Content warning: mentions of trauma, sexism, fatphobia, homophobia and racism
Tackling fatphobia, homophobia, sexism and racism in just one book sounds like it would be an overwhelming deed — but not for writer Clarkisha Kent. In her new memoir, “Fat Off, Fat On: A Big Bitch Manifesto,” she offers a powerful look at her quest to learn self-love and acceptance. The book deftly explores body liberation, identity, intersectionality, fatphobia and more.
Kent emphasizes her desire to use writing as a tool to examine and embrace her identities rather than downplay their significance in her life.
“I wrote the memoir because I am these different identities and marginalizations,” Kent said. “What I’ve experienced because of them, or maybe in spite of them, are things that I definitely wanted to document, especially for people who shared these identities with me and maybe are looking for someone who speaks about them candidly — all the good, the bad and the ugly.”
The memoir also serves as a way to reflect on past traumas from her childhood with a transformed perspective.
“I am always writing for, essentially, young Clarkisha and the horrific things she experienced and she witnessed and she couldn’t name at the time. So, now that I’m old enough to be able to name these things, I’m like, okay, well now it’s my responsibility to do that because she didn’t have the language and now I do,” she said.
By sharing these vulnerable moments, Kent provides “people who don’t have the verbiage [to] have it now.”
Kent digs deep into the pervasive issue of fatphobia, its roots in racism and the migration of the body positivity movement away from its “radical origins” toward toxic positivity. According to Psychology Today, “toxic positivity is the act of avoiding, suppressing, or rejecting negative emotions or experiences. This may take the form of denying your own emotions or someone else denying your emotions, insisting on positive thinking instead.”
Some believe that the body positivity movement, while well-intentioned, has drifted toward the toxic notion that one should never be allowed to entertain or voice negative thoughts about themselves or their figure.
Additionally, Kent believes that today’s body positivity movement can be redundant. She sees that certain bodies are celebrated, but others are still overlooked.
The author aligns herself more closely with the fat liberation movement, which allows her to have “a shitty day about my body right now and still agree that I don’t deserve to be mistreated because I’m fat. We can hold these two things together. And I don’t think the modern body positivity movement allows us to.”
The insidiousness of fatphobia extends well beyond a rude comment or two — Kent also argues that it’s “the reason for terrible airline seats.”
“99.9% [of clothing stores are] not going to carry our sizes,” Kent said. “Being passed over jobs, being passed over for housing … fatphobia is all around you.”
The messaging that accompanies a world which refuses to accommodate or accept all sizes is clear, despite being largely unspoken. “We don’t want you to fly with us. That’s the message, right? Even though they’re not saying it out loud,” Kent said. “They don’t want us in their fucking store. That’s the silent message, right?”
In addition to the exploration of fatphobia, Kent believes her work might also be of particular interest to “queer people who have survived the church … because I tried to really go into detail about how my journey to really discovering and also owning my queerness was extremely hampered and put to the test because of the church.” This profound account of her life works to empower and liberate readers who may relate to Kent by outlining “how we might begin the difficult — but joyful — work of setting ourselves free.”
The memoir’s message is, crucially, a gesture of support, Kent says, to “Black queer people [who] will relate to the experiences that I have laid out. So I definitely want to dedicate this work to them as well, because the world really does not like us. And sometimes that world includes our community, and it can be very sad. But I just want them to know that we’re going to be okay. And it’s going to be tough, but we have each other.”