New research shows "fatphobia" is so ingrained in society that even medical professionals aren’t immune. Why does this form of discrimination continue? And can it be resisted, even internally? Michelle Duff talks to those pushing for bodies to be embraced, no matter the size.
I stood on the scale at the gym. I was heavier than last week; than last year. I looked at the number, calculating how much I’d have to lose to get to my “ideal weight”– a number plucked from my past, a weight I haven’t been for years, even decades. That day I spoke to a friend, who said she also has an arbitrary goal weight, also from when she was much younger, pre-kids. But what was going to happen if we ever got to that number, we asked each other? Did we even really want to, or had we just spent a lifetime being told we should? Does being “thin” mean being happier?
No, it most certainly does not, says clinical psychologist Penelope Kokot Louw, who has spent the past several years interviewing psychologists around the country about their attitudes towards fat people. Fat bodies aren’t the problem – but diet culture and the way we have been taught to think about them is, to the point that even those in charge of our wellness can be biased. “Fatness is a taboo topic even in therapy, the one place you think it would be safe to talk about anything it’s not,” Kokot Louw says. “The narrative that it’s ‘abnormal’ is out there, and psychologists don’t have the ways of talking or the thinking to escape this.”
Studies have shown those with fat bodies face discrimination in a multitude of ways; including accessing healthcare, public spaces, fashion, education and employment.
I’ve internalised societal ideals about body size, but I also have thin privilege – as a “straight sized” person, I’ve never had surgery denied because of my size, for example, or been declined residency, or struggled to fit into an airplane seat. But those are all realities for fat people in our society.
It hasn’t always been this way. Throughout history, all kinds of bodies were accepted – fat was once associated with wealth, and status – until around the 19th century, where an “ideal” body type emerged. Perhaps unsurprisingly, it was thin, white, and able-bodied, in line with the colonial project. “People who were different to this “white norm,” very much became othered,” Kokot Louw says. “It became a cultural value.”
Body mass index: a 'blunt tool'
In more recent years, what Kokot Louw calls “healthism” has been co-opted to maintain this ideal. As an example, she cites a fixation on Body Mass Index (BMI), which many now agree is a problematic measure developed in the 19th century by a statistician who was trying to establish the idea of an "average" man. “It wasn’t based on the proportions or dimensions of a woman, or a person of colour. It’s a blunt tool but some people say it’s ‘still quite useful,’ but is it?” Kokot Louw asks.
“Actual determinants of health have to do with a whole bunch of things, some that aren’t as easy to measure. Very thin people within a ‘normal’ BMI can be very unhealthy indeed. And yet, these ‘risk factors’ have become an excuse to discriminate against people in large bodies.”
In her PhD research, Kokot Louw found psychologists would assume patients were “comfort eating” to mask trauma or had some kind of disordered eating or unhealthy relationship with food, without actually talking to them about it. “They assume that being in a fat body impacts their wellbeing but they don’t check this, because they don’t know how to do it in a way that’s not insulting or disrespectful.”
Stigma as a result of being fat (this word has been reclaimed by the fat acceptance movement as a simple descriptor, not an insult) does have health impacts, yet avoiding this topic has a silencing effect. “Psychologists are trying to ignore the fact you’re fat because they don’t want to shame you, but then they can’t talk about your body, they can’t talk about the way the world treats you because of your body, the stigma and discrimination that affect you. It’s like when people say ‘we don’t see colour,’ they’re ignoring the impact of racism on people.”
Fat liberation is described by activist and author of the New York Times bestseller Your Body is Not an Apology Sonya Renee Taylor as a political ideology, begun by queer people and women of colour to challenge patriarchal ideals around body size. We’re not talking about body positivity here, with its toxic messages about having to love your body, so often monetised on social media. Instead, fat liberation aims to create a neutral space for all bodies, and expose the systems that oppress them. In New Zealand, wāhine Māori and Pasifika women like MahMah Timoteo, Meagan Kerr, Siobhan Tumai, and Ashlea Gillon are among those leading this push towards body acceptance, with hashtags like #decoloniseyourbody.
Pushing back against the thin-obsessed status quo is a lifestyle, not a trend, says designer Sarah-Jane Duff, the owner of plus-size label Lost and Led Astray and founder of Fat Yoga. For example, featuring plus-size models on runways for “size diversity” was fashionable several years ago, but a look at this year’s Fashion Week statistics shows progress is stalling; the latest Vogue size inclusivity report found the big brands used fewer plus-size models, and of the 8800 looks presented across 230 shows, 0.8 per cent were plus-size.
Duff says discrimination against fat bodies happens “on the daily,” and is more acceptable than other forms. “People think it’s okay to have an opinion and talk about a fat person’s body in a way that they wouldn’t for other bodies.”
With her activism and in her brand, Duff tries to imbue women with confidence. When Duff went to sit her motorcycle licence theory test recently, she got into conversation with the female AA employee, who told Duff she had been too scared to sit the test herself because she was worried she wouldn’t fit into the bike. “I was like well, you can, but how terrible, thinking you’re not going to fit into things. I’m confident enough that I can ask for a table to be moved out in a restaurant, or for a new seat. But it’s taken me a long time and when it’s constantly around you, any kind of unlearning is just hard.”
When it comes to fashion, a lot of plus-size women won’t see the value in spending money on themselves, either by buying cheap things in the hope that they will fit into a smaller size later, or not shopping at all. Some who come to Fat Yoga have never stepped into a gym. “Why would they? It’s a space that’s literally against you. When they come into our community they often get quite emotional. When you turn up to something and expect to be judged it’s pretty amazing not to be in this space.”
Duff says having fat friends, not engaging in any conversation about changing her body, and following fat activists online has made a huge difference to her mindset. “There are bodies that look like mine, move differently like mine. The more we embrace that, the happier everyone will be.” In the meantime, she’s not waiting for the world to catch up; she’s just finished designing her own raincoat, having found it impossible to buy one to fit. “I find it really infuriating, so we just have to change it.”
That’s something Kokot Louw thinks we can all do, starting with ourselves. “I’ll never comment on a person’s body, I don’t gossip about people’s weight, I have cut diet talk out of my life. I won’t talk about what I feel like about my body in front of my children,” she says.
“There’s lots of ways of talking about health that have nothing to do with what your body looks like, but what it allows you to do. You can’t love yourself and hate your body – you are your body, and for me, it’s about cultivating a sense of peace with that.”
Michelle Duff is a writer based in Wellington.
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