Content warning: This article discusses eating disorders, body image and mental health.
With over 1.1 million Australians living with an eating disorder, there’s no question that the issue is widespread. However, it’s also important to examine eating disorders from an intersectional perspective, understanding that people from culturally and linguistically diverse backgrounds often face unique challenges, particularly when it comes to seeking help.
The Butterfly Foundation is a national charity for Australians impacted by eating disorders and body image issues, and in the last financial year, 16% of contacts to Butterfly’s National Helpline identified as being from a culturally and linguistically diverse background.
“But the true number of culturally diverse Australians that are impacted could be much higher,” Melissa Wilton, Butterfly Head of Communications & Engagement, tells Missing Perspectives. “We know that less than one in three people with eating disorders seek support or treatment, and that the stigma around eating disorders, a lack of awareness, and the barriers to receiving treatment are often greater for individuals in culturally and linguistically diverse communities.”
Varsha Yajman is an Indian Australian activist and writer, who says she “had a very hard time” seeking help for her eating disorder when signs first became apparent when she was 14. After seeing a GP who told her “to do nothing except say ‘eat more and exercise less’”, she was later “referred to a dietician who also did not acknowledge I was struggling with an ED,” says Yajman, “and instead asked me whether I was there to ‘lose or gain weight’”. Three years later, her GP finally diagnosed her with an eating disorder.
“I am a first-generation South Asian, and my family, like many others, has struggled with racism and having to adapt to a whole new culture, let alone challenges with mental health,” she says.
“Their struggles don’t invalidate mine, but the language my relatives initially used around my eating disorder made me feel like I could never talk about it. Simply saying, ‘I have an eating disorder’ is something uncommon, almost alien.”
“I can’t tell you the number of times I was told I should eat because people back home in India couldn’t. ‘You should be grateful for the food,’ they would say. ‘So many people have it harder than you… Varsha, you need to be more resilient. Other people make it through the day without complaining about food,’ they would say.”
The cultural emphasis that South Asians often place on eating when it comes to festivals, celebrations and rituals, can make one’s perceptions towards food and having an eating disorder even more complicated.
“I began avoiding family dinners and festival feasts, knowing I would be asked whether I had tried the ladoos or why ‘I was only eating that much’,” explains Yajman. “I thought it was just the sacrifice of a couple of chapatis, a few spoons of rice, and a ladle of sambar.”
“The importance of food and South Asian culture is something my brain is still working to grasp,” she adds. “During the depths of my eating disorder, I thought ‘skinny’ was an achievement. It was the underlying message when an aunty would tell me that I ‘looked good’ or asked me ‘how I was so disciplined’ with admiration and envy in their eyes.
“However, I also got comments saying that I ‘looked sick’ or was not ‘eating enough’. Sometimes they would even go up to my Mum and tell her that, acting like it was her fault that a mental illness had consumed, when really it was not.”
The Butterfly Foundation’s Paying the Price report, in partnership with Deloitte, was released earlier this year and revealed women are twice as likely as men to experience an eating disorder. Having said that, the struggles faced by men can’t be ignored, particularly in culturally and linguistically diverse communities because of the unique challenges around stigma, mentality towards food and body image, and a lack of awareness.
Tharindu Jayadeva (aka TJ) migrated to Australia from Sri Lanka at a young age and as he looked around and struggled to feel a sense of belonging, he desperately wanted to fit in.
“As a child I was overweight, and felt deeply uncomfortable about my appearance. Comments from my teachers which normalised casual racism and fatphobia contributed to me dieting through primary school and high school,” says Jayadeva.
“After years of navigating my cultural identity and the impacts of family violence, the transition from high school to university brought along with it many stressors that were challenging to handle alone. I remember feeling as though I wasn’t good enough. I had constant reminders that I didn’t look like the men constantly shown in the media, and that I was a failure as a man by my father.
“It was during this time of transition that I was diagnosed with anorexia nervosa, bulimia nervosa, obsessive compulsive disorder, and depression.”
Jayadeva mentions media, and it’s an important factor to pay attention to. While the landscape is improving, media and advertising has long promoted Euro-centric beauty standards that idealise the image of thin, white and blonde.
“Constantly seeing a very specific body type and representation in entertainment, fashion and media more broadly was really saddening for me,” says Jayadeva. “As someone who already didn’t see himself represented in the spaces he was physically in, like school, university and work, it often felt as though I didn’t even exist.
“We can’t be what we can’t see, and representation in media is important to show that people of colour deserve to be here, to be celebrated, and to be loved.”
Yajman agrees, explaining that “for the longest time, I thought there was something wrong with my body”.
“My idea of beauty was very narrow in that I only saw it as being the thin beautiful white girl on TV or on my Instagram feed.”
An especially harmful stereotype is that eating disorders are only a young white woman’s problem – which makes speaking up even more challenging for people of colour.
“It’s a frustrating dialogue that is constantly parroted in the community, which makes it hard for anyone who is not white to seek help. For me finding others who are willing to share their story has seen this myth slowly be broken down,” says Yajman.
Echoing this, Jayadeva says that the significance of representation can’t be ignored.
“One of the most powerful things I’ve seen and heard, are people of colour leaning into lived experience storytelling and sharing their stories safely,” he says. “Vulnerability breeds vulnerability, and without seeing myself represented in conversations about eating disorders and body image issues I felt undeserving of support.”
From the Butterfly Foundation’s perspective, a multi-layered approach is essential to addressing eating disorders, including in South Asian and other CALD communities.
“We need to see increased government investment into all areas of eating disorders – prevention, early intervention, research, treatment and support,” says Wilton.
“We also need to spread further awareness that eating disorders can impact anyone, of any background or ethnicity, and amplify diverse stories of lived experience, so that more researchers and those in the sector know that this is a priority area to investigate.”
Speaking about their personal experiences isn’t necessarily easy, perhaps even so for this interview. But Yajman and Jayadeva believe it’s the breaking down of these stigmas and barriers that will help others.
“Ultimately, eating disorders and body image issues can impact anyone, so it is vital that diverse and intersectional experiences are elevated and shared to inspire hope and support seeking,” says Jayadeva.
“To feel seen and represented is incredibly powerful, and is one of the reasons why I share my story. I do this for a younger TJ who felt scared and alone, who just wanted to fit in and belong in systems that sadly weren’t made with him in mind.”
The Butterfly Foundation has launched its new awareness campaign,Kindly Do, Kindly Don’t during Body Image and Eating Disorders Awareness Week that runs from September 2-8.
If you or anyone you know requires support, please contact the Butterfly Foundation at 1800 33 4673 or 1800RESPECT on 1800 737 732.