By Sarah Case

“Teaching kids to self-hate,” “give your child neuroses,” and “body fascism” are just a few of the Amazon.com tags already linked to Paul Kramer’s children’s book, Maggie Goes on a Diet, scheduled to hit the shelves in October.  Now it’s time for SPARK to — excuse the pun — weigh in on the sexism behind the book’s premise.

Maggie Goes on a Diet describes itself as the “inspiring story of a 14-year-old…transformed from being overweight to a normal sized teen who becomes the school soccer star.” The book is supposed to teach children the importance of eating in moderation and exercising — a lesson that many Americans need, given that 17% of children and adolescents in this nation are obese (and the number is rising).  But Kramer’s approach reinforces sexist messages that could be detrimental to the psychological and physical health of impressionable young women.

Although obesity affects boys and girls alike, Kramer’s depiction of Maggie’s struggle plays off of a narrow idea of what the teen girl ought to be: she must strive to be “normal” (which is, according to the book’s self-description, the opposite of overweight).  Maggie doesn’t go on a diet after meeting with her doctor or contemplating her reasons for overeating;  she diets because she is tired of being called “fatty and chubby” at school.  Instead of confronting the bullies or learning to tune out their cruelty, Maggie blames herself for the bullying.  Through dieting and working out, Maggie atones for her failure to conform and, as a result, is rewarded with popularity and soccer stardom.

The sexism underlying this story is epitomized by the book’s cover, which shows Maggie standing in front of a mirror and eyeing a pink party dress several sizes too small for her.  Maggie wants to lose weight not so that she will be healthy, but so that she can properly fulfill her duties as a female.  Since she has learned from her peers that she is not desirable as she is, she must work to become thin, and therefore desired.  It would be absurd to imagine a cover for Tommy Goes on a Diet showing an overweight boy looking wistfully at a slim tuxedo — so why portray a female protagonist this way?  Although Maggie’s eventual success as a soccer player is intended to show her empowerment, it is really beside the point: Maggie’s weight loss represents not a victory, but rather her defeat by negative external influences.

In response to complaints about Maggie Goes on a Diet, the author has said that he intended to help “children feel better about themselves, discover a new way of eating, learn to do exercise, try to emulate Maggie, and learn from Maggie’s experience.”  Emulating Maggie, however, is exactly what we should not encourage girls to do.

Dieting teaches children from an early age to view food as their enemy, potentially laying the foundation for eating disorders. Given that eating disorders in children under the age of 12 have tripled since 1980; we should be steering our children away from this mentality, not toward it.  Using promises of popularity and belonging to incentivize our children to stay thin can be just as harmful. The threat of ostracism due to some “defect” such as weight gain can drive girls to engage in self-destructive behaviors. Bullies will be bullies, and young girls often cannot discern whether criticism of their appearance is based on a medical need for weight loss or not.

While Kramer does not intend to give our children neuroses with Maggie Goes on a Diet, the book’s messages about girls and thinness conflict with our vision of a satisfying life for girls.  To truly empower girls, we should teach them to demand respect from others, to examine their behavior and its consequences, and to make choices that promote their health and happiness — not to get caught up, like Maggie, looking at themselves in the mirror.