Men Have Eating Disorders, Too
Approximately 50% of people suffering with a binge eating disorder, and 25% of people suffering with anorexia or bulimia are male. Yet cultural stigma, as well as under-diagnosis, means these actual percentages are likely much higher. So why are we still being told that eating disorders are just female illnesses — and why is this misconception so very problematic?
Connor Spratt shares his experience from his own eating disorder and discusses why lack of male representation has a devastating effect on recovery.
I was on one of my regular daily runs on a cold, October morning. It was a morning much like any other morning, indistinguishable to the passer-by. Yet this morning was different for me. This run was different for me.
They say that regular running will improve your cardiovascular fitness and reduce your blood pressure. They say it can boost your immune system and help with relaxation. But that’s not why I was running. That was never why I was running.
I was running to deplete what little fuel I had in my body. I was running to brace myself for another day of regimented food restriction. I was running to prepare myself for later that night: when I would binge food, uncontrollably.
Yet on this particular cold, October morning I could not go on. I realised I could not run anymore. This was the morning I had my breakdown.
I never realised what was wrong with how I was living. I had vague notions of what an eating disorder was, but I didn’t believe this label applied to me. Why? Well, because I identify as a man.
Before carrying on reading this piece, I want you to do me a favour. Take out your phone, open up Instagram and search the following hashtags: #eatingdisorders #eatingdisorderawareness #bodypositivity. You may notice there is one recurring theme: very few men are sharing their experiences.
Unbeknownst to me at the time of my breakdown, I was suffering heavily with Bulimia. Truth be told, I had been for a long while, yet I did not have the correct viewpoint to accurately label what I was experiencing. Yet after speaking to some close friends, I went to a doctor to try to muster any kind of understanding of the experience I was having. I knew what was happening to me was not normal, however I had developed such a complex relationship with my habits that I couldn’t see a way of life beyond my eating disorder. I could not picture a life without calorie counting. I could not imagine not knowing what my weight was every second of the day. A night without uncontrollable binges? No way! Whatever you say, that’s not going to happen. My weight always had to be lower. No matter what it was, it was still too much. It was torture — although I accepted it as my way of life.
After some tests, my doctor told me that he believed I had an eating disorder. Although I studied Psychology, I knew very little about what these actually were and my initial view of these ‘eating disorders’ was one filled with stereotypes. In my head, they were something that happened to pretty white women who had looked at too many magazines. This viewpoint was so utterly wrong and ultimately very damaging for myself and others who experience these debilitating issues. At first, however, it was incredibly hard for me to see otherwise.
Estimates of how many men are suffering with an eating disorder are shaky at best — however BEAT, the leading eating disorder charity in the UK, estimates that one quarter of those suffering are male. One in four. So where are these men? Why are we not seeing or hearing more of their stories? Why are we not seeing these men speaking out?
As I started on my recovery I searched social media for experiences of these so-called ‘eating disorders’, whatever they were. I found there were many people who openly shared their story, however I also found that I could not entirely relate to them. Why? Well, because they were all female.
Now don’t get me wrong, every person who shares their story is providing an invaluable lesson to the wider community — yet the lack of males representation is problematic in two very big ways. Firstly, lack of male representation solidifies the already prevalent and misinformed belief that eating disorders only affect females. In fact, research into eating disorders almost solely focuses on the female experience, and thus for a man like me — a 22-year-old English guy — this lack of representation further established my already misguided beliefs, which consequently had a devastating effect on my recovery.
In only hearing about the female experience, I felt entirely invalid in my struggle. I cannot have an eating disorder, I would think. Men clearly do not experience those. Just look at Instagram! Yet when I did finally accept that I was suffering with an eating disorder, I felt like less of a man. After all, I was suffering from a weak, ‘girly’ illness, which prevented me from openly talking about it with my peers. Thankfully I made it through this misconception from the help of my therapist, friends and family. Yet this is not the case for many men out there, who are suffering in silence.
If a man is out there looking for some sort of validation that other men suffer from this ‘female only’ problem, they will seldom find it. Sure, representation is purposefully and gradually getting better, however it is happening far too slowly — and this lack of validity will likely send these men down a path that is hard to imagine, a path that could be avoided through more representation.
The second reason (amongst many, many more) that a lack of males representation is so problematic, is that this deficit means we cannot learn more about the male experience of an eating disorder. Poor body image — both a result of and a risk factor to eating disorders — have been found to make 1 in 10 men feel suicidal. In fact, a 2018 Guardian article highlighted that nearly a million men in the UK were using steroids in order to ‘look better’.
So why do not hear from men in how they come about developing poorer body image? Is it toxic masculinity emphasising the need to ‘bulk up’? An issue that is affecting boys as young as six years old. Or could it be the fact that male action figure toys, marketed to young boys, have grown to be more muscular over the years? Whatever the reasons are — which will be endless — we do not even begin to learn as there is nobody teaching us. As the classic saying goes, experience is the best teacher. Yet what if nobody is there to share that experience? One in four men are out there suffering — yet without any real representation, we are not learning about how or why this is happening.
If we do not hear more from male voices, how can we expect to stop our friends, brothers, fathers, sons, teammates and so on, from falling into the potentially deadly traps of an eating disorder? More men need to come forward, yet more than this, more space need to be given to allow them to do so. This is especially true for men of colour, as experiences of eating disorders in Black, Asian and Minority Ethnic (BAME) communities are also incredibly underrepresented.
If you’re a guy out there who is suffering, I hear you. I felt it too. It does get better, even if it doesn’t feel so right now. Please do me one thing — reach out. It can be scary and daunting, yet you are doing it for your future self. You will look back in joy, even if you can’t see a future where that person exists right now.
You are valid. You are worthy. Reach out.
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