In honour of mental health awareness month
All my life, I have heard stories about sexism, and known that it existed, but it never truly reached me further than the pages of a newspaper or the retelling of a story. I was lucky in this sense.
The first time sexism really hit me, was when I was sitting in a hospital emergency room in the middle of the night, in Miami, in the Fall of 2014. I was in tears, fearful for my life, and my mind, which had been spiralling out of control for the past week. I remember the awful fluorescent lights that blinded and burned my already fatigued eyes, and the homeless men who would whistle at me and call me ‘baby.’ Even though my mother, aunt, and uncle were there, I felt so alone, as if they were behind a two-sided mirror, and I could see them, but they could not see me. I was violently shaking and felt myself begin to doubt my own sanity and literally see my dream of studying at St Andrews dissipate.
The situation took a turn for the worse when I was taken into a private room, where a man who claimed to be a ‘Family Doctor’ asked me a bunch of questions. I cannot remember anymore what exact questions he asked me, because the whole night is blurry and goes in and out of focus like a camera lens, but I do remember that he was so confused as to why I was anorexic and suicidal. He told me ‘men don’t like skinny girls, they like real girls with curves.’ He spoke with an air of confidence, as if his words would miraculously cure me. As if I had developed anorexia as a result of false pretences, and wanting people, specifically men, to like me. I already felt disgusted and ashamed at myself, but his words and ignorance cut freshly through me like the razor blades I used to hurt myself. I hated him. I wanted to scream at him and tell him he had no right to be a doctor if he couldn’t even treat a suicidal 18 year old girl with compassion, or even just comprehend an illness like anorexia. But I could not scream, all I could do was cry and cry, and ceaselessly shake from the cold sweats of anxiety and fear. All this time, he sheepishly smiled and looked at me the way that a predator looks at its prey before it pounces.
When people speak of ‘mansplaining,’ I think of that night. He invalidated my pain and suffering, and told me that all I had to do to ‘cure’ myself was to gain weight. Everyone would like me then, and what was I if no man liked me? Undesirable. He made me feel as though my only value was to be the apple of someone’s eye; to be cute and pretty and sweet. Not covered in angry red cuts, pale from starvation and hollowed black eyes from insomnia. I was the wrong palette of colours for him, or any other man. This gave me more reasons to despise myself and want to throw myself in front of a fast car, which I had been seconds away from doing on that same night.
I have experienced so much sexism related to my struggles with anorexia and mental illness. Multiple times I was told it was a ‘rich girl’s disease,’ an ‘egocentric female condition,’ an illness that I had willed to happen, because I was bored and attention seeking. I can assure everyone that this was not the case. I did not want anorexia. I did not want depression or anxiety, and I surely did not want to hate myself to the depths of suicide seeming like a great idea. While I do not blame sexism and society’s endlessly high standards, I can see how it played into my illness. To be rejected and put down when I was already putting myself down was not helpful in the least. What I needed, more than anything, was love and patience. I needed someone to tell me that I was okay, that I would be loved no matter the situation or my weight, or the amount of scars on my arms, or the anxiety that pumped through my heart. While I am incredibly lucky to have received this love and care from my family, I know that this is not true for most girls and women, who continually receive the message that they are not good enough.
The only way to cure the world of this ignorance is to educate it. I cannot stress enough the importance of feminism, and the work which women (and men!) do to battle sexism and sexual violence. Just like the belief that one race is superior to the other is wrong, so is the belief that one gender is better than the other. Men and women should be equal, under both natural and civil laws. So there’s a piece of my FEMALE mind.
The first time sexism really hit me, was when I was sitting in a hospital emergency room in the middle of the night, in Miami, in the Fall of 2014. I was in tears, fearful for my life, and my mind, which had been spiralling out of control for the past week. I remember the awful fluorescent lights that blinded and burned my already fatigued eyes, and the homeless men who would whistle at me and call me ‘baby.’ Even though my mother, aunt, and uncle were there, I felt so alone, as if they were behind a two-sided mirror, and I could see them, but they could not see me. I was violently shaking and felt myself begin to doubt my own sanity and literally see my dream of studying at St Andrews dissipate.
The situation took a turn for the worse when I was taken into a private room, where a man who claimed to be a ‘Family Doctor’ asked me a bunch of questions. I cannot remember anymore what exact questions he asked me, because the whole night is blurry and goes in and out of focus like a camera lens, but I do remember that he was so confused as to why I was anorexic and suicidal. He told me ‘men don’t like skinny girls, they like real girls with curves.’ He spoke with an air of confidence, as if his words would miraculously cure me. As if I had developed anorexia as a result of false pretences, and wanting people, specifically men, to like me. I already felt disgusted and ashamed at myself, but his words and ignorance cut freshly through me like the razor blades I used to hurt myself. I hated him. I wanted to scream at him and tell him he had no right to be a doctor if he couldn’t even treat a suicidal 18 year old girl with compassion, or even just comprehend an illness like anorexia. But I could not scream, all I could do was cry and cry, and ceaselessly shake from the cold sweats of anxiety and fear. All this time, he sheepishly smiled and looked at me the way that a predator looks at its prey before it pounces.
When people speak of ‘mansplaining,’ I think of that night. He invalidated my pain and suffering, and told me that all I had to do to ‘cure’ myself was to gain weight. Everyone would like me then, and what was I if no man liked me? Undesirable. He made me feel as though my only value was to be the apple of someone’s eye; to be cute and pretty and sweet. Not covered in angry red cuts, pale from starvation and hollowed black eyes from insomnia. I was the wrong palette of colours for him, or any other man. This gave me more reasons to despise myself and want to throw myself in front of a fast car, which I had been seconds away from doing on that same night.
I have experienced so much sexism related to my struggles with anorexia and mental illness. Multiple times I was told it was a ‘rich girl’s disease,’ an ‘egocentric female condition,’ an illness that I had willed to happen, because I was bored and attention seeking. I can assure everyone that this was not the case. I did not want anorexia. I did not want depression or anxiety, and I surely did not want to hate myself to the depths of suicide seeming like a great idea. While I do not blame sexism and society’s endlessly high standards, I can see how it played into my illness. To be rejected and put down when I was already putting myself down was not helpful in the least. What I needed, more than anything, was love and patience. I needed someone to tell me that I was okay, that I would be loved no matter the situation or my weight, or the amount of scars on my arms, or the anxiety that pumped through my heart. While I am incredibly lucky to have received this love and care from my family, I know that this is not true for most girls and women, who continually receive the message that they are not good enough.
The only way to cure the world of this ignorance is to educate it. I cannot stress enough the importance of feminism, and the work which women (and men!) do to battle sexism and sexual violence. Just like the belief that one race is superior to the other is wrong, so is the belief that one gender is better than the other. Men and women should be equal, under both natural and civil laws. So there’s a piece of my FEMALE mind.
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