Feminist, Fat and Fabulous: Dare

This fat woman has always tried to take up as little space as she could. She has tried not to draw attention to herself, good, bad or indifferent. She dressed in dark colours, she hunched her shoulders, she sucked in her stomach. This might have gone on indefinitely if it wasn’t for this fat woman making fat friends. Who taught her that she had a right to take up the space she inhabited, she had a right to wear whatever the hell she wanted, she had a right to walk tall and straight. She had a right to breathe.

Women in general try and take up as little space as possible. We’re taught we have to be good and meek and ladylike. We have to phrase everything we say as a question, just in case we’re wrong or if people disagree with us. We’re expected to cry if things don’t go our own way, or because the sky is blue. We’re looked at with disdain, but no surprise if we do happen to cry for some reason. If a woman draws attention to herself in some way, people shake their heads, they judge, they stare, they snicker.

I feel like this is doubled when the woman is a fat woman. How dare they be happy? How dare they eat? How dare they exercise? How dare they wear those leggings?

I dare.