By Adiba Nelson

As an Afro-latina woman, you are not supposed to have an eating disorder. And you certainly are not supposed to talk about having one. You are not supposed to worry about things like being fat, big, or overweight, because those words are replaced with pretty, flowery words, like “phat,” “thick,” and “big boned.”

Sheer delight and absurd horror

As Afro-latinas, we are inadvertently taught to cherish our thick thighs, our round ass, and our full, ample bosom, while, at the same time, accepting pet names like “gordita.” These two things juxtaposed against each other is like getting hit in the face with a twinkie. You want to scream from the sheer delight and absurd horror of it all.

Prized possessions

They (thighs, ass, and breasts) are seen as prized possessions. There is the worldwide adoration of Beyoncé and Jennifer Lopez, and, even if you culturally fit into both their worlds, physically you may not.

There are whole songs dedicated to the adoration of full-figured bodies. The most famous of these is “Baby Got Back” by Sir Mix-A-Lot. He flat out says, “You can do side bends or sit-ups, but please don’t lose that butt!” And at another part, he says, “So Cosmo says you’re fat! Well, I ain’t down with that!”

Uuuummm, how in the hell do you argue with that?

I’ll tell you. You don’t. You don’t argue with the song that inadvertently tells you that your body isn’t right. You don’t argue with the magazines that tell you that your body isn’t right. You don’t argue with a culture that says you’re fine as you are, but, if you don’t look like XYZ, then you’re not fine.

Mixed messages

There is zero reconciliation between what is culturally acceptable and what is socially acceptable.

It is in that negative space that I found myself staring at the inside of a toilet bowl in Las Vegas, with my fingers down my throat, saying ‘peace out’ to Cheesecake Factory.

Because, remember, having an eating disorder is not something you talk about in our community.

You don’t have an eating disorder. You can just “eat” – as in, “Damn! That girl can EAT!” Hell, you don’t even accept the words “eating disorder.”

In the black community, you are “thick” and “big boned.” In the Latin community (or at least in my immediate Latin community/family), chubby children are praised and called adorable.

My family often served me “grown man” sized meals, because I could eat everything on my plate.

They didn’t know I was eating until I could no longer breathe. They were oblivious to the fact that I was eating to keep myself from crying. To them, I was just eating, and it was precious.

Only, it wasn’t.

Hello, eating disorder

It was the beginning of the thing that is never to be named. It was the beginning of the thing that would later on become fodder for family jokes. It was the beginning of the thing that would eventually lead to a bathroom in Las Vegas where you could bet your very last dollar I was throwing up everything.

This was nothing new to me, as I had been emotionally eating since age 6. The difference this time around was that I now knew that I didn’t have to hold it all in. I could purge my feelings and my food, in one fell swoop – or finger gag, if you will. And purge I did. And keep it to myself, I did.

Because, remember, it’s just not something we talk about.

But, now, we do. Because it’s only by talking about it and sharing our stories that we can stop the secrecy. Stop the shame. Stop the suffering. And, maybe, eventually, stop the stigma.

About Adiba Nelson

Adiba Nelson currently resides in Tucson, AZ, with her husband, 6-year-old daughter, and 2 teenage stepsons. When she is not advocating for disability rights, body love/size acceptance, performing burlesque, or writing her face off, she is busy ironing her cape and looking for ways to fit more shoes in her closet. She is also the author of the children’s book Meet ClaraBelle Blue and is currently working on her memoir. You can find Adiba at https://thefullnelson.net/.

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