During my sophomore year I had lunch with a friend of mine. On her tray were a small cup of yogurt, an apple and two slices of whole wheat bread. "I decided to go anorexic today," she said.
Why do I remember that day and that comment so vividly? Most likely because at the time I was anorexic, and though I laughed along with her as she began to eat her measly meal, something jarred inside of me. I know for a fact that my friend's intentions were not malicious; she could have just as easily said "I decided to be on a diet today." In fact, many people would see practically no difference between this and what she actually said. Throughout my time here a few incidents have made me think about how people view eating disorders.
At a fraternity party during the 1997 Homecoming, I was talking with a few friends when our conversation overlapped with another. Two guys were "scoping out" the women who walked down the stairs for the benefit of a third who, as he said, "needed a girlfriend." After one woman came down, one friend exclaimed (ever so eloquently) "She's hot!" To his dismay, the second friend shook his head and said, "That girl's been in and out of the hospital with anorexia -- I don't think you want to deal with that." At this point I thought the conversation was over. Unfortunately, I was wrong. Almost immediately after his friend relayed this information, the girlfriend-less guy threw his hands in the air and said, "Anorexic? Better than overweight, right? And hey -- she won't cost much to take out to dinner." Unbelievable, right? Written down, this conversation seems amazingly shallow and inconsiderate. But imagine yourself in a fraternity basement and it might seem more realistic;
you could have heard a friend say something similar -- you could have even said something like it yourself. Again, do I think these guys, or this one in particular, are dreadful people with no redeeming value? Not at all. Do I hope they read or hear about this and next time think about anorexia as more than a "bonus" trait for a potential mate? Definitely.
Unless you've been locked away in Baker for the past six months, you've been witness to the scandal surrounding the star of the TV show "Ally McBeal," Calista Flockhart. After the already-thin star lost some weight, the Hollywood press wasted no time blasting the news that Calista Flockhart was anorexic. Newspapers, from the "National Enquirer" to the "New York Times," scrambled to paste the picture of the "emaciated" Flockhart at an awards show. I do not know whether Calista Flockhart has an eating disorder; perhaps only she can know that. But what confuses me most is the tone of accusation used by the press and, in turn, by a number of "regular people." If Flockhart is sick (anorexia and bulimia are classified as bona fide mental disorders), shouldn't the first impulse be to help her and not to make absolutely sure that everyone knows that she "needs help?" If Calista Flockhart does indeed have a problem, she is not "doing it" to get attention or to "look better," despi
te what some might think. Vanity disappears as soon as a diet turns that corner and becomes anorexia or bulimia; an eating-disordered person is fighting against something much stronger than the "unmerciful" full-length mirror, I assure you.
I am not trying to compare the attitudes toward eating disorders to racism or homophobia; not in the least. Nor am I calling for all people with eating disorders to band together and form a new campus group. Only the most basic rules apply here, for everyone. Don't assume anything. If I tell you that I've been battling anorexia and bulimia for more than three years, don't suppose that I grew up in a screwed-up family because I didn't. Everyone has their demons and this is mine. Don't trivialize it, but don't make it symbolize all that I am or all that I can give. Think about what you say and how it might come across. And finally, and most simply, Be Kind. It's so easy.
