Today I want to write about amputee devotees and people who experience Body Integrity Dysphoria (BID), sometimes referred to as BIID—Body Integrity Identity Disorder.
In 2017, about nine months after my amputation, I decided to create a YouTube channel connected to my Instagram account. I hadn’t been very active on Instagram—my last real post before that had been in 2014—but a few months after my amputation in 2016, I began posting again. By 2017, I launched a yoga-focused YouTube channel centered on being an amputee practicing yoga.
I started uploading videos of myself doing asana with one leg, without a prosthetic, and with my prosthetic. To my surprise, these videos gained thousands of views. My Instagram following grew, and I began receiving emails through my YouTube channel.
That’s when I encountered something completely new to me: “devotees.”
Until then, the only context in which I was familiar with the word “devotee” was religious, specifically in Hinduism. I had no idea the term was also used to describe people who are sexually attracted to amputees and people with debilitating physical disabilities. Very quickly, I was introduced to the world of amputee devotees through unsolicited emails offering significant amounts of money for custom videos meant to satisfy their fetish.
At first, I was shocked. Then briefly conflicted. Then angry.
Some of the requests were deeply unsettling and completely at odds with why I had created my platform in the first place. I wasn’t there to be sexualized. I was there to share movement, healing, and life after limb loss.
Soon after, devotees began appearing in my Instagram messages as well. At the time, my profile was public, and I believed I was connecting with fellow amputees or people seeking inspiration. Instead, I learned that a devotee is someone with a sexual attraction to amputees—a form of attraction often referred to as acrotomophilia.
As I dug deeper, I learned there are entire fetish subcultures centered on limb difference, often framed as “artistic” or “erotic.” These portrayals overwhelmingly focus on women. While I’m sure male amputees are fetishized as well, the imbalance is noticeable.
Around the same time, another group began reaching out to me: people with Body Integrity Dysphoria.
I didn’t know the term then, but I later learned that BID is recognized in the International Classification of Diseases (ICD), though it is not listed as a diagnosis in the DSM-5-TR (the diagnostic and statistical manual of mental health disorders). One reason for this is the profound ethical dilemma it presents—particularly around whether elective amputations should ever be considered as treatment.
BID involves a distressing mismatch between a person’s mental image of their body and their physical body. Someone with BID may have healthy limbs but feel that they are “not supposed to be there,” and may believe they would feel complete only as an amputee.
As someone who lives with CPTSD, anxiety, depression, and OCD, I have deep empathy for people who suffer from mental illness, even though BID is not officially considered a mental illness; to me, it most certainly is. I believe BID is real, rare, and profoundly distressing. There is limited research, unclear causes, and ongoing exploration of possible neurological links. I have compassion for anyone living with that kind of internal suffering.
That said, my compassion has limits—especially when people with BID reach out to me on social media without disclosure or consent.
Many of these messages came from men overseas who asked how I lost my leg and then went on to describe, in detail, their desire to amputate their own healthy limbs. Some described plans to intentionally injure themselves to force medical amputation.
I was horrified.
I didn’t ask to be involved in anyone else’s dysphoria or fetish. Being confronted with these messages—unsolicited—was deeply upsetting. I didn’t want to know these details, and I certainly didn’t want to be positioned as part of someone else’s fantasy or psychological distress.
At the time, social media communities often referred to people with BID as “wannabees,” a term I found troubling but also reflective of how invasive and relentless the messaging became. The longer I stayed visible online, the more I was bombarded.
Here’s where I draw a firm line.
I can hold compassion for mental illness while also saying this: it is not appropriate to contact amputees—many of whom lost limbs through trauma—and ask them to relive that trauma for your curiosity, dysphoria, or sexual interest. It is not acceptable to frame limb loss as something enviable or celebratory to people who never wanted to lose their limbs.
I also don’t believe in kink-shaming. Attraction is complex, and people are allowed to have preferences. But there is a difference between private attraction and actively fetishizing a marginalized group—especially when that fetish is imposed directly and without consent on the very people it objectifies.
When a disability becomes the sole focus of sexual interest, when boundaries are ignored, and when amputees are reduced to objects rather than people, it crosses a line.
Do what you do. Live your life. Seek help.
But do not involve unwilling participants—especially those whose bodies and lives have already been shaped by loss, trauma, and survival.
Some things do not need to be shared. And they certainly do not need to be shared with the object of someone else’s fetish or dysphoria.
This is the reason I deleted my YouTube channel. I also took a six-year break from Instagram, and I’ve just recently returned. I have weeded through my followers and deleted those who were not respectful of my boundaries.
Living Alone With Limb Loss 
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