Big Fat Imaginations
On the limits fatphobia imposes on possibility
The other day, I was sifting through messages on Instagram, something I do every month or so and I stumbled upon a message in response to a TikTok video I had shared earlier that day with a woman explaining how much a cat should eat in a day and then a cut to a fat cat saying, “Not today, partner.” It was a funny, charming little video that is even funnier if you have a fat cat. But this message said, “Let’s take dietary advice from roxane gay!” I was confused for a moment until I realized that this man, his name is Bill and he is a writer I am not familiar with, accidentally sent me a message intended for one of his little friends. I realized that he saw me posting a video about cat diets and was comfortable enough extrapolating that I was daring to offer diet advice and oh what a lark it would be to heed that advice from a fat woman.
I shouldn’t care about things like this. If you have any kind of visibility, of course there are people gossiping cruelly about you. We all gossip to one degree or another. But you would be surprised by the frequency with which people accidentally send me messages intended for someone else, where they are saying unkind things about me, my body, my writing, my life. It’s pathetic. If you’re going to be an asshole, be good at it, right? Intellectually, I know this is nothing I should waste my time or emotional energy on. But it’s hard to be intellectual when you are reminded of what some people really think of you when they aren’t smiling in your face and pretending to view you with anything more than disgust and contempt.
Some days I can shrug this kind of thing off and some days I can’t. I rarely talk about any of this because the reality is that most people think that I’m basically asking for it by being fat. They believe that if it bothers me so much, I should just lose more weight. The general attitude is, “What did you expect?” Stupidly, naively I suppose, I expect people to have better things to think about than me or my body. I expect people to mind their own business. I expect a modicum of decency. Clearly, I expect too much and it’s a damn shame how little is too much.
When I encounter fatphobia these days, I often think about Lizzo. There is a specific kind of rage she engenders. Lizzo is black, beautiful, fat, and confident. It enrages people who believe she should hate herself and remain out of sight. From the beginning of her career, Lizzo has contended with a public that more often discusses her body than her body of work, simply because they cannot contain or control their fatphobia. She has been the subject of derision, cruelty, and so-called humor, all directed at trying to tear a fat Black woman down because her body does not conform to their ideals.
Throughout her career, she has faced unspeakable vitriol for existing, for thriving, as a fat Black woman. During an interview, comedian Aries Spears, who himself is not thin, said, “I can’t get past the fact that she looks like the **** emoji.” He went on to discuss Lizzo’s appearance, health, and of course, offered a few idiotic thoughts about women’s empowerment. Trainer and known sadist Jillian Michaels, previously of The Biggest Loser, asked, “Why are we celebrating her body? Why does it matter? Why aren’t we celebrating her music? “Cause it isn’t going to be awesome of she gets diabetes.” In 2019, Boyce Watkins, a conservative economist said, “#Lizzo is popular because there is an obesity epidemic in America. Rather than encouraging people to do better, we are simply lying to them and telling them that they are just fine the way they are.” These are a handful of examples from a myriad. These people and countless others deem themselves authorities on Lizzo and her body and are absolutely unapologetic about airing their opinions, while bristling when they receive pushback.