For most of us, it can be hard to live up to that standard, which can lead to poor self-esteem. This is backed by science, with studies showing that exposure to thin models worsens body image and increases body dissatisfaction and anxiety. Diet culture preys on body dissatisfaction and tries to make us feel we need to change ourselves to fit in.
What is diet culture? Simply put, it’s the set of systems that promote the belief that appearance and body shape are the most significant markers of well-being. It promotes the idea that going to extreme measures to control your body and your diet is both expected and desirable.
Diet culture demonizes certain ways of eating while praising others; it encourages hyper-vigilance about the types of foods we put into our bodies. And the worst part? Diet culture is so insidious that we don’t even have to be on a diet to fall victim to it. When you look closely, many people who think they’re not dieting are actually pursuing “wellness” in a way that is sneakily disguised as a diet (such as rules about when you’re allowed to eat, or labeling foods as “good” and “bad”).
I’m no stranger to the harm that can be caused by diet culture. As an anti-diet dietitian, I’ve worked with countless clients to heal their relationship with food and exercise. I’ve also personally experienced the grip of diet culture on my own psyche and struggled with disordered eating and exercise for much of my life.
How diet culture perpetuates fatphobia
When you’ve grown up exposed to diet culture, it’s easy to see how the “thin = better” message has been drilled into so many of us. But diet culture isn’t benign. It leads to fatphobia and weight stigma: the systemic beliefs that fat people are somehow “less than” and should be making every effort possible to lose weight.
An important note before continuing. In recent years, there has been a movement to reclaim the word “fat” as a neutral descriptor of body size, and that’s the terminology I’ll be using throughout this article.
Sometimes fatphobia and weight stigma are overt, like someone getting angry at a fat person for taking up space on public transit. But often, fatphobia disguises itself as a concern for the fat person (“if you just lost some weight, you’d be so much healthier”) or a compliment (like a salesperson telling you that the outfit you’re trying looks “flattering”).
Diet culture sends the message that bodies that fall outside of the accepted, thin “norm” are unhealthy. This can lead to poor self-image and drastic attempts to alter one’s weight. I know first-hand what this feels like, and I started my first diet at just 13 years old.
Before continuing, it’s important to share that I grew up thin. It’s essential that I preface my story by saying this because even though I experienced body dysmorphia, I was not subjected to fatphobia by my peers or the medical system until very recently.
Growing up thin, I never had to worry about whether I would fit into a chair or if I would be able to find clothes that would fit me. But I also grew up with a deep hatred of my body, and my relationship with food and exercise was fraught from a young age. I didn’t realize it then, but the driving force behind my body hatred was the fatphobia I was conditioned to have by the media of the time.
Diet culture perpetuates fatphobia, which tells us that if we eat well and move more, we’ll be able to control our body weight. This is an overly simplistic view of weight management and doesn’t address the many other factors that play into a person’s body weight (like access to nutritious food, walkable neighborhoods, and systemic forms of discrimination like racism, ableism, misogyny, and queerphobia).
Diet culture perpetuates fatphobia, which tells us that if we eat well and move more, we’ll be able to control our body weight. This is an overly simplistic view of weight management and doesn’t address the many other factors that play into a person’s body weight (like access to nutritious food, walkable neighborhoods, and systemic forms of discrimination like racism, ableism, misogyny, and queerphobia).
The body positivity movement
Body positivity is a movement that has sought to repair the harm done by diet culture. Body positivity states that all people deserve to have a positive body image, regardless of how society views their body compared to the thin “standard.”
Body positivity emerged from the fat acceptance movement of the late 1960s. This movement was focused on ending fat-shaming and discrimination based on body size. However, it wasn’t until around 2012 that the body positivity movement in its current form emerged. This movement focused on challenging unrealistic beauty standards, and the messaging shifted toward “all bodies are beautiful.”
My journey with body positivity started in my early 20s. At the time, I spent hours calculating what I would eat and exercising to “burn off” anything I didn’t account for. I even started preparing for a bodybuilding competition, which I eventually pulled out of because I didn’t think I looked “fit” enough. Even though I was at my thinnest, I hated everything about my body.
During this time, I was active on Instagram and Twitter. In the summer of 2014, I started following more body-positive accounts. I was enthralled. These women were so confident! I wanted in on whatever magic they had found for themselves. Slowly, I started taking the focus away from dieting and over-exercising, and I tried to find positive things about my body. I started eating intuitively, and my starved body gained the weight it needed to heal from my disordered eating and exercising. As a thin, cisgender, white woman, body positivity was a welcoming space for me.
But is body positivity enough to combat the harm caused by diet culture?
I argue that it isn’t. While body positivity is a step in the right direction, it doesn’t address the fundamental problem that what our body looks like dictates our self-worth. And unfortunately, what started as a movement with a valuable message has been co-opted by social media influencers and advertisers.
In its current form, the body positivity movement is known for excluding people of color, disabled people, and members of the LGBTQ+ community. Just search the hashtags #bodypositivity and #bopo. You’ll be inundated with thin, white, cisgender women hunched over to create a “belly roll” with a caption about how much they “love” and “accept” their rolls. I was one of these women. I never stopped to think of how these kinds of posts would affect people who were actually fat. Because these kinds of images, while well-meaning, can make it seem like larger bodies are not welcome in the body-positive space. While it may pretend to be, today’s body positivity isn’t accessible to everyone, and that’s a problem.
The journey to body liberation
Body liberation or fat liberation is defined as “the freedom from social and political systems of oppression that designate certain bodies as more worthy, healthy, and desirable than others.” It is the belief that all bodies are worthy and deserve to exist just as they are.
Body liberation promotes the view that no one can know another person’s health or abilities just by looking at them. It also goes a step further and states that someone’s body size, health status, or ability is not a measure of their value as a person.
How often have you heard the phrase, “well, they might be overweight, but at least they’re healthy!” While this is a well-meaning sentiment, it moralizes health and makes it seem as though a person is only worthy of respect and care if they’re healthy. Body liberation makes it clear that no one owes anyone else health and that people have a right to exist even if they aren’t pursuing healthy behaviours.
In addition to recognizing that you are so much more than your body, body liberation is intersectional. It involves breaking down the systems that oppress people of color, members of the LGBTQ+ community, women, and disabled people. It centers the voices of marginalized communities and aims to deconstruct and re-establish what health, well-being, and liberation mean. Unlike body positivity, body liberation is for everyone.
In addition to recognizing that you are so much more than your body, body liberation is intersectional. It involves breaking down the systems that oppress people of color, members of the LGBTQ+ community, women, and disabled people. It centers the voices of marginalized communities and aims to deconstruct and re-establish what health, well-being, and liberation mean. Unlike body positivity, body liberation is for everyone.
I first learned about body liberation when I experienced significant weight gain as a side effect of psychiatric medications. Within six months, I had outgrown all my clothes twice over, and suddenly, my body was no longer thin. My doctor started focusing on my weight at every appointment. Whenever I saw her, she told me I needed to lose weight to be “healthy.”
I was devastated. My long-held fatphobia was still a part of me, and I wanted to turn to diet culture habits to control my weight. But no matter what I did, my weight continued to go up.
Finally, I had to accept that I was now living in a bigger body. Suddenly, body positivity felt out of reach. The accounts I was following were all women much smaller than me, and now that I was bigger, I felt left out of the body-positive space. I struggled to find things I liked about my body and became frustrated that I wasn’t as physically fit as I used to be.
I knew something needed to change. I started following fat-positive Instagrammers and was introduced to the concept of body liberation. I was drawn in by the idea that it didn’t matter what my body looked like or what it could achieve physically: My body was worthy, just as it was. The idea that my body could be worthy no matter how much weight I gained or how much exercise I did was revolutionary to me, and I grabbed onto it like a life raft.
My journey with body liberation has been long and complex. I’d be lying if I said I was the perfect example of a body liberationist. I still struggle with disordered thoughts, and I know I have internalized fatphobia that I need to work on. But I have found that moving away from body positivity and focusing on body liberation has allowed me to break free from diet culture and take back beauty standards’ power over me.
Final thoughts
While the body positivity movement started as a movement for everyone, with time, it’s become white-washed and excludes members of marginalized groups.
A better antidote to the harms caused by diet culture is body liberation, the view that a person’s body size, health status, or ability does not define their worth as a person. By taking the focus away from how our bodies look and function, we can start to combat the diet culture messaging that tells us that we need to lose weight or look a certain way to be worthy.
You are so much more than a body. And you are worthy, just as you are.