Before we get into the details of my story, It's important that I acknowledge my privilege. I am white person living on Haudenosaunee, Wendake-Nionwentsio, and Mississauga land. I have never been discriminated against because of my skin colour, or religious practices nor have I faced systemic racism. I grew up in a middle class home, have some college education and did get some help paying for tuition so I don't have any student debt. If you're unfamiliar with your own privilege check out my 'resources' page for a few places to start.

The other intersections of my identity include: queer, non-binary woman, who was raised by a single mother in an abusive and traumatic home. I have struggled with mental health, trauma, and eating disorders a lot of my life. I'm no longer in contact with my mother and have had many months as an adult, where I worried about making ends meet. That's the overview.

I am a thirty something year old, non-binary (pronouns: they/she), queer person who has always felt a little bit like a fraud calling themselves queer. I don't identify with terms like 'lady', or 'girl' but I do identify as a woman. I'm a big fan of drinking hot coffee on an fall morning walk with a true crime podcast, and a sweater with sleeves that are too long. I have a monstera (plant) that is threatening to take over my living room, I get distracted a little easily and will more than likely say 'fuck yes', or 'I hope you can see what a big deal that is!' and tear up when my client shares a win with me.

When I was little I lost my dad, and grew up in an emotionally abusive home. The chapter summary of ages 3-18 would be: inter-generational trauma, and other songs I wrote. (I never actually wrote a song with that title, but I basically wrote a song with that title, you know?) I struggled with eating disorders, over-exercising, caffeine-ism (as a high school kid a doctor literally told me this), and a variety-pack of other shitty coping mechanisms, and struggles that come along with mental health and a traumatic home life.

For the majority of my life I hated my body. My disordered eating started at a really young age, and the only movement I practiced was for punishment, or "shoulds". I counted calories, spent years of my time avoiding mirrors, and despising my body. Food and body shame occupied most of my thoughts for a very long time. Fuck, I started practicing yoga with a 'yoga for weight-loss' DVDs with my mom.

I grew up feeling like I didn't fit in because of the size of my body, my trauma, because I am queer. I had to spend so long just trying to survive, so I didn't know my favourite colour, how to pick what to eat for dinner, or what I wanted to be when I grew up, so I had a hard time knowing what to talk about with other kids sometimes. I thought for sure the answer to all my problems would be to lose weight. I thought my body was the one thing standing between me and happiness, friends, love and success. (spoiler alert: it wasn't)

I even had countless yoga teachers and fitness instructors who validated this by feeding me spiritual bullshit (just choose to be happy) and diet-culture lines. (no pain no gain) I'd leave the studio feeling worse about myself, and full of shame. All these words made me feel more alone, more at fault, and like I'd never ever fit in.

I wont lie, I went through a shit ton as a kid, and because of that I learned to dissociate from my body. I had no idea what someone meant when they asked me to notice my feelings, how my legs felt in warrior two and I sure as fuck didn't know if I was breathing 'deeply' or not. But, slowly, I learned to feel how my body felt physically, and emotionally. Ouch. I learned to check in with my body's needs, and prioritize those needs over whatever the teacher was telling me to do. Yoga and movement evolved into a tool to take care of my body, and spend quality, non-shame-filled, time with it. Movement and a really good therapist, were both really important tools in my recovery.

It took me years to realize I wasn't the problem. That I was raised in a society, and a home that wasn't made to support me, but to tear me down and turn me against myself.

This is by no means my entire story, but it's an important part of why I do what I do.

I want to be the teacher that tells the spiritual-bypassing bully-teachers to fuck off.
I want to be the teacher that tells you it's okay to feel sad, to be depressed, or to be angry.
I want to be the teacher that reminds you fat isn't a feeling, fat is morally neutral and there is nothing wrong it.
I want to be the teacher that declares war against diet-culture, and demands fat liberation.

The reason I do what I do is because I spent so much time feeling left out, hating my body, and feeling like the problem. I know the impact that movement can have on your life when it is an act of love for your body rather than an act of hate. I know the impact of having a space where you feel safe to exist in your body, as you are, with all the feels you've got going on. Even the ones you don't have names for.

And I don't want to just be another teacher with fancy empty words who leave you feeling like you're alone with some of these struggles and I somehow have it all figured out. Because I don't. Those moments I finally connected with someone else who also felt angry, and sad and scared to be loved? Freeing as hell. Those moments of other people's vulnerability were moments that helped me feel seen. That's why I take the approach I do, so that even one of you can read what I have to say and think 'oh thank god, I'm not the only one'.

I'm telling you this because I wish someone told me this shit back then. I'm telling you this because I want you to know I've been there. I get it.

Reminders:
-bmi is bullshit
-body size is not related to health, capabilities, value, success
-unfortunately fat phobia is a real thing that effects how fat people are treated in our society and that's complete bullshit.
-you are enough, you always have been. Fuck anyone who makes you think otherwise.

Extras:
Rebel Movement Podcast: entrepreneurship & trauma pt 1 and 2
(for more about my story, and why I do what I do)

With love,

Billie