On Unlearning

 Body Image and Identity Crisis in the “Love Yourself” Era

In the age of relentless visual stimulation from applications constantly vying for our attention, it is refreshing to see that one particular movement has finally gripped the masses – the message of loving yourself as you are, and that beauty comes in every shape, size, and form. It was only a matter of time, but stuffy middle-aged men (and some women) still gaped at the viral results, sincerely shocked on finding that women respond better to images of real women. In a world where money talks, the beauty and fashion industry quickly picked their jaws up off the floor and unleashed a slew of campaigns responding directly to this phenomenon. The start of the new decade has brought more inclusive models, less retouching, and arguably best of all, the slow-burn demise of Victoria’s Secret, cannibalized by brands that promised more variety, more realness, and less push-up bras that gave football pads a run for their money. 

While body inclusivity has progressed leaps and bounds within the last decade, the movement brings with it remnants of the same problematic mindsets of the past. The body positivity movement desperately wants to be the end-all solution to the body dysmorphia that plagues women – but it’s not, nor can it be in its current state. Brands seeking to capitalize on profit-inducing marketing campaigns including plus-size models and promising more inclusive size lines have wholly missed the point, and more dangerously, they may be unintentionally contributing to the greater problem. In 2018, Madewell attempted to aim high on the body positivity revolution and announced an extension to their denim sizes – up to size 20, when originally they stopped at size 14 – but failed when customers realized the size 20 was essentially just a size 14 with a new label.  Madewell managed to survive the controversy fairly unscathed, but they still haven’t repented entirely for their mistakes. Shopping for denim on Madewell’s site today still includes the extended size run but is separated into its own section (“Curvy Denim”). The separation of size runs is a fashion crime committed by far more brands than just Madewell, stemming from the tiresome idea that larger sizing needs to be singled out and put into its own special corner. It’s no surprise that brands would opt for a lazy, haphazard effort when it came to tapping into the body positivity movement, but it is nevertheless disappointing that the lack of effort has largely been accepted by consumers and, regretfully, has become the norm in women’s fashion. The most concerning message being reinforced by Madewell and other brands attempting to be more inclusive is the idea that being curvy and larger is a bold statement against the status quo, which allows them to applaud their half-assed efforts at creating a more dynamic size run as groundbreaking and an instant fix to the industry’s most complicated offenses. 

On another front, the body positivity movement has found burgeoning success on Instagram, the application queen that has single-handedly transformed the marketing industry in less than a decade while simultaneously making us all her loyal subjects. If Instagram had a royal court, it would be filled with her powerful and ad-wheeling influencers. While most of Instagram’s most-followed accounts are celebrities, there is an epidemic of normal and mostly talentless individuals who harnessed the power of Instagram to their advantage, reaping millions and producing more ads of weird teeth-whitening lights and mint-colored gummy bears than we can stomach. Instagram has become a hive of perceived authenticity, and within it are influencers who provide small snippets of their lives, pawning off messages of self-love, confidence, and body positivity. While it sounds idyllic, how can we possibly find satisfaction in our own boring bodies and our own boring lives when constantly flooded with images of happier, healthier, sexier people? Consequently, how can we ever find self-satisfaction when we are then made to feel bad for not radically loving our own imperfect, non-influencer bodies? 

The problem is not us, it’s the subliminal messaging behind the images flooding our feeds. While we are seeing more images of real women and real bodies, it is covered in a thin veil of societal expectations. Having a large derrière would have been frowned upon in the early ‘00s and is now highly revered, but mostly when combined with a 25-inch waist. Being flat-chested is in, but only to wear lacy bralettes. Being “thick” has been revolutionized by women with real thighs and real curves but still maintains that a certain level of sex appeal be upheld. Another mold has been created, and while it may be different from its predecessors, we’re still falling into the same ugly snares of ideal body image, sending the masses running towards the welcoming arms of “fitspo”, waist trainers, and detox teas. The age-old question then becomes: Are we really revolutionizing the beauty and fashion industry, or did she just put on a new guise that we have an easier time stomaching? After all, in the sovereignty of Instagram, the law of posting a thirst trap instills that the subject is desirable.

This is not to say that the progress of the body positivity movement should be ignored. Many of the leading messages behind the movement have brought about healthier and more promising mindsets for women to consume, and it seems inevitable that the movement would resort to uplifting, repost-friendly sound bites in order to stay relevant. Body positive accounts such as @hi.ur.beautiful, which hails 408 thousand followers, offers square-sized remedies to the toxicity of the female experience with sweet notes such as “Am I too ‘wide’ or is your mind too narrow?” and “Don’t value your body over your being.” Actor and activist Jameela Jamil’s @i_weigh community has now amassed 1 million followers and offers more action-based solutions, such as a book club and a self-reflection challenge that encourages women to redirect their weight into descriptive words that better encompass their being. The conversation surrounding the body positivity movement is expanding, and more importantly, it is beginning to highlight the importance of intersectionality in regards the female experience. With any kind of social movement comes missteps and faux pas and the body positivity movement is certainly no exception – but it can recover by continuing honest and empathetic discussions on women’s bodies in general. This is where the dirty work begins: talking about female empowerment in a genuine light requires talking about female pain, something that will necessitate far more effort than a few aesthetically pleasing quotes on an Instagram grid.  

It is inevitable that social media is and always will be a stage upon which fantasies are portrayed. The body positivity movement faces a unique challenge in the need to balance the power of the aesthetically pleasing versus the less enchanting, dully complicated reality. Overly optimistic, ra-ra body positive cheerleaders posting before and after photos of weight loss journeys (sorry Kayla Itsines, but this one is on you) and sultry bikini pics captioned with paragraphs describing their journey to self-acceptance are genuinely fine, but they have become problematic by taking the mic from women who don’t fit the influencer mold that deserve the movement to recognize the validity of their existence. The movement needs to realize that pressuring women to “just love yourself!” without providing realistic tools on how to get there is unrealistic and, frankly, annoying. Adding a lengthy caption on body positivity underneath a photo of a glamorous, conventionally beautiful woman will never be a bad thing, but it can be counterproductive if it sends the message that the body positivity movement can only be accessed by a specific kind of spokesperson. Body positivity will look different for every woman, and while that can be a daunting task for the movement to tackle, it can veer towards a more productive direction by acknowledging that its solutions will need to have variety, openness, and intersectionality. 

Several Instagram queens have already spurred necessary conversations to tackle the complex existence of the body positive movement on social media. Mental illness advocate Raffela Mancuso (@raffela_mancuso) used her platform to critically reflect on the phenomenon of “thin bopo” and the amplification of thin women who still experience a fair amount of privilege that have enjoyed success as leaders in the body positivity movement. Mancuso celebrated the success of these women and the importance of their stories, but also stressed the necessity of using their platform to pass the mic to more marginalized voices and acknowledge the privileges they do enjoy. Mancuso’s message resonated immensely with her 20 thousand followers and garnered a collaborative response from Sarah Nicole Landry (@thebirdspapaya), whose own account has 1.3 million followers. Mancuso’s observation was frank and may have felt uncomfortable to hear for those who benefit from thin bopo, but she managed to get her point across gracefully and with the opportunity for open, honest, and empathetic conversation. Sometimes the movement will need to hear uncomfortable truths in order to bring about positive growth, and as long as leaders within it are willing to accommodate its growing pains, the outcome will create a community that can be more inclusive, loving, and understanding. 

Deeply engrained in the psyche of women and our relationship with our bodies is a powerful and persistent emotion: shame. Shame can stem from a variety of different experiences, be it inherited from our mothers, acquired through trauma, or reinforced by constant objectification.  For almost all women, disrobing in front of a mirror brings with it a critical eye ready to channel the feelings of shame into specific parts of the body, and while we can rattle off a list of the things we dislike about our physical appearance, we almost never talk about why we feel ashamed of them in the first place. Here’s where the body positivity movement can put the ra-ra optimism to good use – by acknowledging that working through feelings of shame is a personal, intimate process that will look and feel different for every woman, but the burden can be carried collectively to ease the discomfort we’ve carried throughout our lives. Not everyone is going to feel the motivation to unearth deeply rooted trauma and transform it into something positive, nor should they feel the pressure to, but the movement should still keep a space open for these women anyway. It is necessary to acknowledge that participation in the body positive movement is not obligatory in order for women to start feeling better about themselves. Sometimes, shame will never go away. Some experiences will have left wounds too deep to heal entirely, and spaces must be reserved for women who need a safe haven to lament the fact that they may never feel completely comfortable existing in their bodies. 

Radical change will need to start at the foundation, namely, by revolutionizing the idea that women’s bodies are just that – bodies. They are and can be non-sexual. They are and can be small, big, round, flat, scarred, differently-abled – they can be anything and their existence does not and should not have to coincide with a scale of sexual attractiveness. Nor should the expectation be that everyone must radically love their bodies. Behind the glittery idea of self-love comes the harsh reality for many: it’s hard work, and it takes time. Progress that has been gained can be more easily lost, making us reluctant to start over. After generations of learning what is and what isn’t beautiful, it requires bitter work to weed through what should and shouldn’t be kept, and no filter can make the lifetime of grunt work required more glamorous. It has become second nature to hate certain aspects of ourselves and it is going to require double the effort to unlearn the deeply engrained prejudices against our bodies. The end result might not even be love – it might just be acceptance, or even yet, it might just be tolerance – and that has to be okay in order for us to feel motivated to even begin. The most disliked parts of our physical bodies are intimately intertwined with deeper traumas and beliefs about our identity – aspects of our true selves that no one wants to reduce to a few posts on social media. And really, no one should. The body positivity movement has the ability to amplify productive conversations about the female experience and where we go from here. It can start by passing the mic. 

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Anna Luo is an American traveler/writer currently teaching English in Europe. Her writing portfolio can be found here. She am fairly new to freelance writing and am most passionate about writing on feminism, reproductive health care access, vulnerable feelings, and environmental responsibility. Her Instagram can be found here.