Suzannah Weiss

Best of all? She's just getting started.

“Don’t make yourself feel good by calling us survivors.”

When I was first diagnosed with anorexia ten years ago, I vaguely knew that eating disorders were a feminist issue.

Who knew the tech industry could do that.

Ever since I was a kid myself, I’ve held the conviction that I didn’t want kids. I found baby dolls creepy and real-life babies irritating. Whenever I told my parents this, they’d say, “You’ll change your mind.” But at age 25, I still haven’t.

One day, when you’re twice your age, you’ll write a letter to yourself with all the things no one taught you about your period

“Some of the smartest thinkers . . . are university professors, but most of them just don’t matter in today’s great debates”—or do they?

I have pressured people into sex. I have had partners say they weren’t in the mood and tried to change their minds. I have sulked when they didn’t. And I did this for years without realizing it was wrong. Why? Because I’m a straight woman.

When people picture an eating disorder, they often imagine shocking behaviors that deviate wildly from normal eating. But our society’s definition of “normal,” especially for women, can look so similar to an eating disorder that it’s hard to tell when you’ve crossed the line between healthy and disordered eating. That's why, by following popular health advice, I became anorexic without even knowing it.

When the police arrested Wendy Barnes's pimp, it appeared as if she were free at last, she recalls during our phone interview. “Maybe this nightmare ends,” she thought. But that's when they handcuffed her, brought her to the station, and charged her with the exact same crime: prostitution.