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It's Always Been Ours: Rewriting the Story of Black Women’s Bodies
WE WILL REWRITE THE NARARTIVE OF BLACKNESS THAT CENTERS AND CELEBRATES OUR JOY.
In It’s Always Been Ours eating disorder specialist and storyteller Jessica Wilson challenges us to rethink what having a "good" body means in contemporary society. By centering the bodies of Black women in her cultural discussions of body image, food, health, and wellness, Wilson argues that we can interrogate white supremacy’s hold on us and reimagine the ways we think about, discuss, and tend to our bodies.
A narrative that spans the year of racial reckoning (that wasn't), It’s Always Been Ours is an incisive blend of historical documents, contemporary writing, and narratives of clients, friends, and celebrities that examines the politics of body liberation. Wilson argues that our culture’s fixation on thin, white women reinscribes racist ideas about Black women's bodies and ways of being in the world as "too much." For Wilson, this white supremacist, capitalist undergirding in wellness movements perpetuates a culture of respectability and restriction that force Black women to perform unhealthy forms of resilience and strength at the expense of their physical and psychological needs.
With just the right mix of wit, levity, and wisdom, Wilson shows us how a radical reimagining of body narratives is a prerequisite to well-being. It’s Always Been Ours is a love letter that celebrates Black women’s bodies and shows us a radical and essential path forward to rediscovering their vulnerability and joy.
In It’s Always Been Ours eating disorder specialist and storyteller Jessica Wilson challenges us to rethink what having a "good" body means in contemporary society. By centering the bodies of Black women in her cultural discussions of body image, food, health, and wellness, Wilson argues that we can interrogate white supremacy’s hold on us and reimagine the ways we think about, discuss, and tend to our bodies.
A narrative that spans the year of racial reckoning (that wasn't), It’s Always Been Ours is an incisive blend of historical documents, contemporary writing, and narratives of clients, friends, and celebrities that examines the politics of body liberation. Wilson argues that our culture’s fixation on thin, white women reinscribes racist ideas about Black women's bodies and ways of being in the world as "too much." For Wilson, this white supremacist, capitalist undergirding in wellness movements perpetuates a culture of respectability and restriction that force Black women to perform unhealthy forms of resilience and strength at the expense of their physical and psychological needs.
With just the right mix of wit, levity, and wisdom, Wilson shows us how a radical reimagining of body narratives is a prerequisite to well-being. It’s Always Been Ours is a love letter that celebrates Black women’s bodies and shows us a radical and essential path forward to rediscovering their vulnerability and joy.
288 pages, Hardcover
First published February 7, 2023
24 people are currently reading
2073 people want to read
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 51 reviews
July 7, 2023
A must read for all the white lady RDs out there. It made me think and I’m already looking at social media differently!
July 26, 2023
Bodies are complicated. In addition to the indignity of merely having one, the way it constantly needs maintenance and has such a limited warranty, bodies are one of the primary ways we interact with our world. And our world is racist. It’s Always Been Ours: Rewriting the Story of Black Women’s Bodies is Jessica Wilson’s attempt to sort through how anti-Black racism permeates diet culture and eating-disorder treatment when it comes to Black women. I found it super insightful and easy to read; Wilson is making a valuable contribution to what should be a much larger conversation. I received a copy of this book for free in exchange for a review.
First, my positionality in the conversation on body image, body liberation, and most importantly, race and racism. I’m a white woman, and I am tall and thin. I have the economic purchasing power to ensure I can buy the Healthy foods and products we’re supposed to buy, and I have the privilege of looking such that when I choose to buy junk food, people don’t roll their eyes or mutter under their breath as I do so. My upbringing, education, and access to opportunities and healthcare—none of these things have been adversely impacted by racism; if anything, I am the beneficiary of white supremacy in our society. My identity as a transgender woman complicates this story of privilege. As Wilson herself notes in this book, queer bodies also get policed. I have a complicated relationship with my body and how I am read (or not read) as conforming to feminine beauty standards. But mine is a white queer body, not a Black queer body; I don’t intend to equate my struggles with body image to the struggles faced by Black women and people of marginalized gender experiences.
As I hope I made clear in my introduction, I loved this book. However, I’m also not the best qualified to critique it—Wilson explicitly states in her introduction that this book is intended for Black women. So I just want to foreground the voices of some Black reviewers: Christina, Sarah, and Nariah on Goodreads. As I discuss my impressions of this book, keep in mind that my opinion and perspective aren’t as attuned to what Wilson is trying to accomplish as those of her target audience.
When I started reading It’s Always Been Ours, I was expecting a book that discussed medical anti-Black racism and threw lots of facts about Black women’s bodies at me. I thought we would get a lot of history of anti-fatness and wellness culture. Indeed, these elements run through the book. However, Wilson more explicitly and emphatically grounds her narrative in discussions of white supremacy and the need to dismantle it. In other words, this book is actually very aligned with a lot of the antiracist reading I’ve been doing, a perfect addition to that shelf, if you will.
Wilson is critical of any analysis of eating disorders and diet culture that acknowledges racism’s role in these issues as only one of many factors. She observes,
This hit me because I am absolutely guilty of minimizing racism in this way. Look, language is complicated. The terms we use to describe the struggle are always evolving. Sometimes—especially, I think, those of us who are more verbose—we trip ourselves up in our desire to be as expansive in our terms as we can be. When that happens, we actually end up erasing important differences (a good example of this is the tendency to lump together very disparate experiences under the umbrella label of “BIPOC”). So I appreciated Wilson’s adamant stance that we treat racism as baked in to diet culture. In other words, there should be no conversation about Black women’s bodies that does not explicitly centre the role of white supremacy in creating the standards for those bodies.
This thesis might seem obvious. Yet Wilson shares many stories from her experience as an eating-disorder specialist that belies this. Most of her patients come to her seeking quick fixes, reassurance, granular plans to adjust their eating habits to help them feel better about their bodies. They resist doing the work she asks them to do to dig deeper. Similarly, her colleagues (particularly her white colleagues) resist her attempt to discuss diet culture and eating disorders in this way. In other words, there is a deep, structural desire to maintain the status quo.
Although Wilson’s intimate narrative positions her as the brave rebel and maverick in this scenario, she undercuts self-aggrandizement by sharing examples of her own development along this axis. She critiques her performance in her first two years as a dietitian, recapitulating this at the end of the book by sharing how a longtime client of hers noted that, years ago, her advice would have been dramatically different. In this way, Wilson reminds us that no one comes to antiracism work already knowing all the answers. Doesn’t matter how you are racialized. We all internalize white supremacist ideals as we grow up, and it takes work to unlearn that (that is exactly what getting “woke” meant, after all, before the right decided to appropriate and distort the term). Wilson’s very personal and careful anecdotes of her experiences both as a practitioner and a Black woman are the heart of this book. To others in positions of power (and I count myself as one of these in my role as an educator), she is saying that every day is another opportunity for you to do better. To the Black women reading this book, she concludes on a note of celebrating Black joy. She wants Black women to know that their bodies—whatever their shape or size—are not a problem.
On that note, however, I was also happy to read such a deep and incisive critique of the body positivity/fat liberation movements. I have heard a little bit about this here and there, particularly how it intersects with Instagram. Basically, there is a fine line between advocating for a positive view of one’s body, especially when one is fat, versus enforcing a kind of toxic positivity that can backfire. Wilson draws on the experiences of activists in this space. While none of what she has to say in these chapters strikes me as particularly new, it’s all a very useful summary of these issues.
Again, I’m a very thin woman. I won’t pretend I don’t have body image issues or a complicated relationship with food. But I can generally find clothes that fit me, and people don’t look askance when I wolf down a cheeseburger. It’s Always Been Ours establishes how, for Black women of any size and shape, food is just another item on the list of mental gymnastics they complete each day. Hair too kinky? Eating too much or too little? Clothing too tight or too loose? When you add anti-Black racism on top of misogyny, you get misogynoir, as Moya Bailey coined, and it’s a hell of a thing.
Speaking of new vocabulary, this book introduced me to the term food apartheid. This term complements and builds on the idea of a food desert (which I was already aware of); as Wilson explains, it clarifies that such areas are not naturally occurring but rather deliberately constructed as a result of racism. Neat! (The learning, not the racism.)
It’s Always Been Ours is moving, well organized, funny, and helpful. This is a book about racism. Its language is more accessible than that of an academic press book, its stories more personal. But it is a book about how our society polices Black women and what Wilson thinks we should do about it (hint: resist). She challenges us to do better instead of simply going along with the narrative of the status quo because it is easier and lets us stay comfortable in the power we have. I’m glad I picked this one up!
Originally posted on Kara.Reviews, where you can easily browse all my reviews and subscribe to my newsletter.
First, my positionality in the conversation on body image, body liberation, and most importantly, race and racism. I’m a white woman, and I am tall and thin. I have the economic purchasing power to ensure I can buy the Healthy foods and products we’re supposed to buy, and I have the privilege of looking such that when I choose to buy junk food, people don’t roll their eyes or mutter under their breath as I do so. My upbringing, education, and access to opportunities and healthcare—none of these things have been adversely impacted by racism; if anything, I am the beneficiary of white supremacy in our society. My identity as a transgender woman complicates this story of privilege. As Wilson herself notes in this book, queer bodies also get policed. I have a complicated relationship with my body and how I am read (or not read) as conforming to feminine beauty standards. But mine is a white queer body, not a Black queer body; I don’t intend to equate my struggles with body image to the struggles faced by Black women and people of marginalized gender experiences.
As I hope I made clear in my introduction, I loved this book. However, I’m also not the best qualified to critique it—Wilson explicitly states in her introduction that this book is intended for Black women. So I just want to foreground the voices of some Black reviewers: Christina, Sarah, and Nariah on Goodreads. As I discuss my impressions of this book, keep in mind that my opinion and perspective aren’t as attuned to what Wilson is trying to accomplish as those of her target audience.
When I started reading It’s Always Been Ours, I was expecting a book that discussed medical anti-Black racism and threw lots of facts about Black women’s bodies at me. I thought we would get a lot of history of anti-fatness and wellness culture. Indeed, these elements run through the book. However, Wilson more explicitly and emphatically grounds her narrative in discussions of white supremacy and the need to dismantle it. In other words, this book is actually very aligned with a lot of the antiracist reading I’ve been doing, a perfect addition to that shelf, if you will.
Wilson is critical of any analysis of eating disorders and diet culture that acknowledges racism’s role in these issues as only one of many factors. She observes,
When we relegate racism to “the roots” of diet culture, we send the message that, sure, racism may have played a role in the development of the quest to shrink our bodies, but if we are able to dismantle diet culture, then racism will, by proxy, be destroyed as well. That’s not it. Diet culture is not the driving force behind the ways our bodies are under surveillance by society.
This hit me because I am absolutely guilty of minimizing racism in this way. Look, language is complicated. The terms we use to describe the struggle are always evolving. Sometimes—especially, I think, those of us who are more verbose—we trip ourselves up in our desire to be as expansive in our terms as we can be. When that happens, we actually end up erasing important differences (a good example of this is the tendency to lump together very disparate experiences under the umbrella label of “BIPOC”). So I appreciated Wilson’s adamant stance that we treat racism as baked in to diet culture. In other words, there should be no conversation about Black women’s bodies that does not explicitly centre the role of white supremacy in creating the standards for those bodies.
This thesis might seem obvious. Yet Wilson shares many stories from her experience as an eating-disorder specialist that belies this. Most of her patients come to her seeking quick fixes, reassurance, granular plans to adjust their eating habits to help them feel better about their bodies. They resist doing the work she asks them to do to dig deeper. Similarly, her colleagues (particularly her white colleagues) resist her attempt to discuss diet culture and eating disorders in this way. In other words, there is a deep, structural desire to maintain the status quo.
Although Wilson’s intimate narrative positions her as the brave rebel and maverick in this scenario, she undercuts self-aggrandizement by sharing examples of her own development along this axis. She critiques her performance in her first two years as a dietitian, recapitulating this at the end of the book by sharing how a longtime client of hers noted that, years ago, her advice would have been dramatically different. In this way, Wilson reminds us that no one comes to antiracism work already knowing all the answers. Doesn’t matter how you are racialized. We all internalize white supremacist ideals as we grow up, and it takes work to unlearn that (that is exactly what getting “woke” meant, after all, before the right decided to appropriate and distort the term). Wilson’s very personal and careful anecdotes of her experiences both as a practitioner and a Black woman are the heart of this book. To others in positions of power (and I count myself as one of these in my role as an educator), she is saying that every day is another opportunity for you to do better. To the Black women reading this book, she concludes on a note of celebrating Black joy. She wants Black women to know that their bodies—whatever their shape or size—are not a problem.
On that note, however, I was also happy to read such a deep and incisive critique of the body positivity/fat liberation movements. I have heard a little bit about this here and there, particularly how it intersects with Instagram. Basically, there is a fine line between advocating for a positive view of one’s body, especially when one is fat, versus enforcing a kind of toxic positivity that can backfire. Wilson draws on the experiences of activists in this space. While none of what she has to say in these chapters strikes me as particularly new, it’s all a very useful summary of these issues.
Again, I’m a very thin woman. I won’t pretend I don’t have body image issues or a complicated relationship with food. But I can generally find clothes that fit me, and people don’t look askance when I wolf down a cheeseburger. It’s Always Been Ours establishes how, for Black women of any size and shape, food is just another item on the list of mental gymnastics they complete each day. Hair too kinky? Eating too much or too little? Clothing too tight or too loose? When you add anti-Black racism on top of misogyny, you get misogynoir, as Moya Bailey coined, and it’s a hell of a thing.
Speaking of new vocabulary, this book introduced me to the term food apartheid. This term complements and builds on the idea of a food desert (which I was already aware of); as Wilson explains, it clarifies that such areas are not naturally occurring but rather deliberately constructed as a result of racism. Neat! (The learning, not the racism.)
It’s Always Been Ours is moving, well organized, funny, and helpful. This is a book about racism. Its language is more accessible than that of an academic press book, its stories more personal. But it is a book about how our society polices Black women and what Wilson thinks we should do about it (hint: resist). She challenges us to do better instead of simply going along with the narrative of the status quo because it is easier and lets us stay comfortable in the power we have. I’m glad I picked this one up!
Originally posted on Kara.Reviews, where you can easily browse all my reviews and subscribe to my newsletter.
February 29, 2024
Read for 75 soft. 🫠
February 16, 2023
It’s Always Been Ours: Rewriting the Story of Black Women’s Bodies by Jessica Wilson, MS, RD, was published February 7th, 2023. I was sent an ARC as a result of my insistence on reading books about fat activism. I informed the publicist that I am a white, mostly able-bodied, straight woman and that regretfully, at this time, I don’t know any Black women actively reviewing books. My school schedule prevents me from seeking out more bloggers to develop relationships with. Nonetheless, the publicist sent an ARC knowing my schema is different from the author’s. I say all that to quote Wilson: “This book is specifically for Black women.” My hope is to boost Wilson’s work and get it into the hands of her intended readers.
Wilson, who reminds readers that a nutritionist can be anyone who wants to all themselves one, is a dietitian, who must be trained and licensed. She examines the information Black women are getting about bodies and food. While Health at Every Size and Eating Intuitively seem more “natural,” Wilson argues the information isn’t straightforward, nor is it anti-diet. Furthermore, food advice applies to a narrow category of people, namely white women. Food associated with non-white cultures are demonized: the east Asian staple rice, everything Mexican, everything associated with Black culture, etc. It’s Always Been Ours is different than what I expected because it responds to current works about food and bodies rather than lecturing with statistics, and it’s also deeply personal.
Wilson begins with her own clients and notices a pattern of problems not addressed in the larger professional field. When she worked in eating disorders as a dietitian, she encountered two Queer women, one Mexican and one Indigenous, neither of whom were “underweight,” though both restricted their eating and had all the physiological evidence of the effects of starvation. However, when Wilson and her coworker attended a conference about eating disorders and asked about clients who are both starving and “normal” or “overweight,” they were dismissed. The speaker said, “I don’t know what is happening with your patients, but I am talking about girls who are actually sick” — meaning white women who “looked like” they were starving. From my own reading, I know it is not uncommon for fat women to pretend they’ve eaten more food than is true to hide eating disorders.
And yet Wilson isn’t talking about eating disorders. She’s looking at a history and system that leads Black women into her office asking for nutrition advice on how to be smaller so they are respected by their white colleagues (and one woman noticed she felt better when white men acknowledged her when she lost all curves through food restriction). Typically, Wilson’s advice is to eat more food and acknowledge the survival skills Black women develop when it comes to eating. Surprisingly, it was at Gwyneth Paltrow’s Goop conference, a three-day celebration of the guru’s woo-woo care that felt less oppressed than a health expo at which people working in the field of nutrition gave advice on losing weight to avoid future illness without exploring cultural and systemic reasons why bodies don’t behave the same way across the board. The experiences extend across a couple of chapters. The personal examples stand out because they are unique anecdotes.
The other surprise for me is Wilson having a dialogue with other, readily-available books about diet and culture. Christy Harrison is a white woman people finally listened to, despite Black dietitians noting the problems Harrison is now famous for spotlighting. Another popular author is Body Positive Jes Baker, a young white woman claiming you can just decide to not care about how people perceive you in what comes off as a “Live! Laugh! Love!” moment, ignoring the survival component of Black women’s attempts to lose weight. I’ve tried Baker’s books and can’t stand the “just use your middle finger and dismantle the patriarchy!” nonsense. Her attitude reminds me of my students who used to write “should” essays: “women should be paid the same as men,” “racism should be over,” “anyone 18+ should be allowed alcohol.” You can say “should” all you want, but obviously the reality is different. As Wilson responds to contemporary books about food/diet, she educates readers on where Black women are let down and left out because the conversation is so narrow.
Wilson’s thoughts on Intuitive Eating, which sounds like a no-brainer food attitude, gave me a new perspective from people of socioeconomic status. If food is only available at certain times, such as the free public school lunch or for fifteen minutes between part-time jobs that don’t offer a lunch break, then people have to eat during those critical times, whether hungry or not. They may eat a lot to make up for hours of hunger. Or, she notes, many students do not accept free lunches from school to avoid the shame of other students knowing.
Jessica Wilson’s book is one to read now. Not only does it reframe the reader’s experiences with food and bodies, but she explores popular figures like Nicole Byer and Lizzo while cross-examining the narrow place where white women may find joy with their bodies through HAES and Intuitive Eating, or sympathy when they restrict their eating into starvation, but Black women and women of color are excluded.
DISCLAIMER
Thanks to publicist Nanda Dyssou for sending me an ARC from Hachette Go for review. This has not affected my opinions. You can order a hardcover copy, e-book, or unabridged audiobook.
Wilson, who reminds readers that a nutritionist can be anyone who wants to all themselves one, is a dietitian, who must be trained and licensed. She examines the information Black women are getting about bodies and food. While Health at Every Size and Eating Intuitively seem more “natural,” Wilson argues the information isn’t straightforward, nor is it anti-diet. Furthermore, food advice applies to a narrow category of people, namely white women. Food associated with non-white cultures are demonized: the east Asian staple rice, everything Mexican, everything associated with Black culture, etc. It’s Always Been Ours is different than what I expected because it responds to current works about food and bodies rather than lecturing with statistics, and it’s also deeply personal.
Wilson begins with her own clients and notices a pattern of problems not addressed in the larger professional field. When she worked in eating disorders as a dietitian, she encountered two Queer women, one Mexican and one Indigenous, neither of whom were “underweight,” though both restricted their eating and had all the physiological evidence of the effects of starvation. However, when Wilson and her coworker attended a conference about eating disorders and asked about clients who are both starving and “normal” or “overweight,” they were dismissed. The speaker said, “I don’t know what is happening with your patients, but I am talking about girls who are actually sick” — meaning white women who “looked like” they were starving. From my own reading, I know it is not uncommon for fat women to pretend they’ve eaten more food than is true to hide eating disorders.
And yet Wilson isn’t talking about eating disorders. She’s looking at a history and system that leads Black women into her office asking for nutrition advice on how to be smaller so they are respected by their white colleagues (and one woman noticed she felt better when white men acknowledged her when she lost all curves through food restriction). Typically, Wilson’s advice is to eat more food and acknowledge the survival skills Black women develop when it comes to eating. Surprisingly, it was at Gwyneth Paltrow’s Goop conference, a three-day celebration of the guru’s woo-woo care that felt less oppressed than a health expo at which people working in the field of nutrition gave advice on losing weight to avoid future illness without exploring cultural and systemic reasons why bodies don’t behave the same way across the board. The experiences extend across a couple of chapters. The personal examples stand out because they are unique anecdotes.
The other surprise for me is Wilson having a dialogue with other, readily-available books about diet and culture. Christy Harrison is a white woman people finally listened to, despite Black dietitians noting the problems Harrison is now famous for spotlighting. Another popular author is Body Positive Jes Baker, a young white woman claiming you can just decide to not care about how people perceive you in what comes off as a “Live! Laugh! Love!” moment, ignoring the survival component of Black women’s attempts to lose weight. I’ve tried Baker’s books and can’t stand the “just use your middle finger and dismantle the patriarchy!” nonsense. Her attitude reminds me of my students who used to write “should” essays: “women should be paid the same as men,” “racism should be over,” “anyone 18+ should be allowed alcohol.” You can say “should” all you want, but obviously the reality is different. As Wilson responds to contemporary books about food/diet, she educates readers on where Black women are let down and left out because the conversation is so narrow.
Wilson’s thoughts on Intuitive Eating, which sounds like a no-brainer food attitude, gave me a new perspective from people of socioeconomic status. If food is only available at certain times, such as the free public school lunch or for fifteen minutes between part-time jobs that don’t offer a lunch break, then people have to eat during those critical times, whether hungry or not. They may eat a lot to make up for hours of hunger. Or, she notes, many students do not accept free lunches from school to avoid the shame of other students knowing.
Jessica Wilson’s book is one to read now. Not only does it reframe the reader’s experiences with food and bodies, but she explores popular figures like Nicole Byer and Lizzo while cross-examining the narrow place where white women may find joy with their bodies through HAES and Intuitive Eating, or sympathy when they restrict their eating into starvation, but Black women and women of color are excluded.
DISCLAIMER
Thanks to publicist Nanda Dyssou for sending me an ARC from Hachette Go for review. This has not affected my opinions. You can order a hardcover copy, e-book, or unabridged audiobook.
January 6, 2023
I would like to thank Hachette for providing me with an ARC.
Wilson has written a great book that exposed me to a lot of information I hadn't considered before. There is a lot of great information in this book for readers to learn. I've been reading some of the discussions on how white supremacy has affected healthcare and bodies, especially in the U.S., over the past couple of years. I was able to take a lot of information away from this book, especially with how this book discusses the many ways that black women are affected by the systems that are in place within healthcare and specifically when it comes to treating eating disorders. It's Always Been Ours has some interesting discussions on connections between oppression and the body positivity movement that has been ongoing. I highly recommend this book to anybody interested in the topic.
Wilson has written a great book that exposed me to a lot of information I hadn't considered before. There is a lot of great information in this book for readers to learn. I've been reading some of the discussions on how white supremacy has affected healthcare and bodies, especially in the U.S., over the past couple of years. I was able to take a lot of information away from this book, especially with how this book discusses the many ways that black women are affected by the systems that are in place within healthcare and specifically when it comes to treating eating disorders. It's Always Been Ours has some interesting discussions on connections between oppression and the body positivity movement that has been ongoing. I highly recommend this book to anybody interested in the topic.
April 7, 2023
I listened to this one on Audible, and wish the style had been a little more conversationalist. As a Black woman, reading this book was both validating and eye-opening. So many of the experiences shared were easily recognizable and the author challenges many of the ideas are the default in our society. It was very disconcerting to see some of the reframing of common beliefs, and because of this I think it's a very important read for anyone, not just Black women. Overall, I enjoyed this book and I hope it leads to a shift in the societal conversation around food, race, and health.
February 21, 2023
Wanted to like this more than I did. Great info in here on an important topic and I connected with the author’s stories. Her writing style wasn’t my cup of tea and it made the reading experience very choppy and disjointed for me. I also had hoped the book would feel like it was written to Black women, but it felt more like it was for White readers, RDs, and others in the wellness world.
January 13, 2023
Like nothing else I’ve ever read and especially poignant as a Black woman. Challenges you to think about how we as a society view and experience health and wellness, while uplifting and celebrating Black women and all of our magic and joy. A much needed conversation starter!
February 17, 2023
Very insightful, very relevant, a true account of how systemic racism and cast systems can take away control of one’s body and autonomy to be the true self, to a point of the only way to survive is to be as “white” as possible. It points out a lot about being healthy vs being thin, and how the cast system makes it so healthy in the nutrition world is being white thin and working out, and eating granola, quinoa, kale, etc and how unfair it is for all the people left out of the possibility to consume that, or the desire, the people out because they’re trans, black or simply can’t conform to the white cis thin body type that is considered the ideal. I did feel called out here, and I thank the author, it’s important to open our eyes to these stereotype of health and beauty that we are being fed.
There’s definitely a lot that needs to change so that black and marginalised groups can access health and nutrition with proper respect and data to help them.
Another thing I learned about the black women (cis or not) is how they’re typified in three categories and they cannot escape them.
I desire with all my heart that we fight to break this cast system, and do it, and change the world to accommodate everyone and every body.
There’s a lot more about this super informative and personal book, but it is focused on the title and the author being a dietitian it does focus on food and health too, plus queerness and all the racism associated with the black body.
Must read for Black women and anyone who wants understand the world and all the people that live in it and are affected by the unfair status quo.
There’s definitely a lot that needs to change so that black and marginalised groups can access health and nutrition with proper respect and data to help them.
Another thing I learned about the black women (cis or not) is how they’re typified in three categories and they cannot escape them.
I desire with all my heart that we fight to break this cast system, and do it, and change the world to accommodate everyone and every body.
There’s a lot more about this super informative and personal book, but it is focused on the title and the author being a dietitian it does focus on food and health too, plus queerness and all the racism associated with the black body.
Must read for Black women and anyone who wants understand the world and all the people that live in it and are affected by the unfair status quo.
July 31, 2024
I read this book when it was first published and decided to listen to the author read the audiobook a couple of weeks ago, which I highly recommend. Hearing Jessica’s voice allowed the many lessons to land more deeply for me as a white, straight-sized, hetero-, cis, able-bodies old woman who works as an RD in the eating disorder field. I’ve learned countless lessons about how I mess up both personally and professionally from Jessica’s podcast and social media presence and this book continued my unlearning and learning. As Jessica says, she speaks her truth clear and concisely and I appreciate that greatly. I highly recommend this book to all of us.
March 12, 2024
I hope the intended audience can get their hands on this book that was crafted with such care.
As a dietitian working with clients and sharing space to discuss body narratives and how it impacts their food intake, this is essential reading. I have learned from Jessica in a group continuing ed virtual setting. Her voice comes through just as clear and strong through the page as she did when leading sessions and discussions.
Definitely something I’ll find myself returning to throughout my career and recommending with fervor.
As a dietitian working with clients and sharing space to discuss body narratives and how it impacts their food intake, this is essential reading. I have learned from Jessica in a group continuing ed virtual setting. Her voice comes through just as clear and strong through the page as she did when leading sessions and discussions.
Definitely something I’ll find myself returning to throughout my career and recommending with fervor.
March 18, 2024
This book was not written for me, but the depth of knowledge and insight that it contains is staggeringly important for literally everyone. I think if everyone was to read this and give it some serious consideration, and if specifically white people were to reflect on the (un(sometimes)) conscious bias we display in all aspects of our life, that the way we view bodies and health would actually change. I felt very validated in my consistent experience of fatphobia within the medical system when reading this book. Because IT IS REAL. The system is ACTUALLY rigged.
Please read this. Anyway. Fuck biased science and rich people.
Please read this. Anyway. Fuck biased science and rich people.
April 30, 2023
This is one of the most challenging and empowering books I’ve read! It’s Always Been Ours explores systemic racism waged against Black women’s bodies. The book explores history, politics, and advocacy to illuminate bias and discrepancy in research and the damaging ways “me” solutions (individual responsibility) are applied to “we” problems (collective responsibility) to benefit people who already have privilege and power.
November 30, 2023
This book to me gives black women freedom , in their bodies. & freedom within our culture to embrace who we really are with the body we have. I love that , she explains how JOY has so much to do with our Health & Wellness.
The title is Everything , our joy has always been ours , our community has always been our , our bodies have always been ours.
This is such an empowering book! It's Always Been Ours talks racism waged against Black women's bodies.
The book explores history, politics, and bias information that has been taught to us. & l the damage it has done.
The title is Everything , our joy has always been ours , our community has always been our , our bodies have always been ours.
This is such an empowering book! It's Always Been Ours talks racism waged against Black women's bodies.
The book explores history, politics, and bias information that has been taught to us. & l the damage it has done.
Read
November 14, 2023Loved listening to this book!! Her critiques were sooo refreshing (particularly of my white woman icon, Brené Brown, eek).
March 14, 2023
I’ve always been curious about the Black body. We have endured so much, even from conception, it’s impossible to even fathom all that has happened to us and our bodies… just even thinking about the ancestral trauma that flows in our Black bodies has been breathless with anxiety, fear, and uncertainty for our future children. With the racial climate the way it is now, it’s easy to think that nothing is going to change for the better, but surprisingly, things have gotten better over time. It hasn’t been a grand sweeping change, but there has been more awareness and conversation about the Black body, and more people are listening. Maybe not the right people are listening, but people are paying attention and listening, so that’s a change.
I read this book hoping to learn more about how Black bodies are viewed, treated, handled, and cared for. I mean, I wake up in this Black body everyday, I know what happens to us. However, what made me more interested in this book was the questions I had while reading this book.
Is there ever a time where healthy and unhealthy weight can be discussed outside of the body positivity/fat positivity movement we have somewhow cocooned ourselves inside? Can doctors advise on weightloss for the health of a person without being viewed as fat-shaming? Is there ways in which we can police ourselves and our women-friends into being a healthier version of ourselves and root for those who are shedding pounds, but not be looked at as a gremlin for suggesting weightloss? Do we have to accept someone who is abusing their body possibly with food and just look the other way all because we need to be more understanding, caring, and inclusive?
When I was growing up my mother made me promise not to gain an excessive amount of weight. In her words, she wanted me to promise never to get fat. She is a medical professional, and she stated that she has seen so many health issues with people who are obese that she never wanted that for me. I have kept that promise, but I have felt pressured, not from just my mom, but from what society wants in order to feel acceptable amongst people. When I was in the Marine Corps, we had to march up to the front of the quarterdeck in our underwear to get weight checked and measured in front of every other girl up there. If any one of us was heavier than what we were supposed to be, we were ridiculed in front of everyone and put on diet trays to lose the weight. Myself, I was an athletic individual and carried muscle mass very well on my frame, but my weight was always on the border of being “overweight” even when I wasn’t overweight. My muscle density added more pounds to the scale, but I always measured within standards. However, I was always double and triple checked with my weight, and made to feel “fat” even when I was down to 17% body fat. I was too muscular, too big, weighed too much, and put on a diet at 142lbs at 5’5” because my height and weight requirements at the time maxed out at 145lbs. Even though I was one of the most athletic women in my squad, even though I pulled a 298/300 in my physical performance test, even though I was one of the fastest runners, I was always treated like I was fat because I was too close to the max weight I could be. However, there wasn’t many Black women in my squad. There were 4 of us, and 3 of us were always on the border of the height/weight requirements due to our muscular frames. The other one of us was on the far extreme side of thinness. You could see all of her bones, and though she was on double rations, her being underweight wasn’t as much of a concern as it was to us who were considered close to being “overweight” based on the military standards. However, that experience of having been weighed and measured in front of everyone made me develop a complex about myself and I had a poor body image for most of my 20s. I always thought I was fat. I avoided certain clothes. I never let anyone see me naked with the lights on, and I hated how I looked if I wasn’t within my height/weight requirements from the military. Matter of fact, I didn’t even want to have children because I thought I would never be able to lose the weight.
Just imagine someone who actually has an eating disorder and is facing body image issues. Imagine someone who has been bullied for their weight or lack of weight, and having to navigate spaces where non-Black people don’t even “see us” as real people. It’s hard! Challenging! Impossible!
Many spaces treat body positivity and fat positivity and fat activism as a white person thing. Even just thinking about food choices right now, I remember thinking that Kale was for white people. Quinoa, granola, “Whole Foods store,” Trader Joes, are for white people. Being organic is for white people.
As a product of the hood, I’ve had to unlearn a lot of stereotypes I had of this stigma. For example, when I was growing up I thought organic food was too expensive, and only white people could afford it. Black people had processed food. Cheap food. Generic food. My thinking was that we could never afford to even eat well, let alone think about body positivity. There was no room for that. Being thin, pale and wispy was for white girls. Black girls were thick. Meaty. Yet we were addicted to processed foods cause that’s all we could afford. No one was really eating fresh vegetables when I was growing up. Veggies were canned until they came out with steamables. Meat wasn’t from a butcher, but from the grocery store and we looked for discounted meat.
On top of not having accessible or affordable healthy food, we had to work a couple of jobs to make ends meet. So, having time to eat a sensible meal isn’t really in the cards for those who are struggling financially. More often than not, people who don’t have access to fresh, healthy, organic foods are under nourished. We haven’t even considered mental health, and the struggles of being Black in America, coupled with the inaccessibility of fresh food, and lack of treatment for eating disorders and mental disorders, poeple have been only doing what they can do or afford. Black women aren’t even taken seriously while bringing life into this world, what hope is there for Black women who actually need resources and accessibility for eating disorders and healthy practices when it comes to self-love and investing in their health. Black women have had to fight all their lives to be heard and cared for, and Jessica Wilson makes an excellent case on why we need to fight harder for Black women to be seen and heard. We have raised this country from its inception, and it’s time now for the country to take care of us.
This book raises awareness on queerness, on understanding the trajectory of Black women’s bodies, on learning/unlearning things about dieting and self-care, and how we are all responsible in shaping the body positivity movement into something that is accessible for all, and not just for cis-gendered white women.
Thank you so much to Hachette Books, Corioloso, and the author Jessica Wilson for this book in exchange for a fair and honest opinion.
I read this book hoping to learn more about how Black bodies are viewed, treated, handled, and cared for. I mean, I wake up in this Black body everyday, I know what happens to us. However, what made me more interested in this book was the questions I had while reading this book.
Is there ever a time where healthy and unhealthy weight can be discussed outside of the body positivity/fat positivity movement we have somewhow cocooned ourselves inside? Can doctors advise on weightloss for the health of a person without being viewed as fat-shaming? Is there ways in which we can police ourselves and our women-friends into being a healthier version of ourselves and root for those who are shedding pounds, but not be looked at as a gremlin for suggesting weightloss? Do we have to accept someone who is abusing their body possibly with food and just look the other way all because we need to be more understanding, caring, and inclusive?
When I was growing up my mother made me promise not to gain an excessive amount of weight. In her words, she wanted me to promise never to get fat. She is a medical professional, and she stated that she has seen so many health issues with people who are obese that she never wanted that for me. I have kept that promise, but I have felt pressured, not from just my mom, but from what society wants in order to feel acceptable amongst people. When I was in the Marine Corps, we had to march up to the front of the quarterdeck in our underwear to get weight checked and measured in front of every other girl up there. If any one of us was heavier than what we were supposed to be, we were ridiculed in front of everyone and put on diet trays to lose the weight. Myself, I was an athletic individual and carried muscle mass very well on my frame, but my weight was always on the border of being “overweight” even when I wasn’t overweight. My muscle density added more pounds to the scale, but I always measured within standards. However, I was always double and triple checked with my weight, and made to feel “fat” even when I was down to 17% body fat. I was too muscular, too big, weighed too much, and put on a diet at 142lbs at 5’5” because my height and weight requirements at the time maxed out at 145lbs. Even though I was one of the most athletic women in my squad, even though I pulled a 298/300 in my physical performance test, even though I was one of the fastest runners, I was always treated like I was fat because I was too close to the max weight I could be. However, there wasn’t many Black women in my squad. There were 4 of us, and 3 of us were always on the border of the height/weight requirements due to our muscular frames. The other one of us was on the far extreme side of thinness. You could see all of her bones, and though she was on double rations, her being underweight wasn’t as much of a concern as it was to us who were considered close to being “overweight” based on the military standards. However, that experience of having been weighed and measured in front of everyone made me develop a complex about myself and I had a poor body image for most of my 20s. I always thought I was fat. I avoided certain clothes. I never let anyone see me naked with the lights on, and I hated how I looked if I wasn’t within my height/weight requirements from the military. Matter of fact, I didn’t even want to have children because I thought I would never be able to lose the weight.
Just imagine someone who actually has an eating disorder and is facing body image issues. Imagine someone who has been bullied for their weight or lack of weight, and having to navigate spaces where non-Black people don’t even “see us” as real people. It’s hard! Challenging! Impossible!
Many spaces treat body positivity and fat positivity and fat activism as a white person thing. Even just thinking about food choices right now, I remember thinking that Kale was for white people. Quinoa, granola, “Whole Foods store,” Trader Joes, are for white people. Being organic is for white people.
As a product of the hood, I’ve had to unlearn a lot of stereotypes I had of this stigma. For example, when I was growing up I thought organic food was too expensive, and only white people could afford it. Black people had processed food. Cheap food. Generic food. My thinking was that we could never afford to even eat well, let alone think about body positivity. There was no room for that. Being thin, pale and wispy was for white girls. Black girls were thick. Meaty. Yet we were addicted to processed foods cause that’s all we could afford. No one was really eating fresh vegetables when I was growing up. Veggies were canned until they came out with steamables. Meat wasn’t from a butcher, but from the grocery store and we looked for discounted meat.
On top of not having accessible or affordable healthy food, we had to work a couple of jobs to make ends meet. So, having time to eat a sensible meal isn’t really in the cards for those who are struggling financially. More often than not, people who don’t have access to fresh, healthy, organic foods are under nourished. We haven’t even considered mental health, and the struggles of being Black in America, coupled with the inaccessibility of fresh food, and lack of treatment for eating disorders and mental disorders, poeple have been only doing what they can do or afford. Black women aren’t even taken seriously while bringing life into this world, what hope is there for Black women who actually need resources and accessibility for eating disorders and healthy practices when it comes to self-love and investing in their health. Black women have had to fight all their lives to be heard and cared for, and Jessica Wilson makes an excellent case on why we need to fight harder for Black women to be seen and heard. We have raised this country from its inception, and it’s time now for the country to take care of us.
This book raises awareness on queerness, on understanding the trajectory of Black women’s bodies, on learning/unlearning things about dieting and self-care, and how we are all responsible in shaping the body positivity movement into something that is accessible for all, and not just for cis-gendered white women.
Thank you so much to Hachette Books, Corioloso, and the author Jessica Wilson for this book in exchange for a fair and honest opinion.
February 3, 2023
A focus on fatphobia, wellness industry, professional nutritionists, race, and class.
It gave me a lot to think about as a Black woman and how nutritionists and so much of health isn't made with us in mind except as an example of what's wrong.
It gave me a lot to think about as a Black woman and how nutritionists and so much of health isn't made with us in mind except as an example of what's wrong.
March 13, 2025
Very accessibly written and made me think critically, in new ways, about so many pieces of the ED awareness space that I had not previously interrogated enough. Lots of personal stories that really illustrate her arguments well. Different from most books that are recommended in this space
November 24, 2025
This is well worth the read! We desperately need more nuanced, inclusive, trauma-informed, systemic discussions on nutrition, wellness, and health, and Jessica provides so much of that here.
My main confusion is the way Jessica presents and critiques Intuitive Eating.
Who in the world were the three dietitians who described Intuitive Eating by “cross[ing] their hands over their chest and flutter[ing] them a bit, looking like the wings of a monarch butterfly had sprung from their collarbones. They told me that intuitive eating feels like that.” These dietitians “couldn’t tell me what intuitive eating meant in words.” WHAT?? Intuitive Eating, while certainly not the End-All-Be-All, can be defined in words, so it was disappointing to read it watered down to silent butterfly hands when there are so many providers who could have had an actual, substantive conversation about what Intuitive Eating is (and what it isn’t).
It's Always Been Ours also says that in the fourth edition of Intuitive Eating, “one of the authors detailed the freedom she found when she finally allowed herself to go out to restaurants with friends and drink water while everyone else was eating their food.” Again, WHAT?!?!! This made my head spin and, if it were true, absolutely deserves the criticism Jessica gives it. I re-read the chapter of Intuitive Eating that Jessica cites here and did not find that story, then searched “water” in the Intuitive Eating eBook, and I couldn’t find it either. Maybe Jessica was thinking of another book or author here, but it’s such an extreme example and so opposite of everything that is actually in the Intuitive Eating book.
A lot of the Intuitive Eating chapter also criticizes it for demonizing pleasure and mandating that one should “only eat when biologically hungry” – which is also not true. In the Intuitive Eating book, satisfaction is named as the core of Intuitive Eating, and eating to connect socially (even in the absence of biological hunger) is explicitly named as something that can be “emotionally healthy.”
Intuitive Eating is not ~The Answer~, but a lot of what It’s Always Been Ours criticizes about it is either false or misrepresented.
I loved Jessica’s description of her nutritional approach on page 218 and, ironically, that felt much more aligned with Intuitive Eating than her criticisms of it!
My main confusion is the way Jessica presents and critiques Intuitive Eating.
Who in the world were the three dietitians who described Intuitive Eating by “cross[ing] their hands over their chest and flutter[ing] them a bit, looking like the wings of a monarch butterfly had sprung from their collarbones. They told me that intuitive eating feels like that.” These dietitians “couldn’t tell me what intuitive eating meant in words.” WHAT?? Intuitive Eating, while certainly not the End-All-Be-All, can be defined in words, so it was disappointing to read it watered down to silent butterfly hands when there are so many providers who could have had an actual, substantive conversation about what Intuitive Eating is (and what it isn’t).
It's Always Been Ours also says that in the fourth edition of Intuitive Eating, “one of the authors detailed the freedom she found when she finally allowed herself to go out to restaurants with friends and drink water while everyone else was eating their food.” Again, WHAT?!?!! This made my head spin and, if it were true, absolutely deserves the criticism Jessica gives it. I re-read the chapter of Intuitive Eating that Jessica cites here and did not find that story, then searched “water” in the Intuitive Eating eBook, and I couldn’t find it either. Maybe Jessica was thinking of another book or author here, but it’s such an extreme example and so opposite of everything that is actually in the Intuitive Eating book.
A lot of the Intuitive Eating chapter also criticizes it for demonizing pleasure and mandating that one should “only eat when biologically hungry” – which is also not true. In the Intuitive Eating book, satisfaction is named as the core of Intuitive Eating, and eating to connect socially (even in the absence of biological hunger) is explicitly named as something that can be “emotionally healthy.”
Intuitive Eating is not ~The Answer~, but a lot of what It’s Always Been Ours criticizes about it is either false or misrepresented.
I loved Jessica’s description of her nutritional approach on page 218 and, ironically, that felt much more aligned with Intuitive Eating than her criticisms of it!
December 21, 2023
This book is essential reading if you want to examine the structural iniquities in health and wellness.
By looking at specific issues through the lens of fat, queer, Black women, the author uncovers several biases within our perceptions of health and demonstrates how most ED recovery or weight management tools and frameworks do not serve vast swathes of the population. So much of this book spoke to me and I found it articulated my own thoughts and shone a light on many assumptions and stereotypes that I unconsciously hold.
Put simply, the premise holds that there is an idealised stereotype of health and success which equates to thin, rich, white women. Proximity to that ideal comes with tangible benefits in our society yet many health professionals ignore that reality when working with patients who do not fit that mould.
Much of this book chimed with my own experiences of health professionals and I found it deeply moving to see my experiences articulated, explained and validated. That’s why I’m giving this book five stars and recommending it as essential reading.
Read my full review on my blog and follow me on IG and TikTok for more reviews and recommendations @aminasbookshelf
By looking at specific issues through the lens of fat, queer, Black women, the author uncovers several biases within our perceptions of health and demonstrates how most ED recovery or weight management tools and frameworks do not serve vast swathes of the population. So much of this book spoke to me and I found it articulated my own thoughts and shone a light on many assumptions and stereotypes that I unconsciously hold.
Put simply, the premise holds that there is an idealised stereotype of health and success which equates to thin, rich, white women. Proximity to that ideal comes with tangible benefits in our society yet many health professionals ignore that reality when working with patients who do not fit that mould.
Much of this book chimed with my own experiences of health professionals and I found it deeply moving to see my experiences articulated, explained and validated. That’s why I’m giving this book five stars and recommending it as essential reading.
Read my full review on my blog and follow me on IG and TikTok for more reviews and recommendations @aminasbookshelf
November 12, 2022
This is the first book that I've read from Jessica Wilson, and she didn't disappoint! I found the connections that she made between body positivity and America's historical oppression of black women very interesting, and it was definitely something that I never thought about before.
In the first chapter alone, Wilson has established herself as a strong writer, capable of drawing from her own experiences and observations and making them relatable to all. Her narrative writing captivated me right from the start and was a lot more detailed than I expected. She continued to depict in vivid detail the physical and emotional trauma that victims of eating disorders often face. The way that this book portrays the weight of these concerns and the validity (and sometimes toxicity!) of self-love was very thought-provoking and kept me up at night.
I don't think I would ever have been able to make the connection between white supremacy and capitalism with the way women (especially black women) treat their bodies today. Overall, I think that Wilson did a great job with this book, and I look forward to seeing her official copy in stores next year!
In the first chapter alone, Wilson has established herself as a strong writer, capable of drawing from her own experiences and observations and making them relatable to all. Her narrative writing captivated me right from the start and was a lot more detailed than I expected. She continued to depict in vivid detail the physical and emotional trauma that victims of eating disorders often face. The way that this book portrays the weight of these concerns and the validity (and sometimes toxicity!) of self-love was very thought-provoking and kept me up at night.
I don't think I would ever have been able to make the connection between white supremacy and capitalism with the way women (especially black women) treat their bodies today. Overall, I think that Wilson did a great job with this book, and I look forward to seeing her official copy in stores next year!
July 18, 2023
As the author said, this book wasn’t written for me. So that being said, I still have thoughts on the book. Mainly that it’s not for white dietitians to read and learn anything from. Which is fjne, that is definitely not the intended audience. I just wanted to write this review because other reviewers seem to think otherwise, and I wholly disagree.
This book delves back into the outrage and cancel culture of 2020-2022 and the personal experiences of the author, which after reading about it, I was not fully convinced that her issues with her coworkers had anything to do with her race but more to do with her personality.
The story about the Karen comment in the cycling class was where she really lost me. Was the cycling instructor not just shouting out women named Karen, and saying they had a hard year? Seems like an instance where the joke just didn’t land for the author. The structure of the book felt like I was just scrolling through her Instagram feed in 2020-2021, jumping all over the place from topic to topic, new outrage over new news cycles.
This book delves back into the outrage and cancel culture of 2020-2022 and the personal experiences of the author, which after reading about it, I was not fully convinced that her issues with her coworkers had anything to do with her race but more to do with her personality.
The story about the Karen comment in the cycling class was where she really lost me. Was the cycling instructor not just shouting out women named Karen, and saying they had a hard year? Seems like an instance where the joke just didn’t land for the author. The structure of the book felt like I was just scrolling through her Instagram feed in 2020-2021, jumping all over the place from topic to topic, new outrage over new news cycles.
January 4, 2023
I loved this book! It is funny, smart, provocative and guides the reader into thinking differently about how our ideas on bodies and health are shaped by race and racism. As a white woman, it pushed me to reframe how I saw the impacts of racism on Black women’s well-being. The stories shared in the book draw you in to the larger messages of each chapter with a combination of solid, academic and expert citations and snarky humor. I love that the book ends with a focus on JOY, not just another call for resilience or strength from Black women (since we already ask that much of them in their daily lives). This book would be a wonderful gift for any Black woman or Black femme in your life or, for fellow professors, a great addition to any courses that deal with embodiment, health, race, gender, eating disorders, or even employment/organizational structures.
June 16, 2023
3.5 stars
This book wasn’t written for me, a white woman —- a statement that sets the tone for this book that critiques ideas of wellness, health, and body positivity. I appreciate the well-researched portions of the book, but the author also includes quite a bit of personal memoir. These portions were more confronting and at times, combative. Wilson has received a lot of pushback from the status quo of the medical field, and she is rightfully angry about a lot of BS that has been normalized about black bodies. I wish she would have given more tools for others to continue this work on changing systematic oppression, and I wish she would have talked more about the nutrition aspect of her work.
This book wasn’t written for me, a white woman —- a statement that sets the tone for this book that critiques ideas of wellness, health, and body positivity. I appreciate the well-researched portions of the book, but the author also includes quite a bit of personal memoir. These portions were more confronting and at times, combative. Wilson has received a lot of pushback from the status quo of the medical field, and she is rightfully angry about a lot of BS that has been normalized about black bodies. I wish she would have given more tools for others to continue this work on changing systematic oppression, and I wish she would have talked more about the nutrition aspect of her work.
Read
January 26, 2023Thank you to #NetGalley and #Hachette for making an advance copy available.
This is such a smart, necessary book. Jessica Wilson has written an incisive, practical, and wise analysis of diet industries, wellness, and health discourse in our time, reminding us whose interests are served and whose are not (spoiler: Black women’s are not). She flips all of the diet and health discourse and puts Black women and femmes at the center of her analysis and recommendations.
The book is also a delight to read, written in an engaging, almost-conversational style. Wilson’s analysis integrates personal stories, interviews, and case studies of her clients, in her distinctive voice.
I really hope It’s Always Been Ours is widely read by those who most need to read it — especially professionals who work with clients who are dealing with eating disorders.
This is such a smart, necessary book. Jessica Wilson has written an incisive, practical, and wise analysis of diet industries, wellness, and health discourse in our time, reminding us whose interests are served and whose are not (spoiler: Black women’s are not). She flips all of the diet and health discourse and puts Black women and femmes at the center of her analysis and recommendations.
The book is also a delight to read, written in an engaging, almost-conversational style. Wilson’s analysis integrates personal stories, interviews, and case studies of her clients, in her distinctive voice.
I really hope It’s Always Been Ours is widely read by those who most need to read it — especially professionals who work with clients who are dealing with eating disorders.
February 7, 2023
Jessica has written something profound in, "It's Always Been Ours: Rewriting the Story of Black Women's Bodies". She speaks to the importance of learning from people with different experiences than ourselves and also to the damage that has been done and continues to be done when we get stuck in learning mode. Jessica shares both her own stories and experiences as well as those of other important Black women in her life. It is through these stories that Jessica gives us clarity around where we are, how we got here, and the potential that lies in the rewriting of Black women's narratives and the celebration of Black women's joy. Read it. Share it.
February 9, 2023
This book was an excellent look at diet culture, health practice, and wellness culture is based on the upholding of white, thin body types and serves little else. It looks at how diet culture is often traumatizing too and health practices alienate black women, and see them as having no knowledge of their own bodies and selves.
As a registered dietician who treats women in eating disorders, she offered a unique perspective about how current perspectives and treatment of eating disorders, is all based on a specific body type and actively ignores, or often encourages unhealthy eating patterns for black women if they believe it will further their weight loss, even at the risk of their own health.
I think this book is well-timed and needed, especially after the additional wellness culture booms following the COVID-19 pandemic.
Disclaimer: I received a gifted ARC and Finished Copy from the publisher.
As a registered dietician who treats women in eating disorders, she offered a unique perspective about how current perspectives and treatment of eating disorders, is all based on a specific body type and actively ignores, or often encourages unhealthy eating patterns for black women if they believe it will further their weight loss, even at the risk of their own health.
I think this book is well-timed and needed, especially after the additional wellness culture booms following the COVID-19 pandemic.
Disclaimer: I received a gifted ARC and Finished Copy from the publisher.
May 10, 2023
Something I wouldn’t have picked up on my own, but the author spoke on campus and I thought it would be a good exploration. Her frank (clear, as she says) tone conveys her messaging clearly. Overall, I found the critiques of diet culture, Welness, health etc. through the lens of Blackness interesting and compelling. Her overt causal tone and using only personal experience (in fairness, the academic literature is next to nothing) to tell a very serious nonfiction story made me disconnect a little, though. Probably because the book wasn’t written with me in mind to connect to
May 24, 2023
Incredible, so needed, a must-read!! If you’re going to choose to read a book about fatphobia and racism, this one really covers the bases, because it incorporates concepts from major books “Fearing the Black Body” and “Belly of the Beast” while at the same time critiquing: anti-diet, intuitive eating, Wellness, Health, body positivity (plus other white supremacist frameworks) so that you don’t have to waste your time and energy learning about those approaches
July 7, 2024
Jessica Wilson, MS, RD challenges the status quo and accepted norms around dieting, health, and more through (but not limited to) how white supremacy informs / influences / dictates those said norms. There were multiple times while reading that I felt, “I knew I wasn’t crazy for …” At times, challenging and at other times, perspective expanding; yet at all times, valuable.
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