The diet industry, often under the virtuous cloak of “wellness,” makes billions of dollars yearly. Many of the metrics it uses, like Body Mass Index (BMI), have been used in ways their creators did not intend, and which science doesn’t really support. A patient who is fat might visit their doctor for a burning rash on an arm, only to be lectured about weight loss. Those feel like rock bottom moments, but when you factor in discrimination against people of color and the gender-nonconforming that bottom drops out entirely. “Decolonizing Wellness: A QTBIPOC-centered Guide to Escape the Diet Trap, Heal Your Self-Image, and Achieve Body Liberation” (BenBella Books) is a gift to anyone whose skin color or gender presentation has left them feeling underserved or abused by health practitioners. It should also be required reading for anyone hoping to provide real care to their patients and clients.
Author Dalia Kinsey begins with a truly damning introduction, touching on health care disparities like the Black maternal mortality rate and her own experiences with racism as both a student and practicing dietician. But she counters her own argument strategically, noting, “Identifying areas of disparity doesn’t have to be soul-crushing. It is just information we can act on.” It’s this thoughtful, observant approach that makes her work accessible, and easy to act upon.
Structured as a workbook with journaling exercises and things to try, Kinsey punctures diet myths and ties them to the worst failures of colonialism. A culture fixated on individualism likes to keep people isolated and in competition with one another for resources. Not only does this kind of stress prompt disordered eating, it also shames people into not asking for help. If you’re able to overcome that and reach out, the help you receive might be so steeped in those same warped values that it does more harm than good. Reflecting on how these failures have impacted your health can be upsetting; the journal work here goes deep and can bring up hurt and angry feelings. Sections on self-care, experimenting with joyful movement instead of forced exercise, and mindfulness, all help with processing what gets unearthed.
This book feels vitally important, and while it’s written to directly serve Queer and Transgender People of Color (QTBIPOC) as recipients of care, it should also be read by health care workers everywhere. Just as reflecting on how a doctor’s assumption about your pain tolerance can be retraumatizing, reading about the real impact poor quality care has on patients will likely (hopefully?) make some providers squirm with recognition. It can also offer a path toward doing better in the future. Kinsey makes it clear that poor health outcomes can’t be tied to racial assumptions; if people aren’t thriving as a group, disparities in treatment are the problem.
Reading this as a fat queer person who is also white was … an adventure, honestly. I would tap into something completely relatable to my own experience, then turn the page and find a situation where my race was protective (and my blind spots were substantial). Kinsey describes being a fan of spas, but repeatedly having her hair mishandled by employees who had no experience with Black hair proved to be anything but relaxing; finally finding a spa where she felt welcome was an emotional experience. A spa day is ideally a fun, low-stakes outing, but not if you don’t feel cared for when you’re there. And a nutritionist who tells you the foods you grew up with and love are unequivocally “bad” without asking about your history with them is unlikely to cure your heart disease with their hot take.
If you’ve read a lot of health and wellness books, the discussion of mindful eating, meditation, and affirmations may feel familiar to you. But I love the subtle tweaks given to these tools. There’s frank discussion about how notions of “good behavior” have moral superiority attached to them, and as someone newly converted to kale smoothies, I felt distinctly called out by the reminder that you can’t virtue signal your way to immortality. If taking on the big message in an affirmation like, “I enjoy food without guilt,” feels threatening, it can be softened by changing it to, “I’m learning to enjoy food without guilt.” It’s a small thing, but a good reminder that expanding thought, language, or care, to include more people does not have to be back-breaking. Small changes do a lot.
“Decolonizing Wellness” is going to be an amazing resource for QTBIPOC people, but truly, if you currently have a body you will benefit from this book. And if you are any kind of health practitioner and think you’re doing great where issues of race, body size, and gender identity are concerned? Read this as a way of checking in, just to see if there’s anything you might be missing. If you’re unpleasantly surprised, the good news is you’ll already be well on the way to doing better. You can’t take care of someone if you can’t see who they are.
Heather Seggel is a writer living in Northern California.
From The Progressive Populist, December 1, 2021
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