Thin privilege in a fatphobic culture or, What is Meghan Trainor really all about?

[todaysdate]

By Neal Schindler

A while ago on Facebook I posted two articles about thin privilege from the online magazine Everyday Feminism. The first, “Let’s Talk About Thin Privilege,” serves as a detailed introduction to the concept, while the second, “20+ Examples of Thin Privilege,” provides what the title suggests. A few friends who identify as currently or formerly thin commented that life isn’t always easy for thin people, either, especially if they are very thin. Strangers and friends alike may ask a very thin person if he or she has an eating disorder. Very thin women in particular may be warned that their reproductive capabilities could be compromised if they don’t put on weight.

These experiences are valid; they happen and are hurtful. However, I believe systematic oppression still favors very thin people over those who are heavy, and especially those who are statistically very heavy. One friend commented that interrupting a discussion of thin privilege with tales of thin people’s struggles is akin to the ill-advised #NotAllMen phenomenon that arose after Elliot Rodger’s killing spree at UC-Santa Barbara.

American society routinely bombards heavy people with dehumanizing pro-thin messages. Individuals who absorb those messages and spew them at heavy people compound the damage. Note that when I say “heavy people” I mean those who fall outside an arbitrary standard of acceptable weight or body type. I use the term “body fascism” occasionally, knowing it sounds extreme. But fatphobia, and the systematic dehumanization it breeds, can be devastating; they can contribute to the derailment of a life. Strong words are called for.

None of this is to minimize the importance of personal resilience, the ability to bounce back from oppression, to rise up not only to survive but to fight. However, the onus should not be entirely, or even mostly, on the oppressed to combat their oppression. Those who contribute to the awful status quo, including me, need to understand how they contribute and then use that knowledge to start dismantling the broken system.

Recently, I jumped into another Facebook dialogue about thin privilege. This one was prompted by SpokaneFAVS writer Eric Blauer’s announcement that he had written about Meghan Trainor’s ubiquitous song “All About That Bass.” My contribution to the comment thread included the following:

I am a man who has been anorexic and has been a compulsive overeater. It is my view as a person, man, and counselor that [fat] shaming is never an effective motivator. Not just a wrong way to go about things morally but a method that fails.

I would want to live in a non-shaming culture if I had the choice. Fat shaming is a nonstarter as a tactic for combating the “obesity epidemic” in this country. And I will add that at 35 and 5’9″ish and about 240 pounds I am happier in my body than I ever was at 210 or 190 or less. I take a dim view of the “poor steward” line on overweight [i.e., overweight people are poor stewards of their God-given bodies] because I was a dramatically worse steward of my body when I weighed 160.

P.S. Kudos to Trainor for celebrating plus-size bodies in a Top 40 song. Demerits for pitting skinny women against plus-size women with the “skinny bitches” lyric and such. Infighting ain’t gonna dismantle the oppression.

And then a bit later:

My wife and I just came up with multiple people we know well whose genetics CLEARLY have a profound effect on their set point when it comes to weight and body shape. As a believer I’m sure it’s important for you [another commenter] to recognize that some things are inherent in the body we’re given. To be a good steward of your body means working within the genetic parameters you’re given AND finding a way to feel good about your body in a culture that is actually the bad steward of bodies, with its shaming and phobias and dehumanization.

The success of “All About That Bass” may reflect an ongoing shift in America’s view of plus-size bodies, and women’s in particular. One response to the statistical rise in obesity is to freak out, blame heavier people for the uptick in overall healthcare costs, and make everyone run on a treadmill. Another is to use the trend as an opportunity to reassess how we look at bodies that fall short, sometimes far short, of the predominant beauty ideal. In the song, Trainor declares: “I’m bringing booty back / Go ahead and tell them skinny bitches that / No I’m just playing.” To my ears, this is a way of dissing thin women but then, in the same breath, taking it back — masking that anger with a joke.

Yet some overweight people’s anger is there for a reason: years, if not decades, of being ridiculed and/or ignored, regardless of how they came to have the body they do. Women deal with much more objectification and denigration than men. But male allies, overweight or not, can make positive change by debunking myths (e.g., thinness as a universal health ideal; “Anyone can be thin if they work out enough!”). They can also raise awareness and offer support.

For people who have suffered because of their body shape or size, self-acceptance can mean tuning out hateful messages that aren’t about us but instead reflect the hangups of the messengers. Yes, Trainor’s empowerment anthem is diminished by its passive-aggressive slighting of thin women and its reinforcement of the idea that male desire is what makes a certain type of female body acceptable. But for a culture so perpetually confused about body image and sexuality, it could represent another baby step in the right direction.