Reclaiming the Black Body: Nourishing the Home Within by Alishia McCullough
I want to give a
big thank you to Random House Publishing, Dial Press, and NetGalley for
providing me with an advanced copy of Alishia McCullough’s important and
provocative call for healing the relationship that Black women and femmes have
with their bodies in her book Reclaiming the Black Body: Nourishing the Home Within. I was a little surprised that I received a personal invitation to
review this book. As a Cisgender white male, it seemed like this book’s
audience was a different demographic. However, after reading the book, I am so
grateful that Dial Press and Random House sent the book my way. Even though the
book was mostly focused on the health, mental wellbeing, and self-care
practices of Black women and femmes, there was much I could relate to, and I can
see how McCullough’s purpose in reclaiming the Black body has a direct connection
to other authors and texts in the African American literary cannon.
McCullough starts
her book with an important argument by noting that in her work as a therapist primarily
focused on food imbalances (or what is clinically often referred to as eating
disorders), most of the research and therapies were designed with white, female
populations, probably from socio-economic status where they had access to
treatments, facilities, and therapists. She also notes the continued trauma
that Black people, especially Black women (and femmes) have undergone
throughout history. As I was reading the introduction and first chapter, I
couldn’t help but think of the scene in Toni Morrison’s Beloved where Baby Suggs, the main character’s mother-in-law, encourages a congregation
of formerly enslaved people to love themselves, to love every part of their
body. Baby Suggs goes on to identify each body part, encouraging the congregation
to engage in this loving act of self-care and nourishment, not only as
individuals, but also as a community who has been fragmented and separated. Nearly
30 years after Morrison’s book, Ta-Neihisi Coates also wrote about his fears of
losing his body, and his son’s body, to the violence of systemic and racial
discrimination. I remember reading that section shortly after my son turned one
and both empathizing with Coates but also being aware of my privilege that I would
never experience that kind of threat of loss. McCullough’s book also helped me
better understand the kinds of threats, violence, and trauma that Black women
experience, especially in a society that is increasingly “health conscious”,
but also dominated by images, ads, and products mostly marketed towards a white
idea of health. In fact, McCullough’s arguments and calls to reclaim Black
bodies reminded me both of Baby Suggs’ loving call for a community to piece
itself together after the trauma of slavery, and of Coates’ anger, fear, and
frustration at witnessing the deaths of Eric Garner, Michael Brown, Tamir Rice,
Renisha McBride, and John Crawford. McCullough also shares other people of
color who have been murdered by individuals and police to strengthen her
argument about both the need for increased health and the threat to health that
Black Americans routinely face.
Beyond this kind of
violence, McCullough presents other ways that Black health has been limited or
attacked, whether it is bias in the medical profession or by bias against foods.
Reading more about these biases was an eye opening experience, supported not
only with clinical examples from McCullough’s practice, but also from her own
experiences. I really appreciated her bravery and candor in exploring her own experiences—the
comments and assumptions from friends and family, the questions and boundary
pushing from colleagues and co-workers—the one incident that McCullough experienced
after removing braids was so shocking. However, she aptly uses these
experiences to provide real world examples of the kinds of barriers, biases,
and aggressions that Black women face on a daily basis. Furthermore, I feel
like this book challenges many assumptions about Black Americans, especially Black
women. I remember learning more about relational aggression in grad school, and
how there was like no research on relational aggression with Black adolescent
girls. The research claimed that Black girls didn’t engage in this kind of relational
aggression, and that they tended to have higher self-esteem due to positive
body images. And while McCullough discusses some of the body positivity
movements that have largely been supported by Black women, her research and
work shows that Black women are also impacted by eating imbalances, concerns
about their bodies, and other threats that are complicated by their
intersectionality as both Black and women, and possibly members of other identities.
In addition to
presenting the issues related to the lack of research and eating imbalances
that Black women face, McCullough has also developed guided practices and
reflective questions at the ends of each chapters, so the book focuses more
like a workbook that supports continued growth and development to learn habits
that will help restore individuals. I can see myself coming back to many of
these guided practices, which seemed both soothing and confrontational—in a
good way—challenging readers to look closely at the roots of some of their
imbalances. The reflective questions were also really useful to dig deeper and
exploring our relationships to our eating, the foods we choose, and our bodies,
among other things. As a white reader of this book, it was also important for
me to learn more about the kinds of racism, biases, and implicit assumptions
that Black Americans face. Furthermore, as a father of a daughter who is in a
big body and someone who has struggled with his own weight issues when I was
younger, I can appreciate McCullough’s focus on the kinds of experiences early
on that often shape our ideas about our bodies in adolescence and beyond. It
was surprising to hear some women express a desire to grow bigger to avoid
attention, while other women wished to become invisible for the same reasons. I’ve
always tried to be sensitive to my daughter’s weight, but it is really hard to
shield her from the onslaught of images and ideals that are presented in
society on a daily basis. In fact, a recent experience at a dance class, where
she had to have a dance outfit specially ordered because she is larger than the
other girls in the class, made me think more about this book and how so much of
society and culture is made for a norm that is not really dominant in society.
People are just expected to conform and not really challenge the ways things
are; however, McCullough’s book reminded me that we need to fight continually
for fair and equal treatment and access to better foods, therapies, and materials
for all. I also wanted to mention that McCullough’s book reminded me of another
book I read recently about restoring practices to restore health The Seven Circles: Indigenous Teachings for Living Well by Chelsey Luger and Thosh
Collins. In this book, Luger and Collins advocate for a return to more
traditional ways for better health and a connection to the earth. McCullough
also makes her case about returning to more traditional ways which allows us to
integrate more with the earth and nature. That was just another beautiful
element about this powerful book that makes it compelling and necessary to read.
I hope that McCullough continues to work with others, but also creates more books,
workshops, and resources to support people to regain balance and restore their
wholeness once again.
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