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Even though we share some common lines, I don’t know what it is to live in Roxane Gay’s body.

Roxane Gay had weight loss surgery (WLS) and I have many opinions and feelings about that but it is also none of my goddamn business what Roxane Gay does to Roxane Gay’s body. And that’s a hard pill to swallow. Gay has been one of the most visibly fat women of color working today. She has written a number of articles, books, and even comics. She has spoken passionately for fat activism, her book, “Hunger”, was about her struggles with food, trauma, and her own body. Her work has struck a chord with many fat feminists who found solace and strength in her words, myself included, but none of that gives me any room or right to tell her what she can and can’t do with her body. She outlines why she made this choice in her piece, “What Fullness Is” for Unruly Bodies. It was not one that she came to easily and she was pondering it off and on for a number of years before finally going through with the process. And it comes to this: She lived under multiple marginalizations for her entire life when, given a choice to be able to opt out of one, to give herself a break from the constant abuse of the world, she did. I’m a visible, fat, Black woman. I’m smaller than Gay which affords me more privilege than her in navigating this world, but I still get the abuse, the constant messages that should hate myself for my fatness, my Blackness. It is exhausting to always be in a position where you feel you have to prove you are worthy of just existing.
Related: DEAR VIRGIE: ASHLEY NELL TIPTON’S WEIGHT LOSS SURGERY – WTF?

Let’s make sure we stay body positive and aren’t feeding into the toxic diet culture when talking about our journey.

By Dr. Jonathan P. Higgins A few months ago I was reminded of how much I missed working out. As someone who viewed the gym as one of the best stress relievers, I began to realize that my addiction to food and “rest” was now compromising my health. After gaining almost 75 pounds, dealing with issues related to my blood pressure and constantly being made to feel as if I should buy an additional seat on a plane (I fly often), I finally decided that I needed to get back to doing the one thing that made me feel my best: exercising. Over the years, I have always struggled with my weight. After losing almost 150 pounds in college, I realized how beneficial exercising was to my physical and emotional health. As someone who suffers from depression and anxiety, going to the gym was always the one thing that helped me feel better about my outlook on life. Running gave me a moment to let my mind breath. Aerobic classes gave me a moment to just center myself with the music and the connections I made with others in the classes. The gym had always been my escape. After contending with hating how I felt and hating how I looked, I re-committed myself to going to a local gym. A few weeks after being told by several of my friends that I was beginning to lose weight, I thought about posting a photo on social media to talk about how much weight I was losing and how important fitness was. But in that moment, it truly hit me: what I was about to post was not only problematic in the sense that the undertone of said post was fat-shamey, but the post was in turn telling other BIPOC that the only way they could be seen as worthy and beautiful was if they too decided to pick up a weight loss regime. In this, I began thinking deeper about how BIPOC people can talk about their weight loss without it coming across as fat phobic and how we can hold others accountable when equating weight loss with beauty.
Related: BODY POSITIVE PHOTOGRAPHER ROCHELLE BROCK WANTS A BIGGER, ROUNDER, BLACKER MOVEMENT

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