Content warning: There are mentions of eating disorders in this article.
Growing up, I was inundated with misleading images and commentary that insinuated the existence of this mythical ‘PERFECT BODY’. This assembled a long-lasting feeling of dissatisfaction with myself, since I never truly managed to fit the conventional standards of beauty.
From my parents and relatives to teachers and friends, everyone always felt the need to be opinionated about my plus-size figure. The constant reminders that I wasn’t the standard size for a girl lasted pretty much all my life.
And although I wasn’t familiarised with the terms, at that time, somehow dealing with colourism and racism never felt like enough, fatphobia had to be served at the table too and all I could do was pretend I was immune to it.
Being perceived by outsiders as the stereotypically asexual, intimidating, big black woman was detrimental to how I treated my body. But to be seen as unhealthy, lazy and unchallengeable by those closest to me set the tone for how I saw my body.