Trigger warning: The following contains language describing eating-disorder behaviors.
I was a sophomore in college the first time I conducted an online search for “weight-loss tips” and accidentally stumbled into one of the darkest corners of the Internet: the world of “pro-eating-disorder” content. With just a few clicks, I was scrolling through a brightly colored blog on LiveJournal (this was in 2005), past images of extremely emaciated women, sharp rib cages and protruding hip bones, some covered in now cringe-worthy captions like “nothing tastes as good as skinny feels.” I was intoxicated by the skeletal women on the screen and soon detailed a plan to brutally cut my calorie intake.
That was more than a decade ago. But in the age of social media, pro-eating-disorder (or pro-ED) content like this is never more than a tap away. Whether we’re searching for it or not, our feeds are filled with images of “perfect” bodies that, at the very least, can contribute to negative self-esteem, and at worst serve as triggers for those of us living under the shadow of an eating disorder.
The Dark World of Pro-ED Content
The idea of pro-eating-disorder anything is absurd; why would anyone want to glorify eating disorders, a category of mental illness with the highest mortality rate? But promote it people do—despite campaigns and news stories about how harmful eating disorders are—leading others like myself to falsely believe that eating disorders are a choice, something to aspire to, rather than what they are: a sickness that affects at least 30 million people of all ages and genders in the United States.
My first brush with the pro-ED blog on LiveJournal was only the tip of the thinspiration iceberg—there were dozens more pages like it, many of which are still live today, despite other platforms' taking a stand against content glorifying eating disorders. (Glamour reached out to LiveJournal for comment on the pro-ED content on the platform but did not receive a reply.)
In this social media era, pro-ED content has mutated to keep up with the rapid evolution of technology. After LiveJournal, there was Tumblr, another haven for communities promoting unhealthy behaviors. Facebook, Instagram, and Twitter have all similarly developed their own pockets of “thinspo.”
Yet alongside the growth of social media there was also a growth of knowledge: We know more about eating disorders today than we did in the early 2000s. We’re equipped with language to discuss them in more productive ways. Body positivity has reframed the way we talk about our bodies both online and off. Most of all, with so many people (Instagram influencers and “regular” folk alike) going viral every day for embracing—and celebrating—their body’s flaws, social media has rapidly turned into a place where every body can and should be considered beautiful.
That movement has helped fuel a crackdown on pro-ED material online. In 2012, after I had been in recovery for several years, Tumblr, a notorious hub for thinspo, banned all pro-ED content. Facebook, Twitter, and Pinterest all have similar policies.
Instagram has also been censoring. In December 2018 the platform announced it was upping its game, making it even harder for users to search for hashtags promoting eating disorders. Now if you search for pro-ED terms, Instagram flags you with a warning: “Can we help? Posts with words or tags you’re searching for often encourage behavior that can cause harm and even lead to death. If you’re going through something difficult, we’d like to help.” The platform offers you the option to “get support” or “see posts anyway.”
This is part of Instagram’s “holistic” approach, a spokesperson for Instagram said in a statement provided to Glamour. The platform has partnered with the National Eating Disorders Association (NEDA) to create an eating-disorders help page and guide for parents. “Experts we work with tell us that communication is key in order to create awareness, and that coming together for support and facilitating recovery is important,” Instagram’s spokesperson said.
This is great. But banning thinspo content is kind of like playing whack-a-mole—as soon as a site bans a certain hashtag, another pops up in its place. “Unfortunately, far too many accounts—celebrities, companies, and everyday people—share ‘thinspiration,’ and more recently ‘fitspiration,’ images,” says Claire Mysko, CEO of NEDA. I’m not seeking these images out anymore, but when I come across seemingly “perfect” photos of models and celebrities, it’s as if they are speaking directly to the ghost of my eating disorder. It’s hard not to be haunted.
The Internet to the Rescue
The Internet was an unmistakable accomplice in my destructive behavior for more than three years. After stepping into the pro-ED corner of the Internet, I couldn’t look away. All I could think about was how much I weighed, and how much more I wanted to lose. I became obsessed with numbers, assigning calorie limits to each day. And I continued to consume pro-ED content hungrily, staring at pictures of tiny wrists and pointy collarbones with desire and envy. I didn’t idolize the people in the pictures so much as I admired their parts; I saw everyone, including myself, in jagged fragments.
Anyone in their right mind would have told me to just step away from the screen. But paradoxically, the Internet was where I found my hope of recovery. During my senior year of college, when I was admittedly at my sickest, I found an online community (ironically, also via LiveJournal) of women and girls going through the same thing. Suddenly I wasn’t alone.
That’s one of the most important things you can hear when you’re struggling with recovery, Mysko says. From my own experience as a survivor, I know she’s right: Finding a place where I could be myself, sharing the struggles and fears I was often too afraid to say out loud to friends, was powerful.
This is what makes the Internet so complicated when you have an eating disorder—it’s an enabler and a life preserver. LiveJournal fed my dangerous appetite for thinness. But it’s also where I finally found my safe haven, when not even my closest friends knew what I was going through.
Jenny, the founder of the eating-disorder recovery group I found on LiveJournal, had that goal in mind when she created it in 2005. “I started it at the age of 16 in the hopes of creating a closed online community where people could make honest connections without anonymity,” the now 30-year-old says. “I wanted to create something that was nuanced, something that accepted the realities of mental-health issues—such as relapse and chronic behaviors or thought patterns—without judgment, while also genuinely caring about the well-being of the person behind the story.”
Like many other eating-disorder survivors, Jenny, who has struggled with restricting and bingeing/purging behaviors on and off since she was 12, had also been enticed by the pro-ED content quietly spreading across the Internet. “I was a preteen and I wanted to lose weight and suddenly these online communities were…offering advice on how to be ‘successful,’” she says. “The experience was intoxicating for a young girl.” In part, this is what led her to create an antidote: a place on the Internet where recovery was an option, where we could freely admit we were sick.
Olivia*, 32, was part of the same LiveJournal group. Unlike in-person therapy groups she attended for her eating disorder, her online network never made her feel judged. “I felt connected to what felt like a group of other whip-smart, sad, sick girls who were also still figuring out how to live, how to want to keep living,” Olivia says. “I also remember having really strong feelings about wanting everyone else in the group to be OK—I was often afraid other girls there would get sicker or die—while at the same time fearing that people would recover and leave me there.”
Eating disorders are visceral and detail oriented, and so much of the illness involves numbers and rituals, that it can be difficult to speak candidly about them without triggering someone else. Even social media communities where people find recovery and support can be filled with pro-ED landmines. “Any sort of ED group talk is always going to be a mess,” Olivia says. That’s especially true without the presence of a trained therapist to guide the conversation, as you’d typically find offline. (“When sharing your story with other survivors, the best and most helpful thing you can do is to avoid mentioning any specific behaviors you engaged in,” Mysko advises.) And online groups may not be curated based on where people are in their recovery. “Not everyone was interested in getting better,” says Melissa, another member of the LiveJournal group. “We all fluctuated in our recoveries over the years.”
Living With an Eating Disorder in the Age of Social Media
Today I tend to avoid prominent Instagram influencers who post “fitspiration” or pictures of transformational weight loss, knowing my own triggers. Jessica, 30, an anorexia survivor, employs the same strategy. “I try to follow women on Instagram who I admire for reasons other than their bodies: inspirational women like Jane Goodall, funny women like Jameela Jamil or Julia Louis-Dreyfus,” she says. “But the content about thigh gaps and hip bones showing will always get through, regardless of whether I seek it out or not.”
That’s the simple truth of living with an eating disorder and living with social media. There will always be triggering content that keeps the specter of an eating disorder close at all times. There will always be people with EDs who aren’t ready to get better, who are convincing themselves they’re choosing the illness, rather than the other way around. And yet there will also always be posts steeped in body positivity that provide inspiration of another kind. There will always be communities of women wrestling with their illness, ready to offer support, encouragement, and the knowledge that we are not alone.
Even in recovery, I sense the fingerprints of my eating disorder everywhere. The knee-jerk feeling of “I’ll do better tomorrow” still shows up after meals; I still judge some foods by their calorie count. And social media is always there, adding fuel to the fire with fitness-oriented posts that mention calories and weight loss. But at least I know now that my eating disorder wasn’t a choice; it’s an illness that women all over the world are struggling with too. When I remember that, I can find the strength to unfollow, block, and delete. And I can choose to tap “get support.”
*Some names have been changed for privacy.
De Elizabeth is a writer and editor specializing in pop culture, mental health, and anything related to Pretty Little Liars. You can follow her on Twitter @deelizabeth_.
