How does detoxification work for the "off standard" person?

This is not my first attempt at detoxification; I first tried to detoxify back in 1996 through research on the subject using mainly Dr Gary Null's publications, among many others. Yesterday I spoke to a friend who agreed to go through the process with me at the top of the new year. We are going to use something called "master cleansing" which entails 9 days of raw fruits and vegetables combined with an "elixir" made up of lemon, 100% maple syrup and a little cayenne pepper in large glasses of pure water. Here's the thing: we are urban African-Americans. It sounds stupid. Right? What does being urban, let alone of a particular race, have to do with detoxification? Well, nothing. Except, I noticed my previous attempts at detoxification caused a kind of havoc that most people merely relate with the "side effects" of cleansing. Whatever willpower I had dissipated so quickly, I merely dismissed the project as too rigid and severe for "my type." Since then I have tried various diets and nutrition regiments, always returning to my beloved burgers, fried chicken, fries, and coffee, and always blaming myself for lack of discipline and willpower. The end results were always the same: shame and humiliation followed by excessive weight gain. As usual, I talked myself out of the shame and humiliation part, but I was left with the unhealthy feeling and, of course, the fat.

A few days ago, channel 11 news aired a segment on self-perception and obesity. According to the news anchor, African-Americans suffer significantly more risks of health complications due to obesity because of illusory self-perceptions that do not register the reality of being overweight. In other words, AA tend to think that a little "junk in the trunk" is a good thing. I can't speak for all AA, but I know where I come from, America's obsession with weight loss bordered on the ridiculous, if not absurd. It is not that my community did not have its fair share of eating disorders and obsessive dieting, but in the end, "thin" was considered terrifying and not at all desirable. To this I add, healthy was considered visually obvious in a body that looked more like the actors and actresses in the 1930s. Not fat, but not skinny either. Signs that you had food and were eating were signs of financial, emotional, and spiritual well-being. Skinny just looked like death. Period. At the age of 18, when America's obsessive desire to meet (and beat) the numbers on a doctor's chart told me that my five foot eight frame should weight between 135 and 160 pounds, my 170 pounds yielded compliments from my community. When I dropped 25 pounds, another culture gave me the "high five," while my community sucked in their breaths and exclaimed, "what's wrong?!" I have to admit, not only did I hate the process of losing the weight and the burden of keeping it off, I did not think I looked better. My ass was flat, my face was gaunt (on a thin face, my features looked all out of proportion), and most importantly, I did not think about anything else. I did not feel better. Did not desire anything else. Did not enjoy life more. In a word, the doctor's chart did not promise a better, healthier girl, but, rather, a better looking girl to one group, but a miserable person to herself. So what's the problem?

My community cared about health; in fact, health and nutrition were ingrained in the culture. As an American child, Ronald McDonald was the only cook I wanted in the house; my parents, and grandparents insisted on oatmeal, rice, meat, salad, beans, milk, and the yearly laxative. While this was good, the food was made with white rice and flour, and always buttered or cooked with corn oil. I understand this is "very bad." Adding insult to injury, I was bombarded with "Africans-Americans are more likely to die of high cholesterol, diabetes, high blood pressure, etc." In fact, the whole science community and their preoccupation with "what's wrong with the blacks" plummeted me with "poorer academic scores," "poorer diets," "poorer financial opportunities," "dangerous social environments," etc. etc. In an uncanny barrage of "you are fucked up and need special assistance," my community offered up a small glimmer of hope: "at least you're healthy." But now "the scientists" have discovered this too is a dangerous illusion. I'm not only fat, I am psychological trained to fail to register the reality of my obesity. JESUS CHRIST!

The reason this detoxification is a cultural experiment is because I want to know whether the standard body that is used in medical offices, "the ideal healthy European body," really registers as a universal body par excellence. My grandfather died of heart failure; he had diabetes, high cholesterol, and high blood pressure; he was 94. Grandmother had multiple illnesses too; she died the youngest in her family at age 89. Could the American Health Association have helped my grandparents live to see their 100th birthdays? And is that the point?

The promise of detoxification includes a positive outlook; a happier, healthier, and more energetic person; a better adjusted individual who is better able to concentrate and fulfill his/her goals. I won't argue that it's worth the pursuit. But the feeling of "well-being" may translate to a feeling associated with tremendous loss for my friend and I. It isn't fair to assume that this is merely holding on to "poor health habits" and toxic chemicals in the body; that is a very simplistic view of the relationship to loss. I remember feeling weak then overwhelming "energetic," a feeling that made me seem more out of control and vulnerable than better able to cope with my environment. I want to journal our experience to understand what, exactly, do we go through when we "detoxify." In other words, what is the nature of our "toxicity?" What is our relationship to food? And how much of that relationship is laced with historical cultural tensions? Are the scientific physical benefits of the pursuit of "healthy" able to withstand a contentious relationship between bodies? And can the pursuit of individual health coexist with communal attitudes that foster shields against the ravages of a social identification that historically reduces the AA to bodies ignorant of science and philosophy?

My expectations are TOO HIGH! I know. And, no doubt, the promoters of detoxification will come back with, "its not a cure all." I hope this long analysis does not imply that this is what this project is about. I could care less about that. Its about how we address health and our scepticism of American/European culture in general. We want slimmer and healthier bodies. And we are driven to read the books that persuade us to embark on a journey that begins with the body and, hopefully, ends with the soul. But, I don't want to adopt an ideology and run with it; sooner or later, 36 years of training will creep up and struggle with the process, especially when feeling weak. The guards of my soul will surface, undifferentiating temporary physical weakness with vulnerable weakness, and I will think that it is my time to "be strong" again. How to trust this information, this ideology, is the task at hand. I hope it works. I really do.