This was exactly the book I needed forty years ago - and every day since. If you are fat, love someone fat, or exist in a body (of any size), please read this book. My review will be in quotes from the books, so that if you can't actually read the book, you can hopefully have some of the really important information it contains. It's a well-researched and also very personal account of fatphobia and oof, did it hit hard. I am so deeply grateful to Kate Mann and also to all of the authors that came before her and that informed her work - including the amazing Da'Shaun L. Harrison and Sabrina Strings and Roxane Gay.
"Since my early twenties, I have been on every fad diet. I have tried every weight-loss pill. And I have, to be candid, starved myself, even not so long ago.
I can also tell you what I weighed on any significant occasion from the age of sixteen onward. I can tell you precisely what I weighed on my wedding day, the day I defended my PhD dissertation, the day I became a professor, and the day I gave birth to my daughter. (Too much, too much, too much, and much too much, to my own mind then.) I even know what I weighed on the day I arrived in Boston-fresh off the plane from my hometown of Melbourne, Australia-to begin graduate school in philosophy, nearly twenty years ago. I had packed my scales with all of my worldly possessions in one of two overflowing suitcases. They were among the first things I unpacked, second only to my toothbrush.
In coming of age-and size-in a fatphobic society, I learned to avoid certain key opportunities, risks, and pleasures. I have been swimming just once since the age of sixteen. (I wore leggings and an oversize T-shirt.) I haven't been dancing since I was twenty. And nobody, save my husband and doctors, has seen the dimpled, stretch-marked backs of my knees over the same time period. (My wardrobe is approximately 80 percent leggings.)
So fatphobia has made me miss out on a lot in life. It has made me undertake a careful social calculus whereby the risk of being judged, scorned, and discredited for my fat body has often not been worth the potential benefits of putting myself out there. And so I have shrunk from public scrutiny."
"What if I accepted my own fatness and began to think through fatphobia?
As I did this, I became convinced that my own internalized fatphobia was but a hazy reflection of the fatphobia rampant in society. And I came to understand that what I hated was less my body than the way it made me vulnerable: to being put down and ridiculed and belittled. But I, of all people, recognize that the answer to bullying and abuse is not to alter the victims but instead to address the culprits and, ultimately, change the system."
"I began to hear, and use, the word "fat" not as an insult but as a neutral description of some bodies-as I do throughout what follows. I began to realize that fixating on people's weight, an infinitely gradable quality, was a perfect way to construct the pernicious social hierarchies that I'll argue underlie fatphobia. I began to view fatphobia as a serious, and underestimated, form of structural oppression. I began to understand that by perpetually trying to shrink myself, I had been complicit in this system. And I began to gather the strength and the tools to do what had long seemed impossible: to stop dieting, to stop obsessing, and to live peaceably with my body. I vowed to be, in a word, unshrinking.
It took a long time for me to get there. Once, in a fit of desperation, I left a voice message with a local weight-loss-surgery mill. (I never returned their phone call; they seemed a bit too eager.) There was even one final, mad, last-ditch diet in the interim that put me in real danger. Even now I have bad days. My relationship with my body remains a work in progress. But diet culture-which privileges thinness and insists that dieting is the means to it—no longer has its claws in me. And this book is partly a product of that mundane but hard-won victory.
For, as I've realized, our bodies are not the problem. Rather, the world is, so mired as it is in fatphobia."
"In any case, we can and must face the fact together that it's not fatness but fatphobia that is collectively plaguing us.
Fatphobia can be defined as a feature of social systems that unjustly rank fatter bodies as inferior to thinner bodies, in terms of not only our health but also our moral, sexual, and intellectual status. Fatphobia is thus partly a misguided ideology, or a set of false beliefs and inflated theories, that our culture holds about fat people: that we are necessarily un-healthy, even doomed to die of our fatness; that we are to blame for our own fatness, in lacking moral fiber or willpower or discipline; that we are unattractive, even disgusting; and that we are ignorant, even stupid. "1
Fat bodies thus lie on a continuum not only of weight but of value, according to this hierarchy. And the fatter one is, the more one is affected by fatphobia, all else being equal.
However, all else is not equal, because of other inequalities and injustices within the social world. Like all oppressive systems, fatphobia intersects with a gamut of others, including racism, sexism, misogyny, classism, ableism, ageism, homophobia, and transphobia. 2 And, as the fat activist Kate Harding has pointed out, it privileges "good fatties" -those who perform supposedly healthy behaviors, such as dieting, or who duly regard their own fatness as a failing over their more unruly, less apologetic counterparts. The less obedient you are, the less you get to speak out, according to the logic of fatphobia.
But speak out we must, and I want to start by identifying three common myths about the nature of fatphobia that this book will help to dismantle.
First, the idea that fatphobia is purely the product of individuals' biased attitudes, toward themselves and others, is deeply mistaken. Fatphobia is an inherently structural phenomenon, which sees people in fatter bodies navigating a different world, containing numerous distinct material, social, and institutional barriers to our flourishing. Even if everyone woke up magically free from fatphobic attitudes tomorrow, the world would need to change, sometimes in radical ways, to accommodate fat bodies and actively support us. However, it would also be a mistake to dismiss the interpersonal contempt and hostility faced by fat people as hence beside the point. Not only are these forms of prejudice hurtful and isolating, but the people who harbor them may be gatekeepers for vital institutional benefits and resources in healthcare, employment, and education, just for starters. We can thus ill afford to have such individuals be fatphobic, especially for the sake of those most vulnerable to oppression."
"Your body is for you, and the ways it has been impugned stem from the many people and practices and structures that have missed this fundamental idea, instead perpetuating the lie that your body is meant to please or serve or placate others. You may well feel insecure in a society structured around this lie and that, as Harrison says, is not a moral or personal failing? The world has to be remade; it has to serve you better. In particular, it must cease to enter you automatically into the most pointless yet prevalent of contests: beauty.
The relatively few philosophers who have taken up the question of how to challenge fat oppression have leaned heavily, in various ways, on the idea of reforming beauty standards. A. W. Eaton advocates trying to change our collective taste in bodies, in part by contemplating fat bodies depicted in art in ways that are arresting, pleasing, beautiful.30 More recently, Cheryl Frazier has drawn suggested lessons from the "fuck flattering" movement, in which fat fashion bloggers wear "unflattering" silhouettes as a form of what Frazier terms "beauty labor as resistance." Fat people thereby "redefine and reimagine beauty, creating space for themselves and other fat people," Frazier argues.
These discussions are subtle and important, and my own suggestion here is, I admit, blunter and less nuanced. Fuck beauty culture, along with diet culture. Burn it down. Raze it. For, as Tressie McMillan Cottom has persuasively argued, in discussing the anti-Blackness of beauty norms, beauty is never just a reflection of mainstream aesthetic preferences.
Rather, "beauty is the preferences that reproduce the existing social order"32 —and excludes people based on body type and skin color not by accident but by design, for profit. We can-not, I believe, modify this system to make it incrementally more just. Injustice is its point, its function, its raison d'être.
As McMillan Cottom puts it, "To coerce, beauty must exclude. ... It cannot be universal. "
I hence hold out hope for a future in which our current relentless beauty pageant has no more judges and not a single entrant. It is not that everybody wins or gets a participation trophy in the form of our collective studied neutrality.
There should be nothing in its place. There ought to be no contest. And that there is no contest, no judgment, does not mean there can be no appreciation. Go for a walk sometime: you can appreciate a leaf, a sunset, a dog, without ranking it against others or pronouncing it superior. There can be self-expression too; we may feel the most ourselves in particular incarnations. But dress and look how you want not in the name of any kind of beauty but for the sake of being the most yourself that you can presently imagine. Know that your imagination on this score may stretch and rupture. (Or not: bury me in my uniform of black skinny jeans and a shapeless stretchy tunic.)
True, we're a long way off from the total divestment from beauty and diet culture that I envisage. Many people will continue to wish in the meantime that their bodies conformed more closely to dominant, oppressive aesthetic standards. But there are real limits to the bodily changes one can make without serious repercussions."