Not East Nor West: On Asian-American Body Image

By Judy Lee ‘17

TRIGGER WARNING: Disordered eating, Toxic body image

It’s been a few days since Chinese (Lunar) New Year, and aside from all the festivities and vibrant cultural hallmarks, it has given me some time to reflect on my roots. I have no qualms about discussing (in great detail!) the amount of pride I have in being Asian-American. It is a source of strength and beauty I have grown to love more and more with age, but that’s not to say it is without its repercussions.

I attempted my first crash diet in the fourth grade. I don’t remember exactly what prompted it, but I wrote a diary entry in September 2004 detailing my frustration at watching my family members eat what they wanted while I had to settle for “eating just leaves.” I cringe reading the words of my nine-year-old self attempting to starve herself into perfection. 

Raised by a Korean family yet growing up in America, I was ushered into a odd crux of Western and Western-influenced Asian ideals of beauty. Bigs eyes, long lashes, pale skin, straight pearly whites, lithe body, thin nose-bridge, tall cheekbones, a river of black hair, soft but defined jawline, piano-fingers with lunar nails, and a demure disposition were all things expected of me by the age of nine. 

All this demanded of a short, tan, chubby fourth grader who liked her hair in ponytails, bit her nails compulsively, and enjoyed flicking dried mud from her muscular calves after a romp in a muddy field. This fourth grader liked cartwheels, Polly Pockets, finishing timed tests before her peers, Saturday morning toast, pulling grass out of the ground, and reading library books.

Before long, she decided she liked “eating just leaves.” I know. I’m not quite sure when that transition came about, but the fact of the matter is that it’s haunted me ever since. It’s become a part of me and only relatively recently did I begin realizing how horribly messed up it is. 

In the seventh grade, fashion became a center-stage topic of conversation. I became even more aware of how much space my body took up in a t-shirt, a pair of jeans, and so on. I had exactly one meal before the first day of school so that I could look presentable at the new school I’d be attending. I was under the impression that my entire first impression depended on what I wore and how I looked in it. 

As high school progressed, I became silently obsessed with controlling my body. I needed to look a certain way in photos or else I’d berate myself for a few days about it. I needed to look a certain way to peers that indicated I was capable of controlling myself. I needed to look a certain way that would be suitable for graduation. I needed to look a certain way to attract cute boys in college. I needed to look a certain way.

Stepping back and looking at the big picture, there are so many things wrong with little things that slip past our radar on a day-to-day basis. Isn’t it curious how women are always encouraged to be small (“oversized” things being cute, celebrity status quo, weight loss pills, crossing legs, clothing sizes hitting a literal “double zero”) and take up less space in comparison to men, who are encouraged to be big (big muscles, broad shoulders, “power” poses and seating, etc) and take up lots of space? 

Isn’t it strange that it’s second nature to pose yourself and monitor your body every couple seconds in a public place as if you were meant to be a nice object to be looked at approvingly? I’ve only fairly recently found that these things aren’t and shouldn’t be second nature. 

Yet, there’s no surprise here. I live in a society that capitalizes on my insecurity. I am raised to be perfect input for this system’s output. It doesn’t come as a shock to me that I am insecure in myself, physically speaking. I know countless others feel the same—and yet it is in numbers that I find hope in the resilience of my Asian American sisters who strive to rise above and beyond despite being made to feel a special flavor of worthlessness. It proves to me that we are all truly made to do so much more than pick ourselves apart.

In a time when loving yourself is a political act, it is even more imperative to seek your own peace. If you need resources, they are waiting for you to make the move. Here are are a couple:

-       USC Health Center: 213-740-7711
-       National Eating Disorders Association Hotline: 1-800-931-2237