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“People are so enamored with white mediocrity they think I should be grateful to sit at a table I'm probably overqualified to be at.” - JerVae
By Hess Love Everything that we know about “obesity” is an indictment on white supremacy, and everything about who we listen to regarding it is bullshit. The centering of whiteness, especially white women, in the “Body Positivity Movement” recently led Rebel Wilson to tell an egregious lie about being the first fat woman to star in a romantic comedy and then block every Black person who tried to tell her the truth, that plus-sized Black women have starred in romantic comedies before. Women like Queen Latifah and Mo'Nique. But Rebel doubled down. Fat White Women like Rebel Wilson don't see Fat Black Women as forces of body positivity or plus-size representation because they view Blackness in itself as "large". Blackness is already big, vast, and something they want to confine, so they make it both a boogie man and a invisibility cloak. They see Blackness as being beastlike, so to be large and Black isn't defying expectations. In an odd way, it makes our fatness nonconsequential to them, because for them, their bodies defy the dainty expectations of a white, Western femininity. To them, that is braver than being fat and Black. Welcome to the politics of "taking up space." That's why they call the cops on small Black children and clutch their purses when they see even small framed Black men. That's why they won't acknowledge when large Black women already did something they're calling themselves brave and pioneering for just now doing. They take space from us to make room for themselves. Our bravery doesn't count. It can't count when even the smallest parts of us are a threat. There's a “historical view of Black Women as bodies without minds that underlies their invisibility” (Thompson, A Hunger So Wide and Deep, 15). Black women are painted as simultaneously enormous and non existent, our vastness is an enigma that is demonized through purposeful misperception that aims to project the thought that we lack a certain level of conscious deliberacy to understand and liberate the space our existence takes up. Black as big, as beast, as fat, is seen as a default experience for us. In the minds eye of white women like Rebel Wilson, that “default” lacks validity on the rubric of bravery. Fat Black women are tired of our bodies and experiences paving roads and painting it with blood just for white women like Rebel Wilson to trapeze down the pathway and ask if the stories she walks over “really” count. They do. Fat Black Women are the original recipients of “fat bitch” retorts when we dare exercise our right to choose and our right to exist. Whether it was fighting off slave owning forefathers, white men that would later be called medical pioneers for infringing on our largeness and reproductive organs, white women that gawked at our physiques while their accompanying men dreamed of other ways to violate us. Fatphobia is indelibly tied to anti-Blackness. Fat Black women are assigned roles where other people bring “purpose” to us to determine our usefulness, never an autonomous validity. The mammy archetype which bleeds over to freudian sexual fetishism around fat Black femme bodies is another agent that makes our presence on a socio-political front more amenable for erasure and labor. Perhaps this image of impressionability is a result of how fat Black women have had to attempt to diminish themselves in order to navigate certain social and systemic scenes. “The one thing that I do recognize in myself is the need to soften myself for white comfort. I am a fat dark black woman and to some white people that in itself is threatening. So I make sure I'm friendly as to not make them uncomfortable, because when white people are uneasy we pay for it in blood. On the flip side of that I'm seen as a mammy to some white people. Someone they can cast their cares on and be overly comfortable with because I only exist to pacify their fragile feelings and labor them on my back all the way to the promise land.” Brandi Wharton, founder of Magical Fat Black Femmes.
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These mines so often plundered just keep on giving. And they keep on taking.

Designer Stella McCartney dropped the ball. Perhaps she was too busy patting herself on the back for being a vegetarian who cares about the environment to care about being the epitome of British imperialism in the realm of cultural appropriation. For her latest runway show at Paris Fashion Week, Stella McCartney’s neocolonial use of Ankara/wax print (patterns and materials found and used in Nigeria and other West African nations) is disappointing. The dismal lack of cultural sensitivity and appropriation are so blatant, you might as well call it trolling. My tilted head and narrowed eyes are similar to the reaction of Yaya Dacosta when her style was described as ‘ethnic’ by a fashionista she was trying to work for on Cycle Three of America’s Next Top Model. I cycle past Stella McCartney store in Chelsea often. I can assure you that when they see these poorly designed creations, they will also be described as ‘ethnic’ by Lady Rebecca, AKA- Becky. I can also assure you that she still pronounces Kenya as ‘KEEN-YAA’. The history of this fabric is incredibly colonial. Dutch traders imitated the batik patterns of Indonesia and with the mass production technologies brought about by the industrial revolution, were able to sell fabric back to their colonial subjects much to their general distaste. When sales there dipped, their brightly colored fabric found new markets in West Africa. Over the course of the last century these kaleidoscopic and breathable materials have graced Black bodies beautifully and come to be associated with us at times of leisure, domesticity and high regality.
Related: THIS WHITE WOMAN’S “PROTEST SARIS” ARE PEAK APPROPRIATION

To be Nigerian-American is to be inherently unique. It’s a little extra volume in your voice, some extra peppa in your soup.

Nigerian-Americans make up a large number of African immigrant population  in the United States. If you are one of them, and were raised like me, your suburban home was transformed into a small Igbo village with four Toyotas in the driveway. The smell of stock fish wafts from the kitchen while your dad sings Flavour's Greatest Hits, and your mom scolds you for not yet having all of your times tables memorized. As a child, I just wanted to be 'regular Black,’ Frankie Beverly and Maze Black.  Now I understand that Blackness is rich with different experiences, so there is no such thing. Like the textured variances of cultures within Africa, to be Nigerian-American is to be inherently unique. It’s a little extra volume in your voice, some extra peppa in your soup. I have collected 5 things you should know about Nigerian-Americans: Jollof Rice Is Life: Jollof Rice, which is a tomato based rice pilaf dishes with traditional spices is the culinary staple of every Nigerian experience. You learn to make Jollof before riding a bike, braiding hair, counting money. Most west African nations have their own signature jollof recipe, but Nigeria reigns supreme. I am not biased. They won the Jollof Wars. We Do the bridesmaids things a bit different: Bridesmaids are cute, but the Asoebi is everything. Asoebi, is a Yoruba (a Nigerian tribe) word for "clothing of kin." It is a uniform worn by women at special formal events to signify who is really with you. Before a thanksgiving, wedding, or a funeral, the celebrants will select friends and family to be in their asoebi groups. For my wedding, there were three Asoebi groups: One of my friends and family, and my mom had her crew, and then one for my in laws. Throwing money has nothing to do with strippers: Wale caught some flack around his daughters the first birthday about spraying her with money. To someone unfamiliar with the culture, this may trigger strip club memories. Everybody needs to STAHHHHHP!
Related: 4 REASONS WE’RE NOT HAVING CHIMAMANDA NGOZI ADICHIE’S TRANSMISOGYNY

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