Suzannah Weiss

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

Women — and everyone, for that matter — I invite you to join me in a new game. Instead of stooping down to sympathize when someone strays from societal body ideals, and instead of bringing others down with us when we're struggling with body image ourselves, let's all lift one another up by declaring that there's nothing wrong with what we've just eaten, how we look in a bathing suit, or what size pants we’re wearing.

I won't lie: When it comes to my appearance, I'm not my own biggest fan. Others may disagree, but catching a glimpse of myself in my mirrored closet doors is not a pleasant experience.

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

The more conversations I have with fellow millennials, the more I realize we’re all going through similar growing pains. Professionally, we’re often struggling either to find our niche or to advance in the careers we’ve settled on. Socially, our friendships are in flux, with people constantly moving around and revising their values. And romantically, many of us still have nothing to report while we watch one friend after another pair up.

"Hey, you're a feminist. What do you think of that?" If we feminists got a dollar every time someone at a party asked us this question, we just might close the wage gap.

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.

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

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.