I didn’t plan to share but…

“Why don’t you fast Tami?”

The question, from my Ashamed to Admit co-host Dashiel Lawrence on last year’s Yom Kippur episode, struck a nerve.

It brought together my Jewish identity, the perception of my body and my medical history in a high stakes public setting.

I could have replied that I have low blood pressure or that I find fasting a barrier – not a portal – to authentic repentance and spiritual renewal. Both answers would have been true, but they would have also avoided a story which is not just personal but also cultural.

So, I revealed that I stopped fasting at the age of 19 when I was receiving treatment for an eating disorder that I developed as a child. During this time, I acknowledged that the religious practice of fasting came with the risk of relapse.

I did not intend to talk about the distressing eight-year preoccupation with my body, it just sort of happened. I considered editing it out, but we decided to keep it in the final edit.

I’m glad I did. Several listeners reached out to thank me for exposing my vulnerability. Some had similar childhood experiences or struggling loved ones and appreciated the solidarity. Others are still battling their own illnesses.

The reaction to my disclosure left me wondering how many more community members would benefit from talking openly about the taboos of body image in our community.

At the start of my recovery journey, a healthcare professional offered me the analogy that an eating disorder is like a song in a music player. “At the moment the ED track is playing on repeat at maximum volume.” Managing my expectations, she warned, “the ED track will always be there… but we’ll hopefully get you to a place where it’s on random. Sometimes it’ll pop up when you least expect it, but you’ll have the skills to skip to the next song or at least turn the volume down”.

She was right. Someone comments on another person’s size in front of me and my record starts playing. The Jewish food obsession, dietary strictures, and expectation of fasting are all potential trip wires.

Now that I’m raising children of my own, there’s an extra layer of anxiety attached to my history. We all know that neuroses are intergenerational, and I am very conscious of what I might be passing onto my kids.

It’s why I’m inspired by so many members of the Australian Jewish community who are working tirelessly to change the conversation, to guide us (and future generations) towards body positivity, or at the very least, body neutrality.

Body image plays into our attitudes to gender, sexuality, race and religiosity. Boys and men aren’t immune to the associated stress, and neither are Orthodox Jews who adhere to modest dress guidelines.

As Speedy Shatari, an LGBTQ+ empowerment advocate and a Mizrachi Jew observes, changes to one’s body image can be both fraught and affirming for those carving out minority identities.

Founder of Mind.Body.Connection (and my sister) Lana Sussman Davis notes that our preoccupation with size is distorting. We often confuse body image with health, but as Lana points out, “bigger can mean healthier”.

My own life experience and my conversations with other members of the Jewish community have prompted me to explore some of the many aspects of body image and its interaction with our culture.

I’ll be the first to admit that there are gaps in this series: it’s a huge topic and different age demographics and life experiences would have yielded additional perspectives.

As always, feel free to share your thoughts in the comments section. My only request is that you avoid commenting on the way people look in the accompanying photos. To quote one of my interviewees, “it’s the least interesting thing about a person”.