Let’s first talk about why this is important–fat people are taught that we’re not fuckable. All oppressed people are taught to not take up space and that we should be as invisible as possible. When we try so hard to not take up space it’s actually very physically and psychologically disempowering.* In a society that doesn’t see fat bodies as valuable and the porn that celebrates diverse body size is considered fetish, most fat folks have to go through a ton of self work to empower ourselves enough to thoroughly enjoy sex.
There’s a lot of scaffolding that goes in to feeling free and embodied enough for body oppressed people to have an orgasm, it’s wonderful when work that centers fat pleasure arrives on the scene to help!
Nothing bums me out faster when I’m about to eat some food than someone commenting about food. Like this, “Oh I’m being SO BAD! I NEVER eat cupcakes!” Or “I really SHOULDN’T EAT THIS!” Or “I wish I could eat THAT but it would make me SO FAT!” Or “You’re lucky you can eat whatever you WANT I will blow up like a BALOON!!!”
So what do you do when you’re surrounded by the I’M SO BADs of the world?
When I’m in situations like that with people judging food I have a variety of responses. I’m pretty secure in my body and have a pretty deep analysis of the fatphobia in our culture so I’m pretty resilient to the commentary. I’m also a fat person whose reputation and activism often precedes her so I feel pretty confident piping up with something educational in the moment.
Here are some scripts that I employ…
I think what surprised me at first was the way in which some deep themes, like scarcity, or putting others’ needs first until I blew my lid, we’re not isolated to say, finances or romantic relationships. They were deep and everywhere. I had to show up for myself in a new and major way. And it was scary.
I was also surprised that eventually, I was happier. Again that was some “west coast woo” stuff that I was sure my Protestant Midwest working class cultural pride had no time for-that happiness linked to healthiness. But it was and is true. The happier I am the way healthier I am. Not that I don’t get sick anymore or don’t have MS. I do. But I thrive and shine much brighter in the times between flare ups.
My bestie Jacqueline Mary is disabled in a way where it is not readily apparent to the naked eye. Her arm was shattered in a bike accident a couple of years ago and the initial surgery restored only a small percentage of function in her arm. But because she still has her left arm and most people aren’t particularly observant, it’s not obvious right away that there’s anything different about it. She often has to tell people not to touch her arm, especially strangers in public, and sometimes people we know don’t even believe her and continue to poke, touch, even punch her in the arm because they think she’s joking. She’s also in a lot of chronic pain that has gotten worse over the last couple of months.
She posted the following note to Facebook and I really loved it. Not just because she’s my friend, but also because I thought it was an exceptional example of stating your needs and asking for help–I believe vulnerability is a sign of strength.