Shame Never Works

In a new Archive post, Noemí Fierros scoops a second helping of discourse on ‘Feast: True Love in and out of the Kitchen’ by Hannah Howard.

By Noemí FierrosFebruary 28, 2026

• Food & Drink

• Gender & Sexuality

HOW DOES A WOMAN have an eating disorder ethically? As the 20-year-trend cycle gives low-rise jeans, wired headphones, and digital cameras a second chance at their glory days, “2000s skinny” simultaneously becomes the not-so-new aspirational standard. Unlike 20 years ago, you’re not likely to see a commercial promising that a yogurt cleanse will give you that itsy-bitsy bikini-ready body. This time, no one’s even looking at the bikini, or the dress they bought two sizes too small for “motivation.” This season’s most alluring accessories are a flat stomach, prominent collarbones, and razor-sharp cheeks: it’s all anyone is wearing on the red carpet, and you can’t escape what’s right in front of you.

Last Thanksgiving, as I sat scrolling mindlessly on my phone waiting for dinner, my screen was absolutely bombarded with driver’s-seat rants and pop culture think pieces speculating on the alleged “eating disorders” of celebrities: all of whom, of course, were women. Commentary of this nature was rampant in the early 2000s—a slew of side-by-side before-and-after photos filling magazines and tabloids, tracking every inch that melted off Nicole Richie’s waist, or comparing Mary-Kate Olsen’s shrinking body to that of her sister Ashley. But in November 2025, speculation of this nature couldn’t be presented as gossip for gossip’s sake; it needed to have some sort of moral motivation. While I scrolled past a good number of videos solely expressing concern, it was hard to ignore how much of what I saw implied that existing with an eating disorder in the public eye was an irresponsible moral failure; I don’t think I’d ever heard the word “emaciated” as much as I did that month. While I expected most videos and articles about these celebrities to be prefaced with a “concern for their well-being,” the additional framing of a moral imperative to call out these women was, admittedly, more surprising.

In her review of Hannah Howard’s memoir Feast: True Love in and out of the Kitchen (2018), food writer Susan Pagani reminds us that the entitlement we feel toward this kind of discussion of other women’s bodies is socialized into us. Pagani opens “Nobody Is Safe: Disordered Eating in the Age of Foodies” with a clear argument: “I, and maybe all women, have to be more honest about our relationship to food—if only to take some of the pressure off and let each other know that we get it.” This collective relationship toward food and body image often develops from the first hand that feeds us. Pagani writes that she deeply resonates with Howard’s memories of her mother’s “sideways glares” that shouted “cease and desist” whenever she noticed Howard was eating “too much.” If she were writing the book today, the chapter might’ve mentioned “almond mom” culture. Mothers are not fully at fault for this situation, Pagani specifies, confessing that such judgments of “eating too much” would come without her mother’s help. Notably, Pagani admits to her own tendency to “raise an eyebrow at [her] partner” when “he’s had more than enough” at a dinner party. This sense of entitlement to judge others’ eating habits, she says, is never productive—“shame never works.”

Pagani’s experience reading Feast in conjunction with Kate Cairns and Josée Johnston’s Food and Femininity (2015) makes apparent to her the thick, smoky sensation of shame that often follows discussions of eating disorders, a feeling of failure that doesn’t just apply to a person’s “sense of control” around food. The women surveyed in Cairn and Johnston’s study admit to experiencing shame around the idea of “falling for” the propaganda encouraging women to aspire to thinness. Suffering from eating disorders, Howard suggests, feels like playing into patriarchy, like going against a liberally educated upbringing. For many women, admitting to having one yourself feels like admitting that you’re not cool, smart, or feminist enough to be “above” anorexia—which is what makes Pagani’s article, and by extension Howard’s memoir, so relevant. In more and more of the articles and video essays I’ve encountered since Thanksgiving, this internal rhetoric drives the sense of entitlement to comment on strangers’ bodies. The collective moralization of anorexia, whether hidden under the guise of concern or even the need to prove one’s awareness of the patriarchy, that “not me” approach Pagani describes, has not dissipated in the eight years since her review was published.

However, discussion is not the enemy of collective healing; according to Pagani, it’s the whole point. A feeling of kinship, of understanding among other women, allows Howard to begin letting go of the shame and healing, and inspires Pagani to write her review. The solution is not to stop speaking about eating disorder culture, or to never bring attention to its promotion, but to acknowledge in these discussions the very real pressures (internal and external) that push us all toward a fascination with thinness. Like the title of the review suggests, no one is safe: not from a culture that equates thinness with glamour and worthiness, or from spiritual successors of early 2000s tabloid culture blasting edited before-and-after photos to thousands of viewers, or from the insatiable need to cast sideways glances at other women who we deem “unsettling” for falling victim to a disease. I don’t pretend to offer a perfect solution, nor do I scold the internet for their dialogues on the disturbing content promoting “2000s skinny” as the retro new ideal. Pagani invites us to remember that shame is the enemy of healing and progress, but also reminds us not to silence our voices on the topic. She encourages us not to stop ourselves from pointing out the concerning and dangerous rhetoric that persuades women to aspire to thinness over all else, and to approach our discussions with openness: to reevaluate how we view eating disorders within others, within ourselves, and within our society.