Tags

, , , , , , , , , , ,

I stand five-foot-six inches tall.
As of ten minutes ago, I weigh 106 pounds.
My measurements are 32-24-36.
My cup size is a C.

Given the three above-listed pieces of information, one could say I have the ideal body. The curves are exactly where magazines would have them be, right where men will ogle, just perfect enough for other women to cast slanted gazes. I wear size extra-small shirts, size zero jeans, and (in case you were wondering) size eight shoes. I have never walked into a clothing store unable to find items in my size. I have never been asked to pay more for a seat on an airplane, or been refused a spot on a roller coaster. I have never had someone reject me as a dating prospect based on my body type, nor had someone scoff, openly, while watching me eat french fries in public, or scarf down a burger. I have never experienced a doctor dismissing my concerns with a “lose weight, feel great!” remedy. And I can prance around in a bikini without fearing others’ judgements. I walk through this world as a thin person. And as such, I have never experienced fat discrimination. That said, I want to clear up two things.

1.) I am writing this post from a privileged perspective.
2.) I am not here to damn, guilt, or embarrass thin people.

But I think I need to air something out because it is so easy to fall back on tired old excuses for why thin people are not privileged–and I see this a lot when the topic of thin privilege is broached.

As someone who has long-suffered from an eating disorder, and has eventually found a bit of normalcy in her relationship with food, I am finally at a place in my life where I am able to systematically sort out the societal causes of disordered thinking, the social factors that cause thin privilege, and the personal factors that plummeted me into an eating disorder at a young age. But this post is not about the personal factors. This post is about fat-shaming. It is about the thin privilege I have experienced since the second I was born. It is about taking accountability for my role in perpetuating fat shaming, promoting thin privilege, and fully using it to my advantage. It is about admitting a huge wrong, and hoping to turn it into a right.

Last month, when I whined to my primary care provider about the extra five pounds I put on, post getting a cortisone shot, she casually mentioned that I will most likely “benefit from thin privilege for years to come,” and that five pounds is nothing on my body. Since then, I have played around with this concept extensively. It made me feel great that I was in this category of aesthetic privilege. Who doesn’t want to be deemed “thin and pretty?” Who doesn’t want “a body to die for?” Who doesn’t “hope the extra five pounds just goes to the boobs?”

But at the core of it all, I felt a pang of guilt for feeling good about a social construct that so ruthlessly discriminates against others. Does being “thin,” automatically go with being “pretty?” Do “thin and pretty” always have to be a packaged deal? Why do I feel so, SO good every time someone calls me “skinny?” Why do I feel a narcissistic sense of relief when I find out the guy I like used to date a girl who is bigger than me? When my best friend feels shitty about her ex dating a new girl, why do I justify her need to get over him by calling his new girlfriend “fat,” or “chubby,” or “chunky?”

Is being fat really the worst thing a person can be? Is it worse than being a liar, a cheat, a gossip mongrel, a rapist, a sadist, an asshole, a horrible person, or a complete waste of a human life?

Sadly, the answer is yes. Yes, because we live in a society that looks down upon people, simply based on the amount of space they take. Never mind their intellect, their creativity, their sense of humor, their kindness, their compassion. We live in a society where a fat person is first, and foremost, fat. That is their premier identifier. And everything else they are, everything they want to be comes afterwards.

Once I realized this, I realized the following, as well:
1.) I am more privileged than I will ever know.
2.) My thinness has gotten me interviews over other women.
3.) My thinness has gotten me the attention of men.
4.) My thinness is equated to beauty.
5.) If my career goes down the drain, my family life falls apart, I end up with no friends, and my life spirals down to a complete fail, I will still be thin. And that will count for something.
6.) All of the above disgust me to no end.
7.) Just as a fat person is primarily identified by their fatness, a thin person is primarily identified by their thinness.

So where, then, does this take us? Speaking for myself, the more I think about thin privilege, read of it, and internalize it, the more I get slapped in the face by my own ignorance for years, up until this point. I have naively lived in a world where I was unaware of my own privilege, thwarting off the idea of thin privilege by justifying it with an eating disorder.

How can I have thin privilege? I feel like shit about my body on the reg! Besides, someone just told me my hip bones were jutting out the other day. That’s not attractive! But it still made me feel good. Why did it make me feel good? Why do I feel so great when a guy grabs my waist and comments on how tiny it is? I’m only thin because I’ve had an eating disorder for the majority of my life, and no way in hell is that a privilege! But wait, I’m using that as an excuse to shy away from recognizing my privilege. Okay, so I guess it is one.”

You see, an eating disorder is serious. And when you feel trapped in, and controlled by your body, when you have reached that level of self-consciousness, when you are suffering every single day just to make it through, it is unlikely that you will feel like you are experiencing privilege.
Because an eating disorder feels like a curse. Eating disordered women are shamed, too. They are absolutely shamed and ridiculed.

But let us not get it twisted. Being fat and confident is perceived as offensive to society. It means that you are taking power away from the idea that you have to be thin to be happy. Thinness does not carry that stigma, nor does it restrict you from being able to obtain a job, get treated by a doctor appropriately, to be assumed that you are of good health, or forced to see body-shaming everywhere in the media, convincing you that your body is disgusting and unworthy of existence. If fat people enjoy their bodies and enjoy their lives, there is no power in being thin. There is no wielding of capitalism and institutional power to convince the world that thinness is the ideal you want to live up to.

So, if you are able to step outside of your body, your mind, and your consciousness for even a second–just enough to be able to slightly empathize with those who do not experience thin privilege, you will see a chasm so wide, a societal fallacy so deep, you will want to take back every instance in which you have rejoiced or reveled in your thinness. You will understand that beauty standards, undoubtedly, are designed to ruin different people on different levels. As a thin person who has suffered from body image issues severe enough to push me into death’s arms several times, I assure you that these beauty standards have tried to ruin me. But I am here today, fully recognizing that I have still never faced ruin quite in the same way that fat people do. I never will.

Fat people are not simply shamed for being fat. They are societally oppressed. And because, when it comes to women, there are so many intersecting factors (i.e. gender, which is obvious, race, ethnicity) that can further deter privilege, the oppression very much chips away at not just quality of life, but a chance at a great life.

It is without a doubt in my mind, but with a lot of repulsion, that I can say these things:
1.) A larger woman who interviews for the same positions as me will have to be infinitely more qualified to get the position. This makes me question every job I have ever gotten, and whether I have been deserving.
2.) I am more likely to get a right swipe on a dating app because of my body-type. This makes me wonder if my physicality is my chief quality when it comes to dating and men. Is there anything to be said for my personality?
3.) I will get approached at the bar several times a night, but my fat friend will not. This guy is way more her type than mine, but he won’t even entertain the notion of talking to her, instead.
4.) No matter how impressive my résumé, how many languages I speak, or how many hats I wear, from a societal perspective, being “thin and pretty” will trump all else. “You look like a model” will come before “you’re so smart.” “She’s so fat” will come before “she’s one of the coolest girls I know.”
5.) I will continue to benefit from this privilege, no matter how much I choose not to, how much I opt out of it, and how much I run away from it.

So I invite you all to find this recognition in yourselves. I invite you all to reflect, then identify the ways in which you are privileged–whether it be white privilege, thin privilege, economic privilege, class privilege, or caste privilege–and how that privilege has benefited you at the expense of those who do not benefit from the same privilege.