I can not keep reading.

This short book is deeply tendentious and absolutely infuriating. I am confronted with thoughtless homophobia/heterosexism, invisible to the perps; with explicit transphobia everywher I look in our culture; with idiots bloviating about disability in ways that boggle*my*mind* and are impervious to anything like education.

How much more awful for Author Dex Anderson to confont these things, and then courageously set out to analyze and explain them clearly and persuasively...to people who won't listen. I suppose that includes me, since I'm absolutely unable to endure the stress of feeling so infuriated at the way things are one more page without having another stroke.

Broadleaf Books says, "$24.99 please," for the hardcover, which seems inexpensive to me. You should, though, get the information in here.

As a deeply anxious person who is well aware of my mind-body tether, I found this book fascinating and potentially a great read for those that haven't given it as much thought (lookin at you, white guys and others of vast privilege).

Some area could have gone deeper, been more robust, but much of this book was very personal and based on lived experience which comes with limitations.

I particularly found myself spiraling at the quandary of disability and the afterlife. To say that a person will be "reborn" in perfect form takes away from their bodymind identity, clearly devaluing them in their authentic self. However, what if that person wants that disability gone? Surely they shouldn't be saddled with a very human condition in an idealized afterlife. No one is pleased when their body seemingly betrays them due to age or injury. But then again, what if that thing - whatever it is - is a defining feature that makes them who they are? To "fix " that not only changes their identity in a very integral way, but also implies that they were "broken." What if they never saw themselves that way? All of us are imperfect in some way, so if we're "reborn in perfect bodies" wouldn't that make us all essentially the same? (The point was ableism, but theology is also fascinating.)

ANYWAY, would recommend, especially to that transphobic family member that can't quite articulate why they don't like it, but are nonetheless quite invested in what strangers do with their bodies.

This is a short, around 150 pages, compilation of author's experiences with prejudice and discrimination and a collection of various horrific events across American history documenting racism, sexism, homophobia, transphobia, classism, discrimination of poor people, ableism, fatphobia, religious discrimination and medical malpractice. It's a lot of misery and not much conclusion except Christianity (esp. Evangelical American version of it) and Capitalism are to blame.

Oh, there's one conclusion that "your body belongs to you", but that's very much a slogan. When some 20 years ago I was going through a period of suicidal ideation it was suddenly everyone's business to tell me I'm definitely not allowed to do whatever I want with my body, but I exist to serve the society rather than for any other reason. We can see other shades of this attitude with restrictions towards abortion, sterilization or transgender treatments, or in the historical situation presented in the book where over 100 workers died in a factory fire because their time and existence was treated as a property. If you think that was a historical event long ago, I shall remind you in 21st century, in 2013 a garment factory in Bangladesh collapsed and killed over ONE THOUSAND people.

If you are in a position to say "my body belongs to me" you have an immense privilege of freedom not everyone on the planet has. No matter how marginalized otherwise you are, it's something that factory worker, that child soldier, that forced bride around the Earth cannot say.

We might have achieved great technological leaps, but in social structure for thousands of years we didn't move away from a system of owners and owned, just the labels are changing and the means of keeping people docile and obedient too.

Unfortunately, this title was a miss for me - if I wanted to remind myself all possible ways in which marginalized people are mistreated, it's enough to open the news. I expected some deeper analysis and scientific approach. I was raised an atheist socialist in a very much conservative Christian country, and I should be in agreement with the author, but I mostly feel triggered and upset and not really enlightened or educated. It's as if the book couldn't decide should it be a memoir, a political manifesto, a history lesson or self-help about acceptance. And in 150 pages it can't be everything, so it ends up not fulfilling expectations at any of the above.

Thank you Netgalley and Broadleaf Books for the ARC.

"American culture hates the fact that we have bodies" (loc. 4), writes Anderson, and so the book goes: "Body Phobia" is an exploration of some of the ways in which American culture seeks to control bodies and to regulate them, often in the context of white evangelical Christianity.

Short but wide-ranging, "Body Phobia" covers topics such as race, disability, gender, and sexuality. Some of the material feels pretty academic, but in an accessible way; there's also a lot of memoir and of Anderson piecing together the topics that are most relevant to their own life and figuring out how they intersect and where they come from.

There's so much material here—any of the chapters could become a book of its own, I think. I found it to be a bit slow going at times because of this; there's so much going on that I couldn't quite get my footing. But some *fascinating* tidbits:

"And it took a long time before doctors actually understood things that we now know to be true, like the fact that babies can feel pain (up until the 1980s, it was common to operate on infants without anesthesia because of a mistaken belief that babies didn't actually process pain)." (loc. 718*) Maybe worth noting here that many doctors still—implicitly or explicitly—believe that minorities, particularly Black people, feel less pain than White people and undermedicate accordingly.

"He [Anderson's brother, who has Down syndrome] was their kid, and they were going to raise him. It took my extended family a little bit to get used to the idea—my dad told me once that my grandpa had asked him when he was going to grow out of his condition." (loc. 789)

In a discussion of religion and homosexuality, Anderson notes that some Jewish scholars take a different view of the story of Sodom than (conservative) Christians do; I won't quote because I'd be quoting a quote and that gets messy, but the short of it is that in at least one interpretation the sin is about forcing people to conform. I may have to seek out the text Anderson quotes and read more, because it's not something I'd heard before, and I'm very intrigued.

Readers should go in knowing that there's a fair amount about White evangelical Christianity in here; fortunately that's one of my pet reading topics (from a very secular view, but what can you do—we all have our weird things), but it's not something I expected from the description. An interesting read for a somewhat academically inclined crowd.

Thanks to the author and publisher for providing a review copy through NetGalley.

*Quotes are from an ARC and may not be final.

Dianna Andersen takes a look at how we in Western Cultures have tried to separate our body from the rest of us. When this is done, in the way that a lot of religions try to do, it can be very harmful. This is a great book to dig into to help us merge our whole selves back into one .

Anderson intertwines interesting facts with a prose tinted with gothic tones, hightening the interest and attention of the reader. I found the notional exploration of the hardship the recognition of the body's important at times drowned by the author's personal opinions, but this didn't hinder my enjoyment of the book. I was able to extract many interesting new facts and considerations that have helped me to form a more complete understanding of the relation between bodies, religion and society.

In Body Phobia: The Western Roots of Our Fear of Difference, Dianna E. Anderson offers a compelling exploration of the pervasive fear and loathing of bodies that deviate from Western norms. With an incisive critique, Anderson unpacks how societal standards have been weaponized to enforce conformity and marginalize those who fall outside these narrow definitions.

Anderson's analysis is both thorough and deeply empathetic, tracing the historical roots of body phobia back to colonialism, racism, and patriarchy. She illustrates how Western beauty ideals—rooted in whiteness, thinness, and able-bodiedness—have perpetuated a fear of difference that manifests in fatphobia, ableism, and other forms of discrimination. Anderson argues that this fear is not just a superficial preference but a deeply ingrained cultural anxiety that reflects and reinforces power structures.

The strength of this book lies in its intersectional approach. Anderson does not limit her examination to gender or race alone but considers how various aspects of identity—such as sexuality, disability, and class—intersect to shape our perceptions of bodies. She skillfully weaves personal narratives with academic research, creating a narrative that is both accessible and intellectually rigorous.

One of the most striking aspects of Anderson’s work is her ability to make the invisible visible. She exposes the subtle ways in which body phobia infiltrates everyday life, from media representations to healthcare disparities. Her writing challenges readers to confront their own biases and consider the broader societal implications of their attitudes towards bodies.

However, the book is not without its critiques. Some readers may find Anderson's tone at times overly academic, which could be a barrier for those less familiar with the theoretical frameworks she employs. Additionally, while the book’s focus on Western culture is clear, a more in-depth comparison with non-Western perspectives on body image could have added another layer of depth to the discussion.

Overall, Body Phobia is a thought-provoking and necessary read for anyone interested in understanding the cultural forces that shape our perceptions of bodies. Anderson's work is a call to action, urging readers to challenge the status quo and embrace a more inclusive and compassionate view of human diversity. This book is a valuable contribution to conversations about body image, social justice, and the ways in which we can dismantle the fear of difference that pervades Western society.

I found the concept of Body Phobia to be fascinating. As someone who is queer and disabled, western society's fear of the body and my own personal relationship with my own growing up in such a society is something I have struggled with and thought on intensely. That said, as someone who is not religious and was not raised in the same evangelical light as the author, the hyperfixation on religion kept me from connecting with this book.
I think there is a lot of value in the author''s message, though I don't fully agree with every sentiment. I simply am not the target audience for this particular take.

dy Phobia: The Western Roots of Our Fear of Difference (published September 17, 2024) by Dianna E. Anderson is, in many ways, exactly what the title says it is--a book about how, in 2024, so much of what is wrong with our world today can be traced back to the times when people only saw and experienced people who were similar to themselves. But it is so much more than that--Anderson, who is a nonbinary, queer, white writer with an evangelical history, dedicates each chapter of the book to a different aspect of our bodies and includes many of their experiences in their own body as well.

They pack a lot into the 127 pages of this book--from how many religions teach us that our bodies are sinful and to be discarded for the glories of heaven--to feminist theory about how some bodies--those not the default--are "marked"--and disability theory as well.

They discuss their own experiences of medical anti-fat bias and the intersection of their own gender dysphoria and fatness. They touch on disability theory and the effects of racism on the body, although there are many books by black and brown authors that do a better job. I did like how Anderson found the commonality between all of these different fears of our bodies.

The best section, I think, is Anderson's chapter on LGBT bodies, which is based on their own experience of growing up assigned female, the associated anxiety and dysphoria, and transitioning through hormones and surgery to nonbinary.

Finally, Anderson writes about how capitalism uses and discards our bodies, and how our fear of death in Western culture correlates with the fear of our bodies.

Although they have taken up many themes with Body Phobia, I think Anderson has done a good job of making these themes accessible and in showing how all of these issues are all rooted in fear.

I loved this book! I used to follow Anderson on Twitter (or they were in the same side of Twitter as me), so I was eager to get an ARC when I saw it on Netgalley. Anderson writes from the experience of being fat, trans, and white in Evangelicalism. The right reader for this book would be other people from the same evangelical or protestant American world.

I have always felt disconnected to my body, and this book explains how that may stem from my white evangelical upbringing.

Anderson argues that American WASP culture separated our body from soul (at least philosophically) and then made us afraid of the body. They outline the different aspects: religion, humanness, fatness, disability, race, LGBT, economics, and death.

This book helped me understand my lived experiences in a new way, and I think that it will be a new reference for me. Definitely worth ordering.

Thank you to Netgalley and Broadleaf for this ARC.

Thanks to NetGalley and Broadleaf Books for providing this title in exchange for an honest review!

“Body Phobia: The Western roots of our fear of difference” (2024) by Dianna E. Anderson is an exploration of the divide of body and mind that permeates culture and politics, particularly in USAmerican society, and seeks to categorize certain bodies as good or bad and impart moral judgement on the minds accordingly.

The book’s chapters are thus divided to focus on fatphobia, disability, race, queerness, the impacts of religion and capitalism on the notions of the body, our relationship to aging and dying bodies, and the body-mind integration. It’s woven throughout with the author’s life experiences as a non-binary person in a large body who was raised in evangelical Christianity and struggled with severe anxiety in their relationship with their own body.

While I’m not USAmerican, I think many of us in the Western world have a complicated relationship with bodies and the Otherness inscribed in those bodies, so I was very interested in this.

It was definitely a valuable book and it made me feel seen in some ways, even if my experiences have little in common with the author’s. However, it seemed more like a long essay blended with memoir than the socio-historical account I was expecting. In addition, religion was front and center here. That makes sense to a certain extent, because the roots of our complicated relationship with the body definitely lie with Christianity, and of course Protestantism in particular has a huge influence in USAmerican society even today, but the analysis felt narrowed down to religion, which the author admits is their area of expertise and interest, as at some points it veered out beyond Christianity.

So I would recommend it, but mostly if you have a particular interest in theology or don’t mind reading about it.

A concise look at what ultimately amounts to the American fear of difference, change, and the true freedom of living firmly in our bodies. Though the chapters explored different facets of this fear, they leaned towards examining each mostly through the lens of evangelical Christianity, which was very interesting. Highly recommend if you're looking for a brief but thorough overview of how religion has formed and stoked fears of difference throughout American history.

A sharp approach to the history of the body and the social, cultural, economic, political, and religious consequences of a material existence. I look forward to picking up a physical copy.

I would like to thank the Publisher for approving me for this ARC, via NetGalley, in exchange for an honest review.

Body Phobia is a book that sheds light on how Western culture hates the fact that people have bodies. It starts with a focus on the religious roots of the hatred, from a mostly evangelical cultural view, and moves out to the wider views of culture. It is more than just transphobia, it’s living with a body in an ableist society that doesn’t fit what culture deems “normal” or appropriate.

I was not expecting this to be as memoir as it was, and because of that, my enjoyment of the book was less. I did except personal antidotes here and there throughout the text, but for me this book was mis-marketed. I was expecting a more science-based argument and a lot less religious discussion. One of the positives I will say is that Anderson writes with a levelness that leaves out the bitterness a lot of ex-religious types write with. They are compelling in their arguments.

I would recommend this one to anyone who wants an overview of the issues surrounding fatphobia, transphobia, and discrimination of disabled bodies.

Ah this one. This is an important one.

The deep dive in why we fear (our) bodies and what having a body means is so well done!
The chapters go in very different but interesting directions.
All in all really a great book!

This book had potential, but the hyperfixation on religion throughout the entire thing really made it difficult for me to connect with the material presented.

Thanks to NetGalley and Broadleaf Books for the ARC!

It’s hard to be a body, but why does matter matter?

Dianna E. Andersons’s "Body Phobia" is a thoughtful and full-bodied primer on the American fear of embodiment, offering a unique look at the ways it is rooted in a legacy of Protestantism.

This is a deeply personal book, and Anderson excels at infusing a moving transparency into their conversation with scholarship. They introduce so many wonderful scholars like Anthea Butler and Sami Schalk, but they mediate every heady concept through the lens of their personal experience. We always see how these issues impact real lives. Dualism means nothing until readers understand how it caused the author’s panic attacks. This approach makes it a perfect book for people who might bristle at the density of queer theory or disability studies.

Without a a doubt, the aforementioned religious focus is the book’s defining quality. I suspect some readers will be a bit befuddled by how often Anderson addresses religion, whereas others will wonder why the book doesn’t center exclusively around it. The references to people like John Piper always feel like an unexpected interruption, but I think that’s appropriate. It highlights the subtle pervasiveness of religious thought in American culture.

When Anderson identifies parallels between criminalization of disability and the way it’s associated with original sin, it feels novel. When they draw attention to the devastating impact of framing weight as a marker of holiness, it’s resonant. When they point out how evangelicals view children as “tools in the broader culture war,” it’s an urgent call to awareness.

These points feel like interruptions precisely because they are such “minor,” seemingly innocuous beliefs; that is why the consequences are so dire.

Anderson’s arguments are compelling, but what’s even more remarkable is the grace and compassion with which they articulate them. They write with wisdom and seem to consciously avoid bitterness, which allows them to make substantial, pointed critiques in a way that could be received by even the most conservative readers.

While most of the book is excellent, the chapters that intersect most directly with Anderson’s own life are easily the strongest. For example, their explorations of transphobia and fatphobia fare better than the chapters on bodyminds under capitalism or racialization. These topics are still addressed thoughtfully and thoroughly, but they struggle ever so slightly with a wandering scope.

Regardless, "Body Phobia" is an exceptional book for readers who are just beginning to consider what it means to be a bodymind in space, and I’m grateful to Dianna Anderson for their work here.

From the title and description, I was not at all prepared for the amount of discussion revolving around religion. Dianna Anderson's look into fear of our own bodies was eye-opening and did need some mention of religion, don't get me wrong. It was the constant loop back to it that turned me off - I got the point the first 10 times the dichotomies stemming from religion were mentioned.

Had I gone into this book anticipating religion play a central role... Well, I just wouldn't have read the book, actually.

HOWEVER if you're at all interested in the ways religion has made us all afraid of our own skin, this would be a great book for you.

(When reading my review, it may be helpful to consider I grew up fairly religious (plain 'ol nondenom Christian), but am now... Idk. Not atheist. But also don't count on The Big Man Upstairs to hear and answer prayers. Or decide if I'm "worthy" of anything.)

Thank you Netgalley for the ARC and to the publisher for auto-approving me. This book is exactly in my wheelhouse. The author is white and non-binary. They use their own upbringing, as a former Evangelical Christian, and cite diverse sources to analyze prejudice in an intersectional way. Anderson argues that the US majority white, Christian culture's fear of the Other and the false mind-body dichotomy contribute to the marginalization of fat people, disabled people, and people of color. Personally, I usually focus on prejudice as hatred, not fear, but I do sometimes call prejudice fear too. This can be useful. As the author points out, fear of becoming fat and/or disabled or fear that one is LGBTQIA contribute to fatphobia, ableism, and anti-LGBTQIA hate. This often has deadly consequences, including disparities in medical treatment. No book can cover everything it mentions in depth, but the arguments are important, insightful, and made me think.

“Body Phobia” is an interesting look at how western (and largely Protestant Christian) culture has influenced how people perceive their bodies and more generally how society views human bodies, and how a fear of bodies who are different due to race/skin color, size, disability, sexual preference, and/or gender identity has impacted how society views and treats people who are “different.”

The most important lesson, which the author acknowledges took them a long time to understand, and which is still an ongoing process for them, is that your body is you, it is going to change, and that only you know what it is like to live as you. Therefore, you are the authority on you, and you should be making the decisions that are best for yourself, as you are the one living with the consequences.