, you are beautiful. And I learned that I was not built to be a size 4. I am eating healthy, exercise and am a size 8…and I am happy. My body does not fulfill society’s expectation of beauty, but it fulfills mine and that is all that matters. I know the "love your body" mantra gets old, but there is truth to that. Healing the relationship with your body is a process and it has its ups and downs, but I know now that instead of heading towards a destructive and sabotaging future of weight consciousness and constant dieting, I am heading to a future of confidence, happiness and self-fulfillment by loving myself just as I am.
Ironically, the less I cared about how I looked and the more I concentrated on my personality, the more weight I lost because by being in tune to who you are, you no longer have the need for emotional binging and bad habits. Taking care of your body becomes effortless and you naturally move into your right and healthy weight which may not be model perfect, but is perfect for me.
Throughout the years, my weight has fluctuated, but my perception of myself has not. I had gotten to the point where I could not see pictures of myself or I would break out in tears and would only eat around 500-800 calories a day and exercise for 2 hours in order to lose weight. I have been to therapists and have done almost every diet and self-help under the sun. My main concern was not being attractive enough and never having a boy who would love me. I thought I was hideous and no guy would like me. I was shy and felt like I didn't deserve to speak out, that my voice didn't deserve to be heard. It was painful and I suffered.
It was only until a year ago that I saw the damage I was doing to myself. Did my clothes size truly define my value? Was the amount of fat really indicative of my intelligence and the quality of personality? The answer was no. It isn't. I am much more than my weight and the only one that is letting the weight define me is myself. Yes, people judge. Yes, some guys are superficial. But I was tired of making my life miserable and putting myself down because of it. I decided to move beyond my body. I started to let my true personality come out and see myself in a new light. I looked in the mirror and realized that although I was a size 10 instead of a size 4, I was still sexy and I was still beautiful. I let myself have the mentality of a sexy beautiful girl and the change around me was magical. People were more attracted to be around me, I began making more friends and feeling more confident and productive in my studies. I started to explore who I really was, separate from the judgment of my body size. Yes, I still had some insecurities, and yes, I still freaked out about weight now and then (it had been too many years of these negative thoughts for them all to go away over night). The difference was that I didn't let them control me and I didn't let them define me.
A couple of days ago a woman came up to me and gave me a card that read "Cure Against Obesity." My mom was outraged and I was a bit shocked. Two years ago, this would have taken me to a mental breakdown and I would start seeing myself as horribly obese. However, instead I just threw the card away because, really, it was her problem, not mine. Society is hyper-conscious of weight and the business sector takes advantage of this and manipulates it to make a profit. Advertisements endorse fatty foods and weight loss produces during the same commercial break. Girls are taught to fear muffin tops and stomach bumps more than F's on a test. This is how backwards it has become.
I have a friend from Ghana. When I told him about my weight insecurities and that I didn't perceive myself as attractive he was in shock. He told me that he saw me as one of the most attractive girls in the college and that he just didn't see how I could see myself as overweight. I was also in shock and I realized how body size and beauty were all based on perspective. All women's sizes are beautiful. From size 16 to size 2 - as long as it is your natural body size, you are beautiful. And I learned that I was not built to be a size 4. I am eating healthy, exercise and am a size 8…and I am happy. My body does not fulfill society’s expectation of beauty, but it fulfills mine and that is all that matters. I know the "love your body" mantra gets old, but there is truth to that. Healing the relationship with your body is a process and it has its ups and downs, but I know now that instead of heading towards a destructive and sabotaging future of weight consciousness and constant dieting, I am heading to a future of confidence, happiness and self-fulfillment by loving myself just as I am.
Ironically, the less I cared about how I looked and the more I concentrated on my personality, the more weight I lost because by being in tune to who you are, you no longer have the need for emotional binging and bad habits. Taking care of your body becomes effortless and you naturally move into your right and healthy weight which may not be model perfect, but is perfect for me.
Wednesday, November 23, 2011
Age 20
I'm 20 years old and I have finally accepted my body as it is. It's been a very long process. When I turned 13 and began to have the thoughts that many teenagers have (particularly girls) about my appearance and my identity and who I was in the eyes of others, I thought I was fat. I thought that because I was not straight up and down in shape, and I was developing these weird curves between my chest and the tops of my legs, that there was something wrong with me.
I tried to lose as much weight as I could - in a very unhealthy way - to make myself look more "straight up and down." It wasn't until I was 16 that I learned about body shape. I realized that the shape of my body fell into a category and so many other people were like me! I didn't instantly look in the mirror and say to myself, "Well, you're not alone, now love yourself!" I did stop trying to lose weight and I accepted that my legs would always be bigger than I'd like them to be, and my shoulders would always be narrow no matter what I did.
I decided that I wanted to hide what I had from the world, even if I did accept it. I dressed in baggy clothes all the time. You'd hardly see a dress or skirt on me unless it was a very special occasion or a formal event. I just didn't know how to dress for my curves, so I figured I had to hide them rather than look like a complete dork. Everyone must have thought I had no sense of style, or that I was a tomboy. No one ever told me that I looked good, and slowly I realized that in order to embrace what I was blessed with, I had to dress better. I had to appreciate my body shape, not just accept it. So I learned how to cinch my waist, hide my hips and my thighs by wearing dark colors and generous cuts in skirts and pants. I started to like putting on fitted shirts and seeing myself in the mirror as someone who wasn't quite thin, but definitely wasn't as much up the top as she thought she was.
Today I'm much happier with the way that I look. I love to slip on a dress and see it skim over my widest area and hug my smallest. I feel odd putting on baggy clothes, even my old jeans, because it reminds me of a time when I couldn't deal with how I looked. When I think about how I felt when I was 13 and 14 and how little was said about different body shapes, I feel sad and angry. It would have helped a hell of a lot more if the media had told girls like me that we weren't all born to be column shapes. That everyone comes in different shapes and sizes and we should love that about ourselves. I was too busy trying to make my body look like something it was never supposed to be. Now I'm busy trying to find as many ways as possible to dress to my shape EXACTLY the way it was supposed to be.
In time, you will come to appreciate the body you were given.
I tried to lose as much weight as I could - in a very unhealthy way - to make myself look more "straight up and down." It wasn't until I was 16 that I learned about body shape. I realized that the shape of my body fell into a category and so many other people were like me! I didn't instantly look in the mirror and say to myself, "Well, you're not alone, now love yourself!" I did stop trying to lose weight and I accepted that my legs would always be bigger than I'd like them to be, and my shoulders would always be narrow no matter what I did.
I decided that I wanted to hide what I had from the world, even if I did accept it. I dressed in baggy clothes all the time. You'd hardly see a dress or skirt on me unless it was a very special occasion or a formal event. I just didn't know how to dress for my curves, so I figured I had to hide them rather than look like a complete dork. Everyone must have thought I had no sense of style, or that I was a tomboy. No one ever told me that I looked good, and slowly I realized that in order to embrace what I was blessed with, I had to dress better. I had to appreciate my body shape, not just accept it. So I learned how to cinch my waist, hide my hips and my thighs by wearing dark colors and generous cuts in skirts and pants. I started to like putting on fitted shirts and seeing myself in the mirror as someone who wasn't quite thin, but definitely wasn't as much up the top as she thought she was.
Today I'm much happier with the way that I look. I love to slip on a dress and see it skim over my widest area and hug my smallest. I feel odd putting on baggy clothes, even my old jeans, because it reminds me of a time when I couldn't deal with how I looked. When I think about how I felt when I was 13 and 14 and how little was said about different body shapes, I feel sad and angry. It would have helped a hell of a lot more if the media had told girls like me that we weren't all born to be column shapes. That everyone comes in different shapes and sizes and we should love that about ourselves. I was too busy trying to make my body look like something it was never supposed to be. Now I'm busy trying to find as many ways as possible to dress to my shape EXACTLY the way it was supposed to be.
In time, you will come to appreciate the body you were given.
Friday, October 21, 2011
Miss Representation
Like drawing back a curtain to let bright light stream in, Miss Representation uncovers a glaring reality we live with every day but fail to see. Written and directed by Jennifer Siebel Newsom, the film exposes how mainstream media contribute to the under-representation of women in positions of power and influence in America. The film challenges the media’s limited and often disparaging portrayals of women and girls, which make it difficult for women to achieve leadership positions and for the average woman to feel powerful herself.
In a society where media is the most persuasive force shaping cultural norms, the collective message that our young women and men overwhelmingly receive is that a woman’s value and power lie in her youth, beauty, and sexuality, and not in her capacity as a leader. While women have made great strides in leadership over the past few decades, the United States is still 90th in the world for women in national legislatures, women hold only 3% of clout positions in mainstream media, and 65% of women and girls have disordered eating behaviors.
Stories from teenage girls and provocative interviews with politicians, journalists, entertainers, activists and academics, like Condoleezza Rice, Nancy Pelosi, Katie Couric, Rachel Maddow, Margaret Cho, Rosario Dawson and Gloria Steinem build momentum as Miss Representation accumulates startling facts and statistics that will leave the audience shaken and armed with a new perspective.
In a society where media is the most persuasive force shaping cultural norms, the collective message that our young women and men overwhelmingly receive is that a woman’s value and power lie in her youth, beauty, and sexuality, and not in her capacity as a leader. While women have made great strides in leadership over the past few decades, the United States is still 90th in the world for women in national legislatures, women hold only 3% of clout positions in mainstream media, and 65% of women and girls have disordered eating behaviors.
Stories from teenage girls and provocative interviews with politicians, journalists, entertainers, activists and academics, like Condoleezza Rice, Nancy Pelosi, Katie Couric, Rachel Maddow, Margaret Cho, Rosario Dawson and Gloria Steinem build momentum as Miss Representation accumulates startling facts and statistics that will leave the audience shaken and armed with a new perspective.
Newest Miss Representation Trailer (2011 Sundance Film Festival Official Selection) from Miss Representation on Vimeo.
Tuesday, October 18, 2011
Age 18
When I look in the mirror, I see someone who looks oversized, someone fat, someone who takes up too much space, someone not worth it. As a recovering anorexic, I have to try to maintain positive; however, every time I look in the mirror I have an image reflected back at me which makes me feel worthless and inferior. I enjoy exercise but got to the point where I could barely walk up the stairs because I was too weak. I have to learn that my body is an important thing and needs to be looked after in order to maintain a healthy mind.
I hate the way that nothing I do is ever good enough for myself. Having such high standards means that I am never satisfied. My efforts are never good enough. I am not pretty enough, loud enough, skinny enough, talented, interesting. It is so wearing! It makes me sad and lonely, striving for perfection - not only in my life, but in others as well. Relationships were affected.
But I've turned a new corner. I can wear clothes which were far too loose in January. Clothes hidden under layers of jumpers and coats can now be worn on show. People are starting to comment on how good I am looking. This reassures me and makes me feel good. I wish that the reassurance others gave me could be reflected in what I see in the mirror. The real me needs to build and grow. I need to learn to laugh again, how to trust, how to smile, how to love. It’s as if I have been given a new start. I need to take it and become who I want to be for the rest of my life. Two years of my life have gone to starvation and being thin. It needs to end now!
As I am today, I am much healthier and in a much better place, but I am nowhere near my final destination. I want to be able to have children, I want to be able to move out and I want to be happy with who I am and where I am at. It is all going to come; I just need to take it step-by-step.
Recovery is not instant it takes time and persistence. When you reach it, you know you are there.
I hate the way that nothing I do is ever good enough for myself. Having such high standards means that I am never satisfied. My efforts are never good enough. I am not pretty enough, loud enough, skinny enough, talented, interesting. It is so wearing! It makes me sad and lonely, striving for perfection - not only in my life, but in others as well. Relationships were affected.
But I've turned a new corner. I can wear clothes which were far too loose in January. Clothes hidden under layers of jumpers and coats can now be worn on show. People are starting to comment on how good I am looking. This reassures me and makes me feel good. I wish that the reassurance others gave me could be reflected in what I see in the mirror. The real me needs to build and grow. I need to learn to laugh again, how to trust, how to smile, how to love. It’s as if I have been given a new start. I need to take it and become who I want to be for the rest of my life. Two years of my life have gone to starvation and being thin. It needs to end now!
As I am today, I am much healthier and in a much better place, but I am nowhere near my final destination. I want to be able to have children, I want to be able to move out and I want to be happy with who I am and where I am at. It is all going to come; I just need to take it step-by-step.
Recovery is not instant it takes time and persistence. When you reach it, you know you are there.
Saturday, October 1, 2011
Age 54
PLEASE HOLD!
I hate being put “on hold.” In the old days of rotary phones, if there was more than one number for the phone, there would be several plastic square buttons lined up underneath the dial. One of those buttons was red, which was the Hold Button. As a red-haired impatient kid, when I was on a mission of whatever I perceived was of GRAND importance - which was pretty much EVERYTHING - being told to, “please hold,” was tantamount to my world screeching to a halt. As I got older, my patience improved in many aspects of my life, but disliking being put on hold was something I never outgrew. If someone did not have the time to deal with me, in that moment, then why didn’t they just NOT ANSWER THE PHONE??!!
Time passed and with it the Hold Button morphed into the Call Waiting Click. New label…same result. I didn’t morph along with it. I was stuck in a time warp still the impatient kid wanting to get something. For someone who has always hated being on hold, it is ironic how much of my life I spent putting MYSELF on hold. It was subtle at first. The weather would start getting warmer and kids would start going to the community pool or the beach (I grew up in New York, not far from the Atlantic Ocean). I would watch enviously as they rode off on bikes loaded with towels headed for a day of splashing and swimming. I made up excuses. “When it gets warmer I’ll go.” When it got warmer I resorted to, “I have a cold, or I get ear aches from swimming.”
Of course, the real reason was how much I dreaded having to wear a bathing suit in public. When I was unable to push the Hold Button on going, I yanked out the big gun, “I’m a redhead and I’ll just get sun burned,” excuse. I wore a giant t-shirt over my hideous, black, one piece bathing suit, explaining, when asked, “It is to protect me or I’ll look like a lobster!”
I tried with all of my might to stay out of sight. I put endless opportunities of having summer fun on hold because of my body-hate.
I was six, I was seven and on into my teens. I almost didn’t graduate high school because of the swimming requirement in Phys. Ed.
Putting my life on hold became part of how I operated in the world. “When I lose weight then I will go to that party. When I lose weight, then I will take that class. When I lose weight then Davey Bernstein will like me. When I lose weight, then I will really live the life I want to live.”
How many kids are putting their lives on hold because they are being consumed by such shame and self-hate they don’t give themselves the opportunities to try things; to let go and dive in?
I think the first time I ever felt completely comfortable wearing a bathing suit was when I was pregnant and I had permission to be a fat woman in a bathing suit. The freedom I experienced was an indescribable joy. I remember at eight months pregnant I could feel my son swimming around inside of me as I was buoyantly bobbing around in the pool, completely un-self-conscious, no big t shirt, just sun screen and a big grin on my face.
I vowed in that moment, to do three things. The first was that whatever traces of negative feelings I still had about my body; I would NOT push my Hold Button. I would allow my kid to experience the joys of being a kid, even if it meant my wearing a bathing suit in public.
Secondly, that whatever body shape, size or type my child would develop, I would love him unconditionally and do what I could to help him foster love and acceptance for his body.
The third and perhaps most challenging commitment, to take an active role in educating others about the damage that size discrimination inflicts on others. Sometimes, ironically enough, this means asking people to HOLD their tongues and open their minds. My son is 19 years old now and I am thrilled to say, that he has never put his life on hold, and I honestly can’t remember the last time I did either.
I hate being put “on hold.” In the old days of rotary phones, if there was more than one number for the phone, there would be several plastic square buttons lined up underneath the dial. One of those buttons was red, which was the Hold Button. As a red-haired impatient kid, when I was on a mission of whatever I perceived was of GRAND importance - which was pretty much EVERYTHING - being told to, “please hold,” was tantamount to my world screeching to a halt. As I got older, my patience improved in many aspects of my life, but disliking being put on hold was something I never outgrew. If someone did not have the time to deal with me, in that moment, then why didn’t they just NOT ANSWER THE PHONE??!!
Time passed and with it the Hold Button morphed into the Call Waiting Click. New label…same result. I didn’t morph along with it. I was stuck in a time warp still the impatient kid wanting to get something. For someone who has always hated being on hold, it is ironic how much of my life I spent putting MYSELF on hold. It was subtle at first. The weather would start getting warmer and kids would start going to the community pool or the beach (I grew up in New York, not far from the Atlantic Ocean). I would watch enviously as they rode off on bikes loaded with towels headed for a day of splashing and swimming. I made up excuses. “When it gets warmer I’ll go.” When it got warmer I resorted to, “I have a cold, or I get ear aches from swimming.”
Of course, the real reason was how much I dreaded having to wear a bathing suit in public. When I was unable to push the Hold Button on going, I yanked out the big gun, “I’m a redhead and I’ll just get sun burned,” excuse. I wore a giant t-shirt over my hideous, black, one piece bathing suit, explaining, when asked, “It is to protect me or I’ll look like a lobster!”
I tried with all of my might to stay out of sight. I put endless opportunities of having summer fun on hold because of my body-hate.
I was six, I was seven and on into my teens. I almost didn’t graduate high school because of the swimming requirement in Phys. Ed.
Putting my life on hold became part of how I operated in the world. “When I lose weight then I will go to that party. When I lose weight, then I will take that class. When I lose weight then Davey Bernstein will like me. When I lose weight, then I will really live the life I want to live.”
How many kids are putting their lives on hold because they are being consumed by such shame and self-hate they don’t give themselves the opportunities to try things; to let go and dive in?
I think the first time I ever felt completely comfortable wearing a bathing suit was when I was pregnant and I had permission to be a fat woman in a bathing suit. The freedom I experienced was an indescribable joy. I remember at eight months pregnant I could feel my son swimming around inside of me as I was buoyantly bobbing around in the pool, completely un-self-conscious, no big t shirt, just sun screen and a big grin on my face.
I vowed in that moment, to do three things. The first was that whatever traces of negative feelings I still had about my body; I would NOT push my Hold Button. I would allow my kid to experience the joys of being a kid, even if it meant my wearing a bathing suit in public.
Secondly, that whatever body shape, size or type my child would develop, I would love him unconditionally and do what I could to help him foster love and acceptance for his body.
The third and perhaps most challenging commitment, to take an active role in educating others about the damage that size discrimination inflicts on others. Sometimes, ironically enough, this means asking people to HOLD their tongues and open their minds. My son is 19 years old now and I am thrilled to say, that he has never put his life on hold, and I honestly can’t remember the last time I did either.
Friday, September 30, 2011
Age 27
It's been about a year since you and I went from "it's complicated" to "in a relationship." I'm glad we took the steps to work towards this level of commitment. Thanks for waiting for me to work my stuff out. I feel much better now, and am so excited to see where this newfound love takes us.
Remember last summer when I was so distraught over the cancelled wedding, I'd just run and run and maybe eat some string cheese and popcorn and call it a well-balanced meal. Yeah, I do too. And laugh at myself. Now, I still run and run, and have added distance, Olympic lifting, and more soccer to the mix. But I eat. Damn, do I eat. Blocks and blocks of food that fuel my body, not inhibit it like last summer. And even though I eat more food than ever now and weigh more than I did last summer, I don't even feel fat or guilty about it. Because I know how good it is for my overall well-being.
Now, I know I am a vessel, my body and whole self an important vehicle to be used in my journey of life. How silly I was to not want to maintain it. I'm surprised it didn't wither away into nothing. A year later I can still fit into my size 2 jeans (okay, sometimes a size 0). I still put on the cleats and running shoes. And I'm still proud of my physical fitness. My ability to run 13.1 miles and play soccer with ease. I still like, well LOVE, how my legs look, how my arms have toned, how my back muscles are so defined and my ass…yep, my ass looks great. Thanks wall-balls and squats. I can still look at myself naked and think, "Damn, I look good."
But the key word is "self." I can look at myself, not just my body. Because my complete self is being nourished, taken care of as it needs to be. Now I am exceeding what I thought my body could do, but loving it so much that any form of abuse is not an option.
I love how I look right now. Love it, love it and want to flaunt it. And I will never doubt that thought to increase the possibility that self-hatred will perpetuate self-abuse again.
Peace and love,
The inhabitant of you, Body
Remember last summer when I was so distraught over the cancelled wedding, I'd just run and run and maybe eat some string cheese and popcorn and call it a well-balanced meal. Yeah, I do too. And laugh at myself. Now, I still run and run, and have added distance, Olympic lifting, and more soccer to the mix. But I eat. Damn, do I eat. Blocks and blocks of food that fuel my body, not inhibit it like last summer. And even though I eat more food than ever now and weigh more than I did last summer, I don't even feel fat or guilty about it. Because I know how good it is for my overall well-being.
Now, I know I am a vessel, my body and whole self an important vehicle to be used in my journey of life. How silly I was to not want to maintain it. I'm surprised it didn't wither away into nothing. A year later I can still fit into my size 2 jeans (okay, sometimes a size 0). I still put on the cleats and running shoes. And I'm still proud of my physical fitness. My ability to run 13.1 miles and play soccer with ease. I still like, well LOVE, how my legs look, how my arms have toned, how my back muscles are so defined and my ass…yep, my ass looks great. Thanks wall-balls and squats. I can still look at myself naked and think, "Damn, I look good."
But the key word is "self." I can look at myself, not just my body. Because my complete self is being nourished, taken care of as it needs to be. Now I am exceeding what I thought my body could do, but loving it so much that any form of abuse is not an option.
I love how I look right now. Love it, love it and want to flaunt it. And I will never doubt that thought to increase the possibility that self-hatred will perpetuate self-abuse again.
Peace and love,
The inhabitant of you, Body
Tuesday, September 6, 2011
Age 45
In Spanish, body is cuerpo. I love my exercise and weights, but my cuerpo doesn't want to change. I eat healthy 95% of the time, but my cuerpo doesn't want to burn off the love that has accumulated around my waist.
My therapist and I believe I have body dysmorphic disorder. All I know is that thinking about my body and its resistance to skinnying down causes panic attacks and feeds depression. Since I'm older now with this exercise and fitness routine, I feel aches and pains because really working out hurts. Ibuprofin and I have become buddies.
I don't want to so resemble my Mamita who struggled with her weight until her dying day. She had five babies while I have not, so why's the weight sticking to me so intensely? She lives on in me but I don't want that sort of resemblance. I'm considered overweight right now and need to improve due to Diabetes running in the family. And yes, liposuction has been an ongoing fantasy.
I'm angry at my body and myself. I want it to get better. Last night's Zumba class helped because it was just fun. I get lost in myself focusing on this stuff when there are many other priorities in my life that are getting lost in the shuffle.
So I'm trying to love my cuerpo that is healthy in so many ways. I'm sorry I put down my cuerpo so much and expect things that really shouldn't be so important.
My therapist and I believe I have body dysmorphic disorder. All I know is that thinking about my body and its resistance to skinnying down causes panic attacks and feeds depression. Since I'm older now with this exercise and fitness routine, I feel aches and pains because really working out hurts. Ibuprofin and I have become buddies.
I don't want to so resemble my Mamita who struggled with her weight until her dying day. She had five babies while I have not, so why's the weight sticking to me so intensely? She lives on in me but I don't want that sort of resemblance. I'm considered overweight right now and need to improve due to Diabetes running in the family. And yes, liposuction has been an ongoing fantasy.
I'm angry at my body and myself. I want it to get better. Last night's Zumba class helped because it was just fun. I get lost in myself focusing on this stuff when there are many other priorities in my life that are getting lost in the shuffle.
So I'm trying to love my cuerpo that is healthy in so many ways. I'm sorry I put down my cuerpo so much and expect things that really shouldn't be so important.
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