‘I want to work on my body image’

‘My body image is so bad right now’

‘I’m really struggling with my body image’

These are all variations on a theme I often hear in my nutrition practice. When I hear a client tell me they have ‘bad body image’, I hear suffering, yes. But I don’t automatically assume that it’s something they need to - or even can - ‘fix’.

For over 50 years, psychologists have understood negative body image as ‘a persistent report of dissatisfaction, concern, and distress that is related to an aspect of physical appearance’ (emphasis mine). In the research literature, negative body image is considered to be a risk factor for developing an eating disorder and is a target for clinical interventions aiming to treat them.

But the thing is, body image is inherently an appearance based construct - it is predominantly concerned with people’s relationship with *how* they look. ‘Body image’ places the burden and responsibility on the individual to ‘fix’ their body image, usually by adjusting their attitude. We are told ‘all bodies are beautiful’, ‘all bodies are good bodies’. And while this is true, it’s not reflected in how we experience the world. It neglects how so much of how we feel about our bodies is shaped by how bodies are treated; as objects, as commodities, as machines. Dehumanised, pathologised, subjugated.

‘Body image’ is apolitical. It doesn't situate bodies within a political, cultural, or social context. But bodies don’t exist in a vacuum.

Photo by Jade Destiny on Unsplash

While researchers have attempted to broaden out the definition of ‘body image’ to reflect positive ways of being in the body - focussing on functionality, broad conceptions of beauty, and body image flexibility - they mostly fall short of capturing the influences of power and privilege in shaping our experiences. Even more so for concepts like ‘body positivity’, and ‘body confidence’, which say nothing about who holds power and privilege, and instead become fodder for self-objectifying TikToks dressed up as empowerment.

This is where the concept of embodiment may be a helpful lens for us to apply. Before we get to embodiment though, I want to make it clear that I don’t think embodiment is necessarily the ‘best’ framework for understanding the experience of being a body. Nor am I necessarily advocating that we all have to switch to an embodiment lens (although I for sure think it’s an improvement on ‘body image’). In the disability justice space, there is a move towards using the term bodymind, which I am only just beginning to explore and has some conceptual overlaps with embodiment (this is a useful primer on bodymind) and is something I’m sure we’ll look at more closely down the line. This is also an incomplete exploration of embodiment which people have written whole books about; consider this very much embodiment 101 and check out some resources I share at the end for supporting subscribers.

So how can we think about embodiment? Most of us are born feeling a sense of belonging to our bodies. Anyone who has spent time with young children and animals will recognise this. The baby who is fascinated by their own hands. The cat who isn’t afraid to take up space yet has sharply tuned boundaries (literally and figuratively). The toddler who makes their needs clearly known. We understand our bodies as our home. As places of comfort, joy, trust and safety.1 As babies and young children we have not learned to feel shame about or judge our bodies. We have not yet learned to partition our bodies and minds. 

Our cultures of domination — that is to say capitalism and white supremacy – teach us early on that our bodies are inferior to our minds. That in order to be successful and valuable, we need to conquer our bodies. We hear that to achieve the things we want we just need to put ‘mind over matter’. We internalise that our needs come second to productivity, striving, and accomplishment. We learn that our bodies are inconvenient things we have, rather than part of who we are. Even when we are trying to be inclusive, we can inadvertently reinforce this division. ‘People in bigger bodies’ instead of fat people. Person with Autism instead of Autistic person. As though our bodies and mind are distinct and the experience of being fat or Autistic isn't integrated into our whole selves.

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