In a society that is fixated on looks and appearances, it can be hard to accept yourself for who you are. When I was a little girl, I used to want to be a dancer. I loved watching shows like Dance Moms or Bring It, and the way those young girls used to look so happy and free while dancing always inspired me. Around this time I noticed how a lot of my peers were starting to venture off into negative activities, so at this age I really just wanted, or desperately needed a positive yet active outlet to express myself. I used to beg my mom to sign up for dance lessons, until she finally did. There weren't too many dance companies in my neighborhood, so we used to travel maybe 30 to 45 minutes every Saturday morning for dance classes in a different neighborhood. On my first day, I noticed that there weren't too many people that looked like me. All of the instructors and dancers at this studio were White. In addition to there being no Black instructors or dancers, was the fact that I was the biggest in the room when it came to both height and weight. Whenever the dance instructor spoke of having a performance for family and friends to attend, while all the other girls were excited and joyful at the idea, all I could feel was dread. I feared that in a performance I would stick out like a sore thumb. The dance classes that I once begged my mother for had become a burden, always reminding me of how I was different and bringing up feelings of imposter syndrome. At this young age, I knew deep down inside that I did not fit the image that the dance studio was trying to portray, and I knew that I never would; because despite eating healthy and being active, I would always be one of the tallest in the room and my thighs and calves would always be thicker than theirs and most importantly I would always be Black. I did not fight to stay in the dance studio that I fought so hard to get into because deep down I knew that in the end some battles just aren’t worth the time and energy. Today I find myself reminiscing about this experience, and I ask myself how would I have turned out if I decided to stay and fight for my spot. What would I be like today if I had tried to fit into the image that this dance studio portrayed? Would I love my body? My natural hair? My melanated skin? I'm not so sure.
Society places a lot of pressure on women on maintaining a certain figure and looking a certain way, but from a young age I had to realize that I would never fit society's standards of how I should look as a young Black girl. Whenever I went in for a doctor's appointment, my doctor would remind my mother and I how important it was that I started eating healthier and getting more physical exercise, because I was overweight according to Body Mass Index charts. Every time I left the doctor's office, I would be leaving with a packet of information that included foods that I should be eating and exercises that I should try and complete. This information never really upset me, if the doctors said I was overweight I would truly believe them and want to change. I remember crying to my mother asking her to try and make meals and buy snacks that would match the information given by doctors, but this never lasted for long. My mother was a single mother of two living in an inner city community which fit the criteria to be labeled as a food desert. Access to healthy and affordable food was very limited, so sooner or later I would be back to eating “regular” meals and snacks.
I spent maybe ages 7 to 13 fixating on my weight and looks because of my annual doctors appointments and experiences like the one at the dance studio. Over the years I had tried so hard to fit into society's image of what healthy looked like until one day, I just stopped. I stopped trying so hard to change myself, and just allowed my life to flow easily. I ate as I pleased and continued to be active on a daily basis, not buying into any more diet or workout plans. It was this summer that I went through puberty and grew a few inches taller than before and I had started to develop some curves. This time when I went to the doctors office, instead of sitting through a lecture on how to eat healthier and be more active, the doctors were asking me questions about my eating habits and if I was eating enough. According to the Body Mass Index Charts, I was on the smaller end of the spectrum. I was astonished and so excited that I didn't have to leave the doctor's office with a healthy eating packet this time around, but then I started doing the math. How could I have lost all this weight without paying too much attention to my diet or exercise? My mother began explaining to me how puberty might have played a role in my “transformation”. With the height that I had gained over the summer and the way my weight had started to settle on my body, I was no longer seen as a bigger girl. After coming to this conclusion, I was no longer astonished with the information I had learned at my last doctor's appointment. Instead I was left feeling upset and felt bamboozled. I had spent all of these years trying to change myself and fit into society's standards for how my body should look, when in reality all I had to do was wait. Today I wish that I could go back and tell my younger self to give my body a chance instead of working to change it. I wish that I could go back and spend all of those years just loving myself and accepting myself for who I truly was.
This is why the text What is Health At Every Size by Deb Burgard really resonated with me. This text resonated with the little girl in me that wanted to be a dancer so bad. If that little girl had been exposed to resources like the HAES model which pushes for a self-loving and fun weight loss journey, instead of having healthy eating and workout packets pushed my way, perhaps things would be different for me. In What Is Health At Every Size, readers learn that "the problem with picking a dividing line between "acceptable" and "unacceptable" degrees of fatness is that it cannot be applied to individuals. For any given weight, there are people who are healthy and people who are not." If I could go back and give my younger self a message it would be to dance my heart out and remember that I am kind, smart, beautiful, and most importantly worthy. While I feel like our society has gotten better at normalizing health at all sizes, I think that there should be an emphasis on leaving little girls the fuck alone. I don’t ever want my daughter to worry about her weight as a little girl, instead of enjoying her dance classes. Give little girls the chance to grow up and love themselves for who they are, before telling them who they should be.
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