Turning the Fight from My Social Media Feed to Myself: My Year Following “Fighting Back against the Exclusionary Social Media Feed”

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A year ago today, I was unaware my debut article was about to be published. I was falsely under the impression that I had a few more days to obsess over the words I wrote and prepare for the onslaught of emotions that comes with being vulnerable online. I was riddled with fear, but a glimmer of hope poked through as I shared the link to “Fighting Back Against The Exclusionary Social Media Feed” (“Fighting Back”) onto my Instagram. Kind sentiments poured in from friends and strangers alike who either related to my struggle or found themselves newly aware of the ways media can be damaging to fat bodies. Now, a year later, I find myself looking back upon this moment with the distinct clarity that only hindsight can give. 

At twenty-one years old, I wrote “Fighting Back” as a resolute. I truly believed that through accomplishing my goal of diversifying my feed, I would find peace within who I am as a person, once I saw myself represented in popular media. For a little while, this was true. What I neglected to realize was that I needed to genuinely find myself to support the sentiments I wrote in “Fighting Back.” I could say those words all I wanted, but if I didn’t believe them without a shadow of a doubt, they were meaningless in my journey to self-love and acceptance.

The year of my life since “Fighting Back’s” publication has been fraught with unexpected decisions and life-changing new experiences. Directly after the article was written, I spent the rest of 2021 finishing my Public Affairs degree at Ohio State but realized that I had no desire to go into politics as I had originally planned. I started dancing in a performance ensemble again, one of my deepest passions in life, only to hurt both knees and end up sitting out for most of the competitive season. I cut off almost all of my hair. I started a full-time job, left it after two days, applied to dozens of new positions, and then landed my current full-time position in a field I had never even remotely considered for myself.

I specifically struggled within my writing after writing the article. I begged myself to finish another article for the activism team here at Unpublished, emailing countless apologies and extension requests over six months. I finally completed one more activism article in February, which ironically discussed burnout, and then shifted my focus towards the music team here at Unpublished. 

While I should have been proud of myself for following my heart in switching to music writing, I couldn’t help but feel the same way I had felt about my body while writing “Fighting Back” many months prior. I felt lost. I felt incorrect. I felt empty. My writing had never flowed so easily and with such passion, yet I couldn’t help but feel like a fraud who was occupying a space that was not meant for me.

Each day of my life, I live believing that I know everything there is to know. It’s not wrong, per se, given that with each passing minute, I am technically a little bit older and a little bit wiser than I was previously. Looking back now upon my debut of “Fighting Back Against The Exclusionary Social Media Feed” and then my subsequent departure into music journalism, it is interesting the lack of difference I see within my knowledge. I see the exact same scared iteration of myself who believed they were taking up too much space, demanding too much energy, and chasing unrealistic goals. I may be a few months older in the later scenario, but the lesson had still not been learned. I was, and frankly still am, terrified of the perception others have of the space my body, my mind, and my goals occupy.

Whereas a year ago I believed I had removed my thinking from the narrative of internal and media-based shaming, I now think I have simply changed the narrative from the inside. I will forever have days when I feel out of place. No matter the shape of my body, the number of followers I have on social media, or the accolades I receive for my writing, there will always be a part of my brain telling me that I am not good enough. A year ago I had been fighting to extract this thought from my brain entirely, meanwhile, I am now trying to learn to live with it.

Granting myself the grace to have bad days is something I still couldn’t accept a year ago. I felt an impossible pressure to know what was coming next at all times, to be acutely composed so no one could question if I knew what I was doing. I would sooner wear a facade of indifference than allow others to witness the way I was crumbling internally. Now, I am finally allowing myself to recognize when I need a break to recharge and process my emotions, so long as I keep myself grounded in the understanding that the low moments will pass. I work to engage with the part of my brain that demands my sorrow, but instead of joining a boxing match of wills, I sit with it and ask why I feel unworthy. I strip back the armor of loathing and look for the tender layer of hurt that has been inflicted upon me, bandaging the wound with as much comfort and understanding as I can conjure.

I have never been the type of person who likes to sit still. In my current day-to-day life, I now write for three magazines, work full-time, and teach a high school color guard. I also just recently performed in a long-term dance project through a local dance company and studio (special shoutout to the Flux + Flow dance community in Columbus, Ohio, I wouldn’t be so comfortable with myself if it wasn’t for you). Any of my friends will tell you that I am eternally hard to make plans with yet continually add more to my plate. To be brutally honest, I think the need to be constantly busy is a coping mechanism so I don’t have to sit down and unpack the ways life has affected me, but maybe we can look to work through that a year from now. Either way, my new mission of processing my internal grief through rest has granted me the understanding I thought I had already gained when “Fighting Back” was originally published. 

Now twenty-two, I’d like to think that I realize that I cannot find acceptance of self through the screen. Don’t get me wrong, “Fighting Back Against The Exclusionary Social Media Feed” is still one of my absolute favorite articles that I have written. I am vehemently proud of the work that I did to share my opinions on the body positivity movement, the creators I love, and the way I view myself in the media. I still firmly stand by everything I wrote a year ago, I just am now finally starting to believe it, and in myself, as well. Continuing that sentiment, I am so proud of myself for taking the leap and switching to music journalism. I have found such joy in my writing over the last four months, resulting in over fifty reviews and interviews published across the three magazines I currently am on staff for. I hope to continue this passion for as long as I still find joy within it, and maybe one day I'll find a way to make it a career.

My most important discovery in the past year is that I am finally beginning to understand that nothing I say or believe is a final resolution. With each moment, I am growing into a new version of myself previously unseen. I will continually evolve, and with that, so will my mind, my body, and my writing. Nothing is definitive, and while the lack of certainty used to terrify me, it's now what brings me peace. This is certainly not the life I had planned for myself when dreaming of the future this time last year. I did not expect to be where I am today and the passions I now hold, but through acceptance of change, no matter how reluctant I may have been at the time, I am now happier than I have ever been. I am finding a home within myself that I truly believed I already resided in a year ago today, and I am opening new doors to experiences beyond my wildest dreams.

I don’t know what my life will look like in the forthcoming year. I don’t know who I will be and what I will accomplish. Maybe at twenty-three I’ll look back with clarity on the naivete of this article and laugh at my current self’s unawareness of the journey ahead. Right now, however, I am certain of one thing: I followed my heart and took care of myself for the first time, and I subsequently fell in love with myself again.