onceafatgirl

Peace is better than chocolate

Archive for the tag “racism”

04 May 2025

Impact. Not intention.

I made a joke on social media this week that landed so badly. I meant it to be a word joke. But if I had rubbed two brain cells together I would have realized it could be taken as racist. So I made a racist joke. (FUCK!) And I was even slow on the uptake and when someone said “that’s not funny” I thought they meant my pun! (FUCKING FUCK!!!)

I am obviously rightly, deeply humbled and ashamed. I harmed a parasocial relationship I enjoyed with a woman I like and respect as well as harming a group of people.

I considered not writing about it this week. Not bringing other people’s attention to it. It’s embarrassing and emotional. I had to ask myself if I meant it subconsciously, which was terrifying. (I do not believe it was a subconscious thing. I do believe it was a true accident.) And yes I hate the idea of looking like a terrible person. But I did a thing. It’s out in the world. Even if I wish I could take it back.

It’s not a thing I can take back. It had an awful and ugly impact. Intentions pave the road to hell. Of course I deleted and apologized. And I sent a private message apologizing and offering amends. But the harm is done. And I am the only responsible party.

But this is my blog about me. And for a moment I want to separate what I did to her, from me, and my own personal growth in the face of this. Because there is something else that is deeper in there for me, about me accidentally hurting people and how it has haunted me in my life. And when I was talking to my best friend about this particular incident, what I did and how I was ashamed, I started talking about some of the times in my life that I accidentally harmed people and when I got to when I was 5 and I laughed when a girl fell but she hurt herself, I started to hyperventilate cry, the way I would when I was 5 years old.

Also, just to be clear, this list of my harms does not include any other racisms. This is not a regular occurrence for me. It’s things like when I was 10 and I accidentally sat on a classmate and I sprained his ankle, or the time I was 30 and said *in front of my friend’s boyfriend* that a different guy we knew should be her new boyfriend. This coming to terms with the unintentional harm I do and trying to mend it is apparently a long time coming for me. A lesson about myself. 

But in the end for this specific incident, it’s still impact not intention.

I am clear that I am not the victim. I am the perpetrator. I harmed another person. It doesn’t matter that it was not on purpose. It doesn’t matter that it was on the internet. It does not matter that I did not mean it. I was absolutely unsafe for another person.

I have also been in physical pain on and off over it. The humiliation and shame. A loop of dread. And the question of what to do to get complete with having done harm and knowing I do not want to do it again. But being afraid that I will do it again. I can’t pretend it doesn’t matter. This is not an “it’s in the past” so I should let it go kind of situation. Because I am clearly haunted right now.

I talked to my best friend about it. Because she has her eating under control. And because she is not going to tell me that it’s ok because I didn’t mean it.

She is going to tell me that it’s my responsibility to clean my side of the street.

I hope sincerely that the woman I harmed does not give a flying fuck about me. I hope I am barely a blip on her radar. And while I would be honored to make amends, she has not requested that. So I am leaving her alone and fixing my own shit for myself with my own spiritual community. The people who will not try to tell me that it’s all fine. The people who help me be responsible, accountable, a person with integrity.

So I need to come up with an action to take for me. An amends I can make to somehow mend the break I made in my own world. Because again, it’s about impact. Not intention. And I also hurt myself by harming her. So I need to get myself right with me!

Like my best friend told me: You don’t get to let yourself off the hook but you do have to figure out your way past it.

I never had to “watch my mouth” as a white woman growing up. And it is a *good thing* that I do have to watch it now. It’s not a punishment. It is an opportunity. It’s a gift. It’s a boundary. And I love boundaries. They changed my life! They saved my life. So yes. I need to be ever more careful with my words and my actions. And yes of course I already should have.

I don’t want to hurt people or harm people. I don’t take that lightly. And having to be accountable for literally everything that comes from me is just life. It’s the natural order of things. I was thoughtless and it was a cruelty. Period.

I am going to think more about what actions to take next to get my self complete. I’m also going to watch my mouth. I’m going to remember that wanting to be a safe person and being a safe person are not the same thing. But I am also going to take whatever actions I can to truly be a safe person.

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31 May 2020
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This One Is About Racism.

It’s so hard to know what to write in a blog about food addiction and eating disorders when both the world in general, and your country specifically are in turmoil.


One thing that happened to me when I got my eating under control was that my head cleared. Partially because I was not high on sugar anymore. And partially because I stopped lying.


They say you can’t kid a kidder, but I think that is wrong. When I was lying, I was easy to lie to. Because you have to put yourself in a particular head space to be a liar. You have to muddy the waters for yourself if you are going to convince everyone else. So lying made it hard for me to see clearly.


In order to stop eating compulsively, I had to stop lying about my food. And in order to keep not lying about my food, I had to take lying off the table. It’s like the saying “How you do anything is how you do everything.” I had to be truthful in all ways to continue to be truthful about my eating.


So I have a clear head and a clear conscience. And that means I see things, all sorts of things, clearly now. And I can tell you that I see the race problem we have in the U.S. And I can see the police problem we have in the U.S. And I can see that police all over this country kill Black people without ever facing justice. Kneel on their necks until they are dead, or bust into the wrong house and shoot first, killing them in their beds or while they watch TV. And white people hiding behind the idea of “law and order” brazenly and lawlessly kill Black people.


I can see that our government has armed and armored the police to go to war with the civilian population of our country. But they can’t seem to be able to provide PPE for doctors, nurses and medical professionals in the midst of a global pandemic.


I can’t not see these things. There is no cake to numb me anymore. I am not trying to get anything over on anyone. I can’t not feel the fear and the sadness and the terror. And I can’t help but notice how many people in my life are quick to defend the actions of police and condemn the actions of Black people who are angry and scared and who have been assaulted and murdered without ever getting justice. For generations.


I was 15 when the police who beat Rodney King were acquitted. I am 42 now. I was a sheltered white girl at the time. I assumed there were things we didn’t understand. I believed that police would not do such a thing without good reason. I believed that police were doing their best in a dangerous job. I have have now had 27 years of experience. And after almost 3 decades, I no longer feel that way.


How is this about eating disorders and sugar addiction? See, when I was eating compulsively and using sugar as a drug, I could escape any yucky feeling. I could pretend the electric bill didn’t exist, until the electricity got shut off. I could pretend the deadline for the writing assignment I got for the online magazine didn’t exist. Until eventually it didn’t. And these were things that affected me directly in very real ways. I could eat a cake and pretend that it didn’t exist. And I would not have to feel…anything.


So I most certainly didn’t have to feel the pain of living in a society that prioritizes white property over Black lives. And if I did feel it, I could slip comfortably into the idea of “Why didn’t they comply? They should have just complied.” “Cops are doing a dangerous job and we have to give them some room for error.” “I understand that people are upset but violence never solved anything.”


But I feel everything now. I live it and I experience it and I can’t escape my feelings anymore. And I can’t pretend it doesn’t exist. And I can’t pretend like those things I used to make me feel better, both the cake and the bullshit justifications, exist for me anymore.
One thing about the way I live now is that I have to be responsible for “cleaning my own side of the street.” So right now, the dirtiest part of my street is that I don’t say it enough. Black lives matter. Police brutality is a problem all over this country, in every state and on every level. Peaceful protests have not worked.


Stop killing Black people. Stop defending the killing of Black people. Stop making excuses for the killers of Black people.

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