A Story of Recovery:

Black People Don’t Get That Small

I’m 47 years old and have been in FA for 8 years. Upon entering the rooms the first thing I noticed was that there weren’t a lot of people who looked like me.

I’m of African American descent. My journey in FA began with two Caucasian sponsors. My first sponsor guided me through the introductory phases of recovery which aided in a 60 lbs. weight loss. Then she broke her abstinence. This troubled me greatly, I had a fearful uneasiness that surely I’d lose my abstinence since the person who was helping me wasn’t able to sustain it.

While attending an A.W.O.L (a way of life—a detailed study of the 12 steps) I approached a fellow whom I respected. She was intelligent, beautiful, spiritually grounded (a pastor in fact), at a healthy weight and again Caucasian. It didn’t matter to me, she had what I wanted. She offered recovery suggestions and eagerly I responded.

My weight was progressively coming off. I’d never experienced anything like this in all my endeavors. Eventually the scale read 150 lbs. WOW!! A 75 pound weight loss. Even more exhilarating was that this was my high school weight!! A time in my life when I was most comfortable in my skin. I can get on maintenance now, I thought. My sponsor suggested a goal weight of 120 lbs. Aghast; I retorted; “in my culture we don’t get that small! Our men like hump and bumps.” She recommended I speak with my physician and ask what my optimal weight should be for my 5”4’ frame. This answer brought me some comfort as I was confident that a medical professional would certainly substantiate my notion.

At my next appointment the doctor gave me a weight range of 104-140 pounds. I could live with a weight of 140 lbs. Gleefully, I phoned my sponsor with this accurate information from my doctor self-assured that she would be ok with my weight being in the latter of the range. To my chagrin, she maintained that 120 lbs would be ideal for my age and build. My quest for another sponsor began the moment I hung up the phone.

During an outreach call to an African American fellow in program, I “shared” my experience, seeking her empathy. After much venting I eventually got around to asking her if she had any slots available. To my relief she did. She stated that she would talk to her sponsor about taking me on. We concluded the call, agreeing that we would speak again after the discussion with her sponsor. The next day the fellow phoned and asked for me in a jovial tone. She said; “you won’t believe this, my sponsor is your sponsor!” “NO WAY!!!”  I screeched. Ok, Ok higher power….I hear you…. Let Go and Let God.

In the next conversation with my sponsor she challenged me to look for some people within the African American community that were mentally, physically and emotionally healthy. In my search I wasn’t able to personally identify anyone who did not have at least one of the health issues that culturally plague so many: high blood pressure, high cholesterol, obesity, and diabetes. I surrendered. I obtained the goal weight. I didn’t die and wasn’t kicked out of the African American race. It turned out that 120 was too low for my frame. Today at 132 lbs. I’m grateful to be a healthy example for the still suffering food addict that looks like me.