Expanding the Narrative Beyond Stereotypes
When we think about eating disorders, a certain image tends to come to mind: a thin, white, cisgender woman struggling with restrictive eating, often driven by an unattainable beauty standard. This is the story that has been told over and over again in the media, in research, and even in clinical training. While this experience is absolutely valid, it represents only one part of a much bigger, much more complicated reality.
The truth is, eating disorders don’t discriminate. They exist in every culture, across all genders, body types, and socioeconomic backgrounds. They are not always about wanting to be thin, and they are certainly not always recognized by clinicians, by families, or even by the individuals struggling with them. The way we talk about eating disorders, the way we diagnose them, and the way we approach treatment have all been shaped by a narrow, Western framework that doesn’t capture the full picture. As a result, many people are left suffering in silence, without access to the support and care they need.
The Role of Culture, Identity, and Systems in Disordered Eating
Food is never just food. It carries meaning culturally, socially, and personally. It represents love, nourishment, comfort, control, scarcity, tradition, and rebellion. When someone struggles with their relationship with food, it’s rarely just about the food itself it’s about what food represents in the broader context of their life.
In many collectivist cultures, food is deeply tied to family and tradition. Rejecting food, or struggling with eating, might not be seen as a “personal” issue it might be perceived as a family rupture, something shameful, or even as a spiritual imbalance. In some communities, weight loss isn’t seen as concerning but as desirable, making it even harder for individuals to recognize that they are struggling. For others, food is survival, and disordered eating emerges not from body image concerns but from cycles of scarcity, trauma, and economic stress.
Consider how eating disorders show up in marginalized communities. Black and Latinx individuals are less likely to be diagnosed, even when presenting with the same symptoms as white individuals. LGBTQ+ individuals experience some of the highest rates of eating disorders, yet research on their experiences remains limited. Men who struggle with disordered eating are often overlooked, their symptoms dismissed or reframed as a desire for fitness rather than a serious mental health concern.
Then there’s the way we pathologize certain bodies while ignoring others. Larger-bodied individuals can engage in highly restrictive eating behaviors for months sometimes years before anyone considers it a problem. Meanwhile, someone in a smaller body displaying the exact same symptoms is more likely to be flagged for intervention. These disparities aren’t just frustrating; they’re dangerous.
Expanding the way, We Understand and Treat Eating Disorders
If we want to create real, effective change, we need to step back and rethink how we assess and treat eating disorders.
For one, we need to stop seeing weight as the central measure of concern. Recovery isn’t just about numbers on a scale, it’s about someone’s relationship with food, their sense of self, and their ability to trust their own body again. We need to move beyond the rigid categories of “anorexia” and “bulimia” and recognize the spectrum of disordered eating, including patterns that may not fit neatly into a DSM diagnosis but still cause significant distress and impairment.
We also need to recognize that treatment cannot be one-size-fits-all. An approach that works well for a young, single woman with body image concerns may not resonate with an immigrant mother whose relationship with food is shaped by generational trauma and survival. Someone struggling with compulsive exercise might need a different therapeutic lens than someone who binges in response to food insecurity. If we truly want to support people in healing, we have to meet them where they are, with an understanding of the cultural, systemic, and individual factors that shape their experience.
Finally, we need to shift our public narratives about eating disorders. Representation matters not just in research, but in the conversations, we have about recovery, in the stories we tell in the media, and in the way we train clinicians. If people don’t see themselves in the resources available, they may never realize they need help. If we only focus on certain narratives, we risk leaving entire communities behind.
A Call for a More Inclusive Future
Eating disorders are complex, messy, deeply personal and deeply cultural. No one experiences them in a vacuum. They are influenced by our environments, our histories, our social structures, and our identities. And yet, the way we have historically talked about them has been far too narrow.
It’s time to do better. It’s time to expand our lens, challenge old assumptions, and create treatment models that truly reflect the diversity of human experience. Healing is not just about food, it’s about being seen, heard, and understood. And that should be something available to everyone.
Bringing Healing into Everyday Life: The Role of Compassionate Eating
Understanding the systemic, cultural, and psychological layers of eating disorders is essential but awareness alone isn’t enough. Healing requires new ways of engaging with food and the body, not through rigid rules or forced “fixes,” but through compassion, patience, and self-trust.
For many people struggling with disordered eating, food is loaded with fear, guilt, and external rules. Eating without judgment or listening to the body’s cues without second-guessing them can feel impossible. This is where a small but powerful shift can begin: Compassionate Eating.
This practice isn’t about restriction or control; it’s about tuning in, removing guilt, and honoring the body’s needs without shame. It’s a simple, intuitive intervention that anyone can try, regardless of where they are in their relationship with food.
It begins with a pause. Before eating, take a deep breath. Notice what you’re feeling, not just hunger but emotions, physical sensations, or external pressures that might influence the moment. Instead of judging what you eat, ask: What does my body need right now? What would feel nourishing, not just physically but emotionally?
For many, food carries deep moral labels: “good” or “bad,” “clean” or “junk.” These labels create guilt, restriction, and rebellion cycles that disconnect people from what their bodies truly need. What if we approached it with neutrality and curiosity instead of battling food? The next time a negative thought about food arises, “I shouldn’t eat this,” or “I have to burn this off, “pause and challenge it gently: “I deserve nourishment. My body knows what to do.”
And then there’s fullness. That moment that can feel overwhelming or even unsafe for many people with a history of restrictive or compulsive eating. Instead of seeing fullness as failure, what if it were seen as a sign of care, satiety, and safety? If distress arises, place a hand on your stomach, breathe deeply, and remind yourself: “I am safe. My body is working exactly as it should.”
These small but powerful shifts can begin to loosen the grip of external rules, cultural expectations, and years of learned distrust around food and the body. Compassionate Eating isn’t a diet, a treatment plan, or a quick fix. It’s an ongoing practice of self-kindness, curiosity, and rebuilding trust, which is something that can be integrated into daily life step by step, meal by meal.
