I am a Black woman who decided to lose weight in 2019… or did I?
My body, as Black, as woman, as I’ve come to know it, has never been and may never be my own.
My body, as Black, as woman, as I’ve come to know it, has never been and may never be my own.
Aside from Roxane Gay, social, political, economic, and cultural work around the (fat) body is overwhelmingly whiteâdespite the ways in which anti-fat oppression is felt most harshly by Black fat bodies.
There’s always something more I should have done.
But truth is, from what I can tell, I am the only person who brought a “partner” to this reunion. Sure, there might be other fiances, but partner is the only term straight folks prescribe to gay niggas.
For years, Iâve blamed myself for not being able to identify âdanger signsâ in the sexual assault situations.
Diva has long-time been used to describe an archetype of the wonderfully tragic. Used to uplift and level. To shroud a person in cues: dramatic, difficult, annoying, too-much.
I was more afraid of being found out than of being harmed.
Those who resist rape cultureâs control allow my bodyâa queer Black body that has never known rapeâto be possible.
The physical markers of the carceral state not only demarcate our mobility and freedom, but inform our performances as well, particularly Black masculinities.
The solution to repairing the development of my healing was not to believe solely in the idea of restoring the justice system but to support the transformation of justice entirely.