Suzannah Weiss

Those who know and love people with depression usually want nothing other than to help. But during the times I've been depressed, even the most well-intentioned efforts to help often backfired.

Talking about sex may make you uncomfortable, but so would having children who grow up in ignorance and fear.

I’ve never been able to embrace the life of no regrets. Regrets are stubborn seeds that plant themselves in my mind, refusing to leave until something grows from them. I water them by reliving my past until I figure out what I would do differently if I could go back. Eventually, I do go back, even if the situation is slightly different.

When speaking with eating disorder victims, what not to say is as important as what to say.

I was six the first time I remember sucking in my stomach.

On the interview room’s cozy couch, Ellie (AKA Elliphant) sounded off on the absurdity of American gender roles, how humans are like giraffes, and her past life as a dude resembling Mowgli from The Jungle Book. No, really.

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.

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

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