In a world of hierarchy and patriarchy, men have discovered the perfect way to remain in control: competition. As humans, we crave power, and society teaches us that the way to achieve that power is to be better than the next person. For hundreds of years, women have been pitted against each other and conditioned to tear other women down. Society is structured by those in power, creating a system in which women must gain the validation of our male counterparts in order to succeed. This power is then substantiated by one of the master’s greatest tools: division. The master’s tools are the systems and ideas that keep the master’s white-supremacist, patriarchal, heteronormative narrative in place. For the master’s tools to work, women in society must remain divided. As Audre Lorde writes, “women so empowered are dangerous.” Female unity is dangerous to the hierarchy; dangerous to their power and control.
I met my best friend in sixth grade. She was talented, funny, beautiful, and kind. I was immediately drawn to her, and so was everyone else. The closer we became, the more people compared us.
“Cassidy has the face, but her best friend has the body,” boys would say. As we grew closer, the comparisons grew more intense. Not only did I need to be prettier than her, I needed to be funnier, smarter, more talented, and most of all, I needed to be more desirable in the eyes of my male counterparts. Before I knew it, we were best friends and enemies, simultaneously.
When one thinks of a best friend, commonly, the first thought is riddled with laughter and support. Those qualities had been stripped from our friendship. We were always competing with each other; it never stopped. Her accomplishments and beauty became damaging to my own self-image. We longed to be happy for each other’s success, but we simply could not because we were conditioned to believe that our worth lay in the hands of each other’s demise.
I studied the way she looked, the way she spoke, and what she ate. Our conversations consisted of “You’re so lucky, you’re so skinny” and “Shut up, I would die to look like you.” We no longer knew how to have a good time together, we only knew how to compare. I would examine her features, analyzing which ones were better than mine and which ones weren’t. I became obsessed with her flat stomach, toned legs, long eyelashes, and her brown silky hair. When I looked at her, I felt worse about myself. I began to mimic her eating habits and workout schedule, and she would do the same with mine, pushing each other with competition, always trying to one-up the other. It was not long before we began to inspire each other to eat less and less.
My infatuation with competition went beyond my relationship with her. I faced extreme envy whenever I opened my phone. As soon as I would click on Instagram or Tiktok, I was swarmed with millions of beautiful women who were skinnier, prettier, and more desired than I was. There was no escaping my insecurities. It drove me to an unhealthy lifestyle.
(Image of Super Models, The Kardashians, in Victoria’s Secret Wear)
I became determined to lose weight. I tried out new diets, and by diets, I mean eating a singular Cliff bar a day. I scoured the internet for workout routines titled “slim waist in less than two weeks!,” and “how I got a flat stomach in 10 days!” I would become nauseated and light-headed as I followed these strenuous workout routines, but I was too determined to quit. I started to lose weight, but along with the weight went my energy, athletic ability, and academic drive. My grades began to slip because I couldn’t stay focused in class over the rumbling of my stomach. I would fall asleep during lessons and fail to retain any information.
One of the most important things in my life, soccer, became impossible. I couldn’t run without feeling like I was going to black out. I became slower and weaker than the rest of my opponents. It wasn’t long before standing up too quickly was enough to blur my vision and make me dizzy for a short while. Sometimes, I even felt like laughing consumed enough energy to tire me out. My life had become exhausting. Every thought clouding my brain revolved around what I would allow myself to eat and new ways to prevent myself from eating. I discovered that sleeping extra late on weekends meant that I would be hungry for a shorter period of time, making it easier for me to skip eating altogether.
But I fantasized about the things I wanted to eat, even though I knew I wouldn’t let myself do it. Occasionally I would slip up, but the guilt would kick in before I could even finish my food. I searched for strategies to combat my guilt, and the one I stumbled across was frightening.
My family started noticing my daily routine of going to the bathroom after our family dinner, my change in eating habits, my personality shift, and my weight loss. I tried to convince them that I was okay. On November 16, 2020, my mom barged in during my post-dinner bathroom break. I will never forget the look on her face when she found me draped over the toilet. She cried about how I was “killing my body” and stripping myself of fertility, but somehow I didn’t care. Being skinny mattered more to me than being healthy.
Soon after, I was dragged to the doctor, and before I knew it, I had a “team” that would track my eating, my weight, and my mood. I will never forget the words the doctor said to me: “if you continue this way, in 15 years, you will never be able to forgive your younger self for the irreparable damage you caused your body.”
Terror flooded my body as if I was suddenly drowning. I felt immense guilt for the so-called damage I was causing my body, but more so because I had no plan to stop. This lecture felt never-ending, and the more the doctor continued, the more belittled and defeated I felt. But most of all, I felt alone. I didn’t mean for this to happen, but my insecurities had become too powerful.
It wasn’t until recently that I realized I was never alone in this struggle. There are more people than I’d like to admit that have fallen into the same trap that I had. Even feminist legend, Gloria Steinem, admitted to deeply struggling with insecurities. In a documentary that we watched in my high school feminism class, Steinem claims that “she was insecure. She didn’t feel pretty, though she was “the pretty one” in the feminist movement,” and “she is not and never has been perfect.” Even at 50 years old, Steinem battled with her body image. After decades of feminist work, Steinem still struggled to feel confident in her appearance. Women are under immense levels of pressure to please the male gaze. It is ingrained in our minds that we have to be skinny, pretty, quiet, and nurturing. These expectations destroy millions of young girls’ views of themselves, just like they did mine.
I have developed a healthier relationship with food, but many of these habits and guilt still haunt me today. My obsession with obtaining the “perfect body” in the eyes of boys killed my happiness and health. This was one of the ways I have stripped myself of the erotic in my life.
Audre Lorde discusses the erotic in her book Sister Outsider. The erotic is a feeling of genuine fulfillment and pleasure that can be found in anything that brings you joy. It is a “resource within each of us that lies in a deeply female and spiritual plane, firmly rooted in the power of our unexpressed or unrecognized feeling. In order to perpetuate itself, every oppression must corrupt or distort those various sources of power within the culture of the oppressed that can provide energy for change.”
The erotic is unencumbered by capitalism, sexism, and political party restrictions. However, there is a false belief that only by suppressing the erotic in our lives can women be truly strong. As women, “we have come to distrust that power which rises from our deepest and nonrational knowledge. We have been warned against it all our lives by the male world, which values this depth of feeling enough to keep women around in order to exercise it in the service of men, but which fears this same depth too much to examine the possibilities of it within themselves.” Women have been taught to “distrust” themselves and instead be led astray by systems of power. Men keep us around to be housewives and mothers, but never more than that. They value our charisma and talent, but strive to keep us in a box out of fear of being surpassed. Femininity is valued only when it benefits the patriarchy. The lack of value is essential to maintain the power structure, keeping women at the bottom.
(Image of Radical Feminist, Activist, and Author, Audre Lorde)
For me, the erotic is the place where I can fully will myself, commit myself despite dangers, and awaken to my own enjoyment. After taking Ileana Jiménez’s Feminist Theory and Literature class in my junior year of high school, I decided that it was time to reclaim the erotic in my life. I made a promise to myself to only engage in athletic competition rather than competing against other women’s appearances. This promise includes fueling my body properly to accomplish my athletic dreams. My experiences of self-harm are not unique, but rather, a result of long-standing systems of power. I encourage other women to reclaim the erotic. Unity threatens patriarchal authority. It is time to put up our fight.