CONTENT NOTE: the writer uses the word “fat” as a neutral descriptive term—like tall, blonde, or Deaf. She warns readers to be careful with that word in public though. Most of the world still hears it as an insult. That deserves more discussion, too. Also, allusion to ableist language (in context)
He had taken yoga classes from me nearly twenty years ago and we just ran into each other in a store. He noticed that I’ve gotten fatter and slowed down a bit. (We were walking, so he could see my limp.) He was happy to see me; we took a moment to catch up.
First, let me be clear that I was always fat. I was fat and athletic, fat and strong, fat and graceful. I was a stereotype-buster when it came to the myth that fat people don’t exercise and can’t know enough to teach anything related to the body. Now, I’m a fat(ter) 55-year-old lady with a limp. Arthritis and a few other issues have slowed me down. That yoga student was jovial; I don’t think he meant to disparage me when he looked me up and down and said, “Wow, you were a really great teacher. So impressive. I guess you’re not teaching anymore though.”
He said it in that “I guess you don’t run marathons these days” “joking” way that someone might say to a wheelchair user. I mean “obviously” you can’t participate in a marathon because you can’t run. Neither comment is funny. Of course, marathon athletes can move it forward in a whole lot of ways. And yoga? “Hey!” I said. “It sounds like you haven’t taken enough classes if you think yoga’s about the body. Of course I still teach. My practice looks different though. I’ll bet yours does, too.”
He chuckled and agreed that his body isn’t what it used to be. No one’s body is the same after twenty years, but he may have just been trying to cover his embarrassment. For all I know, he might have the strength and power I last saw in his body. But why would this matter?
It matters precisely because fat stigma limits people—and not just fat people, though obviously we are the most impacted. Like ableism, it limits all of us. And it’s not just that people don’t love their bodies enough! Stigma is a problem at the unconscious symbolic level. That is, bodies already carry meaning. Of course, many fat (and disabled) people are active and do regular stuff day in, day out. But because the very sight of a large body carries deeply embedded stereotypes, exceptions must be made.
Those stereotypes limit slender people as well. Many who are not fat or disabled also don’t enjoy being outside in a bathing suit, being in photographs, or eating a slice of pie in front of others. We can all be a bit more free by removing stigma on everyone.
I became the fat unicorn—capable, graceful, athletic. In short, impressive to most because fat hatred is the rule of the land and fat people, despite being regular human beings, are not supposed to be smart, interesting, sexy, into fitness, etc. My default category, in the eyes of most onlookers, is fat, lazy, “unintelligent,” and undisciplined. I can opt out of those things, temporarily, through conventionally “praiseworthy” behavior.
But what about that limp? Sociologist Erving Goffman helped us to understand “spoiled identities” in the 1960s. Some traits limit a person’s social chances temporarily, others more permanently. For instance, not all limps are seen in the same way. Consider the limp of a soldier in uniform vs. a fat lady getting in an elevator vs. an elderly person with a cane vs. a young person on crutches with a foot wrapped like an injury. Any of these people may be disabled due to heroic, foolish, or mundane injury; their disabilities may be temporary or permanent. How they are treated is already coded into the rest of their appearance.
I have been fat all of my life; depending on what I’m doing, I’ve been seen as a cautionary tale, an inspiration, an anomaly, and a liar. (“YOU are a vegetarian?”) Discrimination is clearly not good for fat people, but it keeps everyone else either scrambling in avoidance or feeling superior—focusing a lot of attention on not being fat. What a waste of human potential.
Now that I’m an aging fat lady with a limp, I can report that I enjoyed life more being seen as beautiful and capable (and fat) than being seen as fat, slow, and incapable. My ability to highlight “unspoiled identities” has shifted because the triple burdens of disability, aging, and fatness are too great to interrupt. They affect me intersectionally.
Anyone with a visible disability might be dismissed as damaged or less than, but being fat adds a whole different dimension. When people see me limp, they assume that I’m disabled because I’m fat—specifically that I’m lazy and inactive and now I can barely walk. It’s disgusting to them, no longer even pitiable. Certainly not capable and deserving of care.
Perhaps my blanket statement about how “people” see me seems unfair. “We’re individuals!” you might say. Of course, and I don’t think everyone is just being mean. But the cultural meanings our society already holds make it harder for individuals to act differently from the norm. Some are easier to respect than others—just by looking at them—unless we make the effort to act otherwise.
The good news is that we can make the effort and use discernment, even when stigma is internalized. Some may be reading this right now with the belief that fat and disability aren’t in the same category. “Just lose weight!” The truth is that so many factors make dramatic weight loss impossible for many high weight individuals. But does that diminish our humanity?
We also need to notice when our own exclusionary sentiments are pointed inwards. Maybe it’s easier to feel worthy of care and support because of your disability if you’re not fat, if you eat “well,” exercise, or are extra cheerful. Or, or, or.
When we talk openly about how personal discomfort and disgust regarding whole groups can lead to fewer rights for those people, we become more capable of disrupting those unconscious biases. Disabled and fat people both deserve dignity and respect; the same applies to stereotypes about race, gender, etc. People need to realize their “common sense” perceptions are often a problem and then feel empowered to do better.
When judgmental thoughts come up, it’s possible to mark them with the conscious mind and then revise. Then the revision must become practice. It’s not enough to believe that cigarette-smoking, pizza-eating, beer-drinking curmudgeons need love too if you also think that somehow you’re only lovable if you’re a constant hope-seeking, sparkling conversationalist. You are worthy of care and support regardless of what you do, how you act, and what you look like. And so am I.
Kimberly Dark (she/her) is a writer, sociologist, and storyteller. She is the author of Fat, Pretty, and Soon to be Old: A Makeover for Self and Society and Damaged Like Me: Essays on Love, Harm, and Transformation. Learn more and sign up for The Hope Desk, a free newsletter, on her website.