I was a ballerina, but now...I'm a rugby player.

You can see me using skills from both backgrounds here...

In all seriousness this transition had a huge impact on me.  Below I recall the importance of that change...

I had a low-grade eating disorder from age 12 to age 18.  This disorder was best defined by a cycle of varying degrees of restricted eating and times of bulimia.  This disorder was deeply entwined with my passion and commitment to ballet.  I had been dancing at least 25 hours a week since fifth grade.  I was very tight with my ballet friends and longed to be seen as successful and talented within the group. I am naturally a very small boned person, but during those years I was straight up tiny.  However I had a very distorted view of myself.  I can remember spending time in front of the full-length mirror in my room, pulling on “extra” skin and feeling extremely disgusted by the size and shape of my body.  As I began to grow out of clothes I had worn in my prepubescent years I started to feel like my body was huge.             

At this time in my life my mother was also trying very hard to loose weight.  She went on 3 different diets that seriously effected what kind of food she ate.  I started sneakily going on different diets that my mom was also on.  Atkins, South Beach, and Jenny Craig were specific diets that I remember dabbling in.  This started my obsession with controlling and restricting what kind of and how much food I ate.  These diets would be mixed in with times where I would restrict my food intake to under 500 calories a day.  I would only eat a nutrition bar for lunch and then have a sandwich or carrot stick packed dinner in between school and ballet.  It’s amazing looking back how easy it was for me to limit my food so extremely without having anyone notice.  When I wasn’t dieting or restricting my food I was also regularly binging and purging food.  Often when I would sleep over at someone’s house, or be involved in a social situation I would make a really big deal about “how much food I could eat”.  It was with delight that mothers of my friends would comment about my “hollow leg” and that it was amazing I never gained any weight!  I would eat many plates full of food at dinner, enjoy two servings of dessert, and run off to play with my friends.  Little did anyone know I was also regularly becoming disgusted with myself and within a few hours I would quietly sneak into a far bathroom and force myself to vomit all the food back up.  I think nobody ever suspected anything because of a combination of my happy and energetic exterior, the fact that all my friends had houses large enough that there were bathrooms out of the way, and my utter silence around this behavior due to my shame.

            When I was 18, I decided to take a year off between high school and college.  I had decided not to pursue ballet as a career because I realized how unhealthy the culture of ballet was.  I spent the year living in England and working at a college for young adults with developmental disabilities.  One month of that year I went and took a yoga teacher training in the Bahamas.  Part of this yoga teacher training was learning ancient Indian “purifying” rituals that were meant to cleans the body.  There were 80 people in my class and we all went through the bizarre acts of pouring salt water in one of our nostrils and watching it dribble out the other.  We swallowed a piece of soft cloth soaked in salt water and pulled it slowly back up our throats.  The final exercise was to swallow about 8 cups of salt water and then consciously vomit up this water as a way of cleansing the body.  I remember standing on the picturesque platform we all used to do yoga everyday and feeling waves of shame and panic wash over my body as I prepared for this “cleansing” activity.  After swallowing the water I felt naked as I prepared to force myself to throw up.  I had never had anyone watch me force myself to vomit.  As I joined the other people who had moved to the edge of the ocean and started throwing up the excess water I could not break the feeling of being seen at my worst.  Even though there were 80 of us, and nobody knew that I had a history of bulimia, I couldn’t help but feel like everyone was aware of my shame.  I finished the ritual and fell on the beach crying.  A friend of mine stayed with me and held me as I rocked back forth and admitted my past and gave voice to my shame and self-hatred.  I remember finally coming to place of calm sitting on the beach, now deserted.  I promised myself I would never force myself to throw up because of a desire to control my food intake ever again.

            I finished the retreat and returned to England.  I continued to feel shame and disgust towards my body, but kept my promise to myself.  Even when I ate more than was within the bounds of “ok” I never attempted to correct the situation by throwing up.  A kind of pride about making that change was deeply ingrained in me at that point.  I left England and came home and started college that fall.  I immediately signed up to play rugby. 

            In rugby there was a huge shift in how bodies were valued.  Coming in as a tiny and thin woman many people immediately began joking around with me.  I was going to have to put on weight, and fast, if I wanted to be successful in this new and exciting group of women.  Instead of competing against each other for a small number of spots like we had in ballet, this team needed everyone to push each other and work hard together for the success of the team as a whole.  Within a very short period of time my self-image began to shift.  Instead of looking in the mirror and seeing a huge, fat, and disgusting body I started to work out and eat massive amounts of food with the goal of gaining weight and muscle.  I still had a dysmorphic view of my own body.  I still believed that I was bigger than I was, but in the rugby community this was seen as “spunk”, “drive”, and “determination”.  Nobody could tell me I was little because I no longer wanted to hear that.  I played second row, which is a position that traditionally goes to the larger bodied players on the team.  They have to hold up the weight of the scrum and are the work horses on the field.  I was proud of the fact that I was as strong and as effective at the position despite the fact that other second rows in our league out-weighed me by at least 50 lbs.  People would laugh and tell me how little I was.  I would smile and say, “No, this is just a disguise, inside I’m really huge”.  The idea of being big was not disgusting or horrible anymore; it was a sign of strength and pride. 

How do we make the important changes in life?

         First, I believe that I needed to have the experience of deep and shattering shame as I was first actually seen performing the activity that represented my hatred of my body.  The emotional reaction that I had that day on the beach is like very few other moments in my life.  I remember being panicked and scared and not realizing why.  I had never before been hit by the force of feelings pushed down for so long.  At the same time that it was terrifying, I have never been so relieved to let something out and finally be seen.  This event was not only emotionally charged but was also set in a space that lent it to being memorable.  The view of the beach and being surrounded by people throwing up is not ever going to leave my mind.  I also had support immediately in that moment so that I could continue processing what was happening for me.  Also the fact that I was involved in a deeply reflective process of yoga training also opened me up to be hit as hard as I was by this situation. 

            I do not know if I would have been able to keep my promise to change my behavior if I had not joined the rugby team so soon after that life-changing event.  The rugby team had totally different values than I had grown up with as a ballerina.  Also, I had moved into a brand new circle of friends who had never known me before.  I had the ability to shape the person I could become based on new information and desires.  I no longer had to be accountable to the values and pressures of the ballet community.  The rugby team was an environment that encouraged feminist values and body positivity.  I happily jumped on board and starting going with this new flow.  It helped me so much to re-envision my body and work hard to become healthy and proud of myself.  I got a lot of positive attention as someone who was talented and skilled despite my small size.  In a way I wonder if I took all the force of will I had been using to hate and control myself, and instead used that energy fully on becoming a good rugby player.  I cannot imagine my life carrying around as much hatred and self-loathing as I used to.  It took so much energy to keep up, and in the end it was just hurting me.  I know for myself the importance of being in a community of caring, healthy, and positive people is huge when I assess my ability to make positive and lasting changes in my own life.   

To the ruggers in my life- I love you for so many reasons.  Not only for the laughter we've shared, the times you've been there when shit gets hard, but also because now every time I look in the mirror I actually like the person looking back.  Thanks guys...

Importance of Community

Below I share a realization I had at the importance of my community.  If you have stories of love pumping through your own community I would really love to have them shared here.

There have been so many unsettling events in my community of West Philadelphia in the last week.  It is important to note that the sense of unease goes much deeper than just the 2 natural disasters that have struck this woefully unprepared and prone to panic part of the country.  The things, you know- OTHER than the two natural disasters, that have left me with crawling skin include such headlines as Missing 2-day old boy found in Philadelphia, which turned out not to be a devious and bizarre baby snatching, but a mother who's rights had been terminated trying to keep her son.  There was also an ENTIRELY burned out car right in front of dear Pumpernickle's home.  This shell of a car could have easily been a seriously dangerous situation if it had exploded or caught fire.   Finally, the thing that has been most on my mind was the death of a young woman in the West Philadelphia community.  I do not know enough about what happened to speak about the incident with respect other than to say that someone in my community died this week.  Her name was May, and from pictures of her it seems like she fit into a lot of the same identities that I see when I look in the mirror.  These things have all been individually disturbing, but all together have left me with an unshakable sense of fearfulness.  

In direct response to my own fear, I would like to look at what good has come out of these incidents. They have shed light on the important aspects of my community that I don't always take the time to appreciate. Communities have their own personalities- just like people.  I think West Philadelphia is the first community I have lived in that I would describe as warm, caring, and personal.  I had never personally met May.  We had lots of shared friends, and she definitely existed in this small community of West Philly folks that I recognize from around town.  Within a few hours of her going missing (which preceeded the news that she had in fact passed away) I had seen multiple facebook about her, seen missing fliers up in local shops, and had had conversation with many people about the fact that there was a missing person from our community.  Even though I did not know May or talk to anyone directly looking for her- I was invested and cared about her well-being.  She had many people looking out for her, and trying to help.  I felt it was an organic and community wide effort that was fueled by caring. The news that her body had been found was also shepparded in by many concerned calls, processing conversations, and collectively sad hearts.  

I have never lived in a neighborhood that really connects people as intimately as West Philadelphia does.  I feel like people really are connected here in the way that makes it feel small in a good way.  I can't walk down Baltimore Ave. without stopping to say hi! to a few people I know.  Whenever I have visitors in town, they always comment about how amazing it is that we see so many people I know well enough to stop and say hi to.  "It's just the way that West Philadelphia is," I always truthfully respond.  

Even as I am working overtime to process the amount of news that has shaken my world over the last week- I am thankful to look around and see that I'm in a community that supports me in these hard moments.  Hard moments are going to come no matter what- but I would much rather bare the weight of those hardships being surrounded by people who care.

I just returned from a clothing swap where an example of how to build community was modeled perfectly. The event was already pretty fantastic seeing as the hostess provided a shelter and champagne for our wardrobe switch-a-roo. Another friend schlepped enough chili to feed more than a few hungry mouths, whiskey to share, and oooodles of amazing clothes on public transportation from Northern Liberties (that's a long journey!) for our enjoyment. Her generousity and love reminded me of the small/big ways we can all work to make those connections that sustain and support us in the hard moments.  

Here's a really cheezy poster to get a list started. I would really love to hear people's stories of how their communities respond to hard times.  What do you do to build community?  Has someone shown you love and support in a way that left a mark?  This world just keeps getting crazier and scarier, and sometimes I feel like the only thing we have is each other. 

Love! Donkey

Are you QUEER enough?

RULZ to live by, or MY QUEER MANIFESTO!

WARNING! This is probably offensive, but is put out there in hopes of starting smart, thoughtful, fun dialogue. Deal?

Oh man, do I love me some queer theory.  I am a self-identified (though not pretentious...as this post will surely show) THEORY NERD! I've also got a bit of the super-community-whore in me as well.  I love being part of communities.  Getting involved, making food, making friends...It's my jam.  So what could be more interesting to me than the myriad of conversations I've been having recently about the Queer Community.  

These conversations are commonly in this vein: "I love the queer community, but I find it can be very unfriendly", or "I don't feel like I'm accepted in the queer community because I don't LOOK queer", or...there's always the good old, "I think I'm more part of the lesbian community than the queer community".  I have some strong reactions to these comments.

So, I thought I'd write about what QUEER means to me.  The hard and fast RULZ! of being queer (tongue in cheek here people, obvi there aren't rules).  But here's how I know a queer when I see 'em.

Rule #1.  Anyone can be queer.

Yup.  You heard me.  Anyone.  Straight, white, cis-gender, non-disabled, monogamous, vanilla, rich, stereotypically fit and attractive frat boys can be queer. Stop freaking. Read on to rule #2

Rule #2 Being queer is political, behavioral, as well as community based.

I will consider you queer if you a) support queer politics through words and actions in your life (which I see as feminist, focusing on bringing attention to how power and privilege work in our world, mostly to the disadvantage of people of color, poor people, GSM* people, fat people, people in the disability community, etc..) b) want to be in the queer community and c) support other people being queer in the ways that make them happy.

*Have you guys heard of GSM?  It stands for Gender and Sexuality Minority.  I think this acronym should include people who are into polyamory, BDSM, and sex work as well as the LGBTIQQA crowd.  Why?  Well because I still think that's a minority of people, and the majority of folks have some feelings about those sexual practices...mostly negative feelings.  So....I have started using GSM instead of LGBT a lot of times. And! I'd put GSMers into the queer pot as well.  Well, except for those who don't want to be in the pot.  They don't have to get into the pot if they don't want to.

Rule #3 You probably have a strong affinity for glitter, rainbows, and unicorns.  And Lady Gaga.

I can't explain this rule.  I just know it to be true in my experience.  If you hate these things, you can still totally be allowed into my queer club (which I didn't know I had til right then)...but I bet you're just SAYING you don't like them to be contrary.  But maybe I'm wrong, maybe you really hate those things even though you're queer.  That's cool.  You're rare, friend.  

My rulz of queerness have officially ended.  

What's the point?  Mostly I want the amazingly engaged, active, subversive and transformative power that I see harnessed within the queer community to be open to people who care about being engaged, active, subversive and transformative.  I don't want people to feel awkward or unwelcomed because they're not "gay enough", "queer enough" or "trans enough".  I want people who are radical to be fucking friendly to each other.  I want people who grew up wearing polo shirts and who still wear polo shirts, because that's how they're comfortable...to sit next to a totally DIY grunge outfitted kid and be able to talk turkey about making this world DIFFERENT and BETTER.  

This doesn't mean I don't support SAFE SPACES.  I do.  I think having space where people who share specific experiences can get together and talk shop or support each other is REALLY important.  I'm mostly saying that I wish being queer wasn't JUST about who you wanna get it on with, or being gendervariant.  I wish being queer meant what it says on the bumper sticker in my car:

 As opposed to this:

So.  Do you identify as queer?  I wanna know, What makes you queer?  

love!

Donkey