FIERCE FEATURES: Plus Size by Mekdela
Plus-Size
By: Mekdela
Sometimes I think the most American thing about me is that I am considered 20 –30 pounds overweight (according to the racist one-size-fits-all measurement, BMI or Body Mass Index. Seriously, whose bodies do you think it is based on?) I am sometimes shocked to hear that the average American woman is now my size—a size 14 in clothing (more recently, the average American woman’s size has gone up to a 16–18, according to Forbes). But then I feel a sense of belonging and community even though my body type appears to be in the minority in the California cities I have been to or lived in. Growing up, my immigrant parents tried to nag me into losing weight, for social reasons I suspect, but under the guise of health. They would encourage me to eat less, a single apple for dinner, or not to eat at all. I think that this is the only time that I have ever felt ashamed of my body and a pressing urge to lose weight and obtain a “normal” BMI (again, BMI is not an exact science and what is “normal” varies for different bodies). But for the most part, I have embraced my curvy, busty body and who I am because being like the majority has never been high on my list of priorities. If I was going to be unique in this way, then by gosh, I was going to own it.
For me, being plus-size means de-prioritizing society’s beauty ideals and celebrating people in different and often targeted bodies like mine. It means celebrating our inner beauty and strength in addition to reclaiming our outer appearances. It means taking [A2] insults from complete strangers and finding the fortitude and composure to keep moving through a world not made to accommodate us. It means building a community with other people that have been othered in this way and supporting them as well as receiving support from them. When I was in high school, I auditioned for a 2010 beauty pageant, and my introduction was “I want to become the Rose Queen so that I can be a role model for other plus-size women of color and change the world.”
I love following plus-size fashion magazines, pages, and models on social media and finding the latest trendy styles and outfits that fit my body. I feel a sense of belonging and community with other plus-size women because I understand how our sizes are stigmatized and how that hinders us in several aspects of our lives. Not that long ago, it was very difficult to find clothes in plus sizes, and plus-size clothing did not have the same quality, tailoring or style as straight-size clothing (straight-size clothing encompasses women’s sizes 0-12 and plus-size clothing is size 14 and up). According to Plunkett Research, 70% of American women are a size 14 or larger, but only 18% of the clothing sold in 2016 was considered plus-size. Even today, clothing stores (including plus-size retailers) do not sell plus-size clothes that are as fashionable and well-tailored as straight-size clothes. This is due to sizeism or discrimination against larger bodies and a bias in favor of smaller bodies that embody Western beauty ideals. I have felt this discrimination most acutely in the dating arena and I’ve noticed how it has affected other plus-size women.
I have seen how White women, who are the standard of beauty in American society, are highly desirable and coveted, provided they have thin bodies. I’ve noticed how White women that are plus-size do not receive this same status of ultra-desirability by virtue of their larger bodies. My solidarity with plus-size White women is due to sizeism, fatphobia (revulsion or hatred directed toward fat people), and how they shape the ways we navigate the world. This is coming from a plus-size Black woman from an immigrant African background, who is marginalized in several other aspects. But sizeism is the common ground that makes me feel at home in the plus-size community. However, I soon discovered that sizeism and fatphobia do not affect everyone equally.
In 2015, there was a cultural shift. Lane Bryant launched its “I’m No Angel” social media campaign featuring six plus-size models all around the average American woman’s size at the time, or size 14–16. The campaign featured plus-size models Marquita Pring, Ashley Graham, Candice Huffine, Victoria Lee, Justine Legault, and Elly Mayday. As per usual, I was delighted to see my body type represented and very supportive of this campaign and the ideas it espoused, such as ‘beauty comes in all sizes.’ After this campaign, there was an explosion of plus-size representation in the mainstream media, and not just from the familiar outlets I followed. However, it largely came in the form of Ashley Graham’s career as a plus-size model taking off. Before this, the plus-size magazines and outlets I followed showcased diverse representations of plus-size women from size 14 to 28 and beyond. I was seeing Black, Brown, and White plus-size models in my social media feeds. But in the mainstream media, there was and continues to be only one representation of plus-size women—relatively smaller White women with hourglass figures, namely Ashley Graham. Ashley Graham represents the most privileged kind of plus-size woman—White and smaller at a size 14–16. I can acknowledge my privilege as someone with a size 14 hourglass figure—I am able to shop in straight-size stores like Forever 21 and Target, and I fit into the size large; although I have the distinct impression that size large clothing was not made for my body. I can also shop at plus-size stores like Torrid and fit into the smallest sizes. The mainstream media’s focus on Ashley Graham worries me because it has created a new beauty ideal that is pretty similar to the preceding (and ongoing) one—plus-size but only the smallest sizes, 14–16, and White women. This results in the erasure and the loss of the representation of plus-size models who are women of color, bigger than a size 14–16, and who don’t have hourglass body shapes.
The body positive movement was created by plus-size women, many of whom are Black like me, with the goal of creating a more inclusive society. However, the body positive movement quickly became co-opted by corporations and marketed toward plus-size women with a very specific look (see above). Even the way we talk about fat is geared towards women—it is slowly becoming more socially acceptable to be a curvy woman and to have body fat. While it’s true that women, and especially women of color, tend to have curvier bodies and are more strictly held to beauty standards than men, the body positive movement should be more inclusive of people of all genders, including gender nonconforming people. I want to acknowledge whom the body positive movement is completely neglecting—plus-size people that are not women. I see representation of plus-size men and male models here and there, but they are otherwise largely invisible. I think this goes back to gender roles in which women are allowed to have emotions, feelings, and insecurities about their bodies (and therefore are stereotyped as weak) and men are expected to be stoic, strong, and providers. Men should be allowed to have, process, and show their emotions just as freely and this includes body image issues. Plus-size gender nonconforming people and men deserve more space and platforms to discuss how our society’s body ideals affect them and for them to change these ideals.
Sizeism and fatphobia in the U.S. do not end at a lack of representation in the media or discrimination in the dating arena, although these issues are just as important. Sizeism is being unable to fit into the clothes at most stores because they only sell straight-size clothes that reflect society’s body ideals. Sizeism is having no choice but to shop at plus-size retailers like Torrid and Lane Bryant and buying clothes that are way overpriced; it’s being charged significantly more money because your body is seen as less desirable. Sizeism is job discrimination or being less likely to be hired for a job. Sizeism is being refused treatment by a doctor or being misdiagnosed because your weight is assumed to be the (only) problem. When looking at the big picture, it becomes clear how sizeism and fatphobia impact our everyday lives.
I would also like to acknowledge that the U.S. clothing industry is couched in neocolonialism and neoliberal racism. Most of the clothing sold in the U.S. is created in sweatshops here and abroad that abuse, exploit, and severely underpay people of color, mostly women of color, in the Global South. This is a huge issue that reflects the inequitable flow of money in the U.S. clothing industry, the larger American society, and the world. While I wish to see our society tackle fatphobia wholeheartedly, we can simultaneously advocate for just payment of cloth-makers, safe and healthy working conditions, and against the exploitative tactics of fast fashion and capitalism.
This is an excerpt from Mekdela's book, “Plus-Size: A Memoir of Pop Culture, Fatphobia, and Social Change.” Buy it!:
Barnes and Noble: Plus-Size: A Memoir of Pop Culture, Fatphobia, and Social Change by Mekdela, Paperback | Barnes & Noble® (barnesandnoble.com)
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