The rise of the body neutrality movement: ‘If you’re fat, you don’t have to hate yourself’


When Stephanie Yeboah was 12 years old, she was put on a diet and began restricting Wherself to 300 calories a day. People told her she would be so pretty, if only she could lose weight. By wher early 20s, a preoccupation with counting calories had led to a devastating pattern of disordered eating. She was bulimic, but, she says, she did not recognise it because her body shape hadn’t changed and society had made it clear: “Fat people don’t have eating disorders; if they did they wouldn’t be fat.”
It wasn’t until she discovered body positivity in 2014 that Yeboah found an alternative to self-loathing and depression. Body positivity first emerged in the US in the 60s to raise awareness of the barriers faced by fat people (and as a result, the word “fat” was reclaimed as a descriptor rather than insult). Advocates eschewed diets and weight-loss surgery and highlighted the need for human rights for bigger bodies.
In the social media era, it was reignited by women of colour – bloggers such as Gabi Gregg posted images of fat women in bikinis that were soon picked up by feminist sites, and the movement spread to the UK. For Yeboah, it changed her life. She became an influential writer and plus-size blogger. This year, for the first time, she wore a bikini on holiday. When she posted photos of herself by the pool, she received vicious abuse, but the freedom was revelatory, and the memory of it continues to make her smile.
Yet, as body positivity grew in popularity, women of colour, women with disabilities and transwomen, were pushed from the spotlight by a more conventional beauty ideal. White women, with hour-glass figures, often no bigger than a size 16, were described as radical role models. Clothing brand Everlane even launched an underwear range featuring a plus-size model, despite not yet selling any larger sizes. Meanwhile, on Instagram, fitness instructors with tiny, sculpted waists hashtagged their workout posts #bodypositivity. Made in Chelsea’s Louise Thompson even published a diet and exercise book, called Body Positive, essentially advocating against what the movement stands for.
Many former followers now feel the movement has been co-opted. Yeboah is one. “It has become a buzzword, it has alienated the very people who created it. Now, in order to be body positive, you have to be acceptably fat – size 16 and under, or white or very pretty. It’s not a movement that I feel represents me any more.”
New ideas began to circulate, including an interest in “body neutrality” – a concept pitched at those who find loving their bodies a step too far, and instead seek simply to find peace with them. For writer Rebekah Taussig, the appeal is understandable. “The body positive movement doesn’t put people with disabilities and other marginalised bodies into the foreground. Body neutrality, I think, has the power to be really useful in particular to people with disabilities, especially those with chronic pain or people with diagnoses that are progressive. Those people are pretty frustrated with the demand to love their bodies when they feel betrayed by them. Being neutral could feel like a relief.”
Yeboah has now embraced a new approach: “fat acceptance”. “If this movement had been called fat acceptance in the first place, none of these people would have jumped on it because it’s got the word ‘fat’ in it. Fat is still associated with ugly,” she says. “It’s very easy to say we shouldn’t concentrate on our bodies, but for some of us we have no choice, because everyone else is. Growing up, there weren’t fat black people on film, you never saw them being the object of desire, or playing the lead role. The one time I saw that was Gabourey Sidibe in Empire – it was the first time I’d ever seen a fat woman in a sex scene. The uproar was disgusting. It broke my heart.”
One of the biggest criticisms that Yeboah and others face is health. She says it is a tool to legitimise fat phobia, rather than a genuine concern about bigger bodies and health. “The only time I’ve been admitted to hospital because of my weight was because I was beaten up for being fat,” she says, referring to an assault for which the perpetrators were convicted. “We’re not promoting obesity, or telling people to be fat, we’re just saying, if you’re fat you don’t have to hate yourself.”
Proxima
« Anterior
Anterior
Proxima »