Discovering Anderson’s Wintergirls through a Twitter Feed

​Discovering Anderson’s Wintergirls through a Twitter Feed by Skyler Russell

​Skyler Russell is a pre-service teacher at Brigham Young University, where she brings a unique interdisciplinary perspective to her work. With a robust background in molecular biology and neuroscience, Skyler applies rigorous STEM methodologies to her literary studies, fostering a deeper and more nuanced understanding of texts. Currently, she serves as an assistant researcher to Dr. Dennis Cutchins, specializing in culture and adaptation.

“I am thawing,” high school senior Lia Overbrook utters at the end of Laurie Halse Anderson’s 2009 novel Wintergirls--considered a landmark novel due to the startling accuracy of its portrayal of eating disorders in teens (278). It’s a hopeful note after a dark, intimate journey through Lia’s eating disorder. When I first came across Wintergirls, I was scrolling through Twitter and found a tweet that read: “triggering quotes from wintergirls... a motivation thread for edtwt” (@laylanoeat). Quote after quote from the novel follows in the 20-tweet thread, after which the author of the post claims: “There’s SO many more [quotes] but we’ll see how you like these” (@laylanoeat). Responses like “I’ve never been triggered like this before omg THANK YOU” and “guess my bmi!! reading wintergirls and need to be triggered” (@ghxstgxrl12) were my official introduction into the “pro-anorexic” content of Twitter subculture, eating disorder Twitter—or “edtwt.”

In her Goodreads Q&A from nine years ago, Laurie Halse Anderson explained that she wrote Wintergirls because: 

"Hearing from readers who were struggling with eating disorders made me want to write about their battle. Eating disorders have the highest fatality rate of any mental illness. I wanted to tell a story that would show people how devastating they are.” (Anderson) 

Essentially Anderson wrote this novel to demonstrate the heartbreaking impact of eating disorders and mental illness. However, these edwt posts demonstrate that these readers don’t echo Lia’s startling hope; they twist her story into a rallying cry against recovery. 

This disconnect sparked my interest and downward spiral into the intersection of pro-ana communities and pieces of literature like Wintergirls. And, this exploration ultimately raised the question: how do authors write for young adult audiences without actively harming the demographic they seek to represent? Though I still struggle with finding a clear answer, examining the authenticity in Wintergirls through the lens of the edwt subculture illustrates the complicated relationship between authorial intent and reader response as the text’s authentic portrayal of anorexia offers hope, as well as triggers among online communities struggling with or on the verge of an eating disorder.

First, let me share some background: While many factors contribute to the development and recovery of eating disorders, it’s undeniable that media influences cultural norms surrounding “bodily ideals” (Troscianko 4). Though media impacts body image in nuanced ways, gender undeniably plays a role. Girls’ identities, as they enter society, are disproportionately dictated by societal expectations and pressures (Hsu et al. 988-89). The resulting perfectionism from these expectations often leaves girls highly susceptible to image-based disorders (Haidt 156). While media can inspire hope and redirect these negative patterns of behavior, it can also reinforce and “enhance outbreaks” of mental illness (Boss 162).

In a study examining the impact of literature about individuals with eating disorders, it was found that “readers with a personal history of [the disorder] were more susceptible than others to the negative effects of eating-disorder fiction specifically on the dimensions of feelings about their body, diet, and exercise habits” (Troscianko 11). Instead of acting as a mirror to encourage recovery, eating disorder literature acts as a trigger for girls combating the effects of their disorder. Rather than uplifting emotionality, it creates a deficit—a surge of negative emotionality. Troscianko argues that the only true way to overcome an eating disorder is an active desire to “change” (5). While media, specifically literature, can provide hope for individuals struggling with their mental health, it’s often not the literature explicitly discussing the disorder that fosters that kind of hope (Troscianko 5).

​This creates a complicated relationship between authenticity and response. A Tumblr user once posed a question like this to Anderson, asking “Do you ever feel guilty that you wrote the pro-ana bible…full of 99% tips and tricks on how to deceitfully starve yourself?” (lovingwmnisrad-frommisstodr-main). Anderson disagreed with this statement but acknowledged the perspective, insisting mental health realities must be fully explored to inspire hope and that her novel has helped girls recover (Anderson). 

While I don’t doubt that some teens who have read Wintergirls have been inspired to recover, Lia’s thoughts largely echo the tweets found in communities like “edtwt.” This can be seen in one of Lia’s many obsessive thoughts surrounding every food she consumes: “diet soda (0) + lettuce (15) + 8 tablespoons salsa (40) + Hardboiled Egg White (16) = Lunch (71)” (Anderson 76). These align with edtwt posts like “constantly rechecking the nutrition facts” (@August_8_th) and “how much time I spend looking at foods I want to eat” (@bokucinana). Anderson’s portrayal rings authentic as Lia’s experience mirrors the thoughts of girls who have struggled with eating disorders, an authenticity both celebrated and weaponized by online pro-ana communities (see Figure 1.).

Wintergirls is a landmark YA novel for its accurate depiction of a girl who does not want to recover for most of the novel. But when communities like “edtwt” celebrate it as an inspiration for anti-recovery, it complicates the notion of authenticity and the role of the author. Authenticity is vital in literature, and what it’s left me thinking is that the intention of the reader is more critical than I ever realized. Anderson’s book isn’t for every reader, and that’s okay. Anderson wanted Lia to thaw, to heal. While her intention is clear, some readers’ intentions may be to stay frozen rather than thaw alongside her. It’s a tough spot for YA authors and readers alike: how do we interact with an authentic narrative without letting it become a trap for the vulnerable? I don’t have the answer, but Wintergirls shows that the tension between authentic depictions of mental illness and readers are high and that the answers aren’t easy.

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