Telling stories across multiple media forms, tapping the strengths of each, offers the potential to develop meaningful stories in much deeper and more engaging ways.
I believe that young girls need to learn how to perceive and react to social media, pop culture and entertainment in a more positive way. This isn't taught in schools, and I highly doubt that our parents can honestly understand social media to understand its effects.
I was skinny and proud of it, and unlike many anorexics, I didn't mind showing off my hard-earned sickly body to the rest of world. But underneath it all, I knew something was wrong.
It's no easy feat to admit to flaws, because that means they're real and we have to confront them. Accepting our mistakes or shortcomings -- choices that may not have served us well, unflattering ways others may perceive us, or subtle imperfections that gnaw away at us -- is uncomfortable in the short-term, but acknowledging them can ward off long-term problems.
While there are strong arguments for the games' unique potential as vehicles for a deep, experiential understanding, it is our experience that these kinds of mental health games tend to polarize.
I suspect I won't ever be able to fully succeed in making everyone happy. So, in revisiting my petition after all the kerfuffle, I've gotten some clarity. These are the two goals I hope my petition can reach.
Unless you live in cave, these ubiquitous photographs of the famished female form will negatively affect most kids to some degree. The popular narrative that says otherwise is wrong, and is not supported by research.
In trying to make sense of this all and uncover its roots, I now see the subtle cues that indicated my susceptibility to anorexia. Most obvious is my neurotic perfectionism.
I never want my daughter to know that at any given moment, I see myself as 5-10 pounds shy of my goal weight. And happiness. And I never want her think that a natural part of being a woman is living in a chronic low-grade fever of body dissatisfaction.
At age 12, I survived incest and a lot of bullying, which led to the development of an eating disorder. My body became my own personal battleground and all I wanted to do was disappear.
I am a recovering anorexic, and this is my story. I've thought about it every day since I was 16-years-old. I've analyzed it, dug deep for its root, and cried over its reality.
And yet, sometime between now and adulthood, they, too, will stop being delighted by cake and learn to fear it. Rather than taking a big piece and loving it, they'll ask for a tiny slice and beat themselves up about eating it.
My whole life, I was called a picky eater, but I was always assured that I would grow out of it. My parents had both been "picky" (according to my grandparents), but like most children, they had grown out of it. As a kid, I believed that eventually, that would happen for me too. Until it just didn't.
I worry for the girls out there who are like I was -- who are suffering from the same self-esteem issues that most teenagers do and are being told they are ugly not only by their teasing peers, but by adults around them who are crusading for change.
How does one go about an interdisciplinary project spanning art and science? How might this look? we set out to explore how mental health advocacy, video game design, and documentary filmmaking could come together to enhance understanding and fight stigma about mental illness.
"Who cares? It's our kitchen on a Monday night. I love you and I want to touch you and have you be excited about that. Is that so wrong?" He is starting to back away, the grooves on this path worn in a rut we fall into so easily.