I’ve been reading a good amount of articles about Lizzo. Many of the pieces are commentary or a response to commentary about her weight as it correlates to her talent.
Some, like Dr. Boyce Watkins, have argued that her popularity is purely tied to a national obesity epidemic. Others see the “Truth Hurts” star as a unicorn, breaking archaic beauty standards. However, Lizzo herself has made it clear that she doesn’t want to be regarded as “brave” for simply existing. Like clockwork, the word "fatphobic" always seems to show up, and honestly — I never want to write it.
Why do I have such an aversion to "fatphobia" or, more specifically, using the word "fat" to describe Black women? As a Black woman, especially as one with Southern roots, the casual classification of “fat” is not only foreign to me, this terminology also appears heavily established through an oversimplified and unnecessarily harsh white gaze.
In fact, the assessment for obesity is often considered culturally biased — as it should be. The measuring stick for the standard is implicitly tied to the average weight of white men and women. However, the Center for Interdisciplinary Research in Women’s Health published a 2009 study that found even when comparing women of the same size, body fat for a given BMI can differ based on race.
That said, these standards generally have not affected Black women’s self-image. Research has even suggested that Black women are more confident than any other group of women. In a survey by Glamour and L’Oréal Paris, one Black respondent eloquently summed up the general sentiments shared by many Black women.
“Based on what we go through as a minority group, we have insecurities, but we try not to let them damage our overall self-esteem,” she shared.
We know the game is rigged, so we’ve long-decided not to play it. However, something about this wide-scale use of “fatphobia” in relation to everyone regardless of racial and historical context implies that Black peoples’ moratorium on buying into white women’s weight standards may be changing.
I tried to discover where the terminology fatphobia came from and who coined it. I didn’t find a definitive answer, but I did uncover a 2014 article from Huffington Post contributor Kitty Striker.
“I mean, we laugh at fat jokes, discuss at length banning fat marriage, make comments about how fat people should exercise or kill themselves. We may be threatened with murder for making a documentary on fatness,” Striker said.
Culturally, I cannot relate to her perspective. Many of us, our mothers, grandmothers, aunts, teachers, favorite cousins and best friends are not a size six or even a size 12. The Black community at-large does not threaten to kill them/us. Unlike the recent renaissance in mass media of white plus size entertainers gaining visibility, Black women who aren’t the size of a thimble have never been scarce in spearheading imageries that depicted them as sexy, confident and normal. Furthermore, Black people have consumed these images without a second thought and few, if any, think pieces.
Queen Latifah starred as romantically desired and dynamic media executive Khadijah James in the television show Living Single from 1993 to 1998. It’s arguably one of the best sitcoms ever and the inspiration for white media darling Friends. Standup comedy OG Luenell has been showing her ass — literally — for decades (a fact she even recently reminded Lizzo about). We watched for years as Oprah fought with her weight and was culturally reprimanded when Black folks thought she "got too skinny.” The original natural woman herself, Aretha Franklin, frequently exposed ‘the girls’ at a moment's notice. Franklin did so while shimmying, unbothered, on stage.
Lizzo’s body type is not foreign to me or Black people in general – nor do I fear or despise it. What is everyone going on about?
Maybe because the diaspora at large understands that our bodies and beauty metrics are so vastly different from European norms, we’ve introduced an array of substitutes for the more westernized slur of “fat.”
Big-boned, thick, solid, chubby, big and the more sexualized BBW, are just a few phrases that Black people use colloquially. In popular culture, Black art frequently praises the woman with some “meat on her bones.” Last year, I found that I’d gained weight after an extended stay at home. A childhood friend’s Aunt, who I hadn’t seen in years, stopped me in the grocery store and praised me for, “finally starting to fill out like a woman” — I'm in my early thirties.
In my younger years, when I had better knees, every late-night dance party played the Baltimore Club classic “Watch Out For Da Big Girl.” It was an unspoken rule that if you did not consider yourself a big girl, you had to relinquish the floor. The things that would happen when that song played, would make Lizzo’s controversial, courtside twerk look like a conservative two-step. In fact, Lizzo pays homage to the 2001 cut nightly during her set.
YouTube | Rhizome Dev
Of course, our experiences are all our own and it’s our duty to tell our stories. I can’t pretend that I’ve never heard the word "fat" hurled at a Black woman I cared about in hopes to wound her. There’s been no shortage of actors, typically male, grossly altering their appearance to belittle big women in exchange for cheap and crude laughs (a la Eddie Murphy’s Rasputia character). Nor can I deny that a litany of health risks are associated within our community due to traditional diets, genetics and lack of emphasis on physical activity. I can’t say that I’ve ever been deeply embarrassed about my weight.
What I can say is that the negativity is balanced with the acceptance that culturally we are fuller than European standards require. Also, recently it appears that when we use European language and sentiments to describe Black bodies, we implicitly invite white people’s commentary and analysis. Such is evidenced when Jillian Micheals and Buzzfeed host Alex Berg used Lizzo’s body as a centerpiece of a discussion.
Many Black women have begun embracing the self-descriptor “fat” to promote body positivity. Lizzo has provided an opportunity for some Black women to confront the shame surrounding their own bodies. Chicago femcee CupcakKe recently, revealed her new body after water fasting for a month. She was instantly chastised by social media activist Jameela Jamil, who was then immediately dragged by Black Twitter for not understanding the nuances surrounding weight and body image for Black women.
Removed quote tweet as their followers informed me this person is emotionally fragile. So a more delicate approach is needed. So please just don’t try/promote long term water fasts. They’re really dangerous and the weight loss is very temporary, the terrible side effects aren’t❤️
— Jameela Jamil ???? (@jameelajamil) November 18, 2019
When I was little, I used to watch my mother do her makeup and get ready to go out. Often, she would look at her pant size and comment on how her waist had grown, never quite being able to shake off the baby weight from five or six years ago. She’d sigh, and say to herself aloud how she wanted to get back into single digits instead of the mid-teens. I always thought she looked beautiful. I used to tell her so, she would smile at me and then put on her red lipstick.
We are our sister’s keepers. As a forever student, if Black women who are promoting self-acceptance tell me that “fatphobic” is appropriate to use, I will. Although I'll likely cringe on the inside, and I’ll never call you fat.
