On the Perils of Publicly Pronouncing Portliness
And why Pelosi calling Trump fat is less harmful than Mike Daisey naming us “fats” and “thins.”
In the frenzy following Nancy Pelosi calling POTUS morbidly fat, it struck me that “fat-shaming” does deserve reflection. I found myself writing to a friend who posted a critical NBC opinion by Mike Daisey, but nearly deleted my thoughts.
Why do I feel uncomfortable writing this, I wondered. Further, is it an honest expression of what I think? Since it is, I’m allowing myself to publish it.
In other words, recalling the helpful Buddhist metric:
1. Is it truthful? Yes.
2. Is it timely? Sure.
3. Is it kind? That depends.
I want to apologize in advance to anyone I might piss off (or worse, offend). What follows is a set of thoughts offered with characteristic honesty, if with less delicacy than I might usually attempt.
As someone who is genetically (epigenetically?) inclined to be fat and one who works hard to keep in shape (with varying degrees of success; see photo below), I see no problem with thin people liking being thin more than being fat, or for judging me at times when I should not only judge myself but also act on that judgement (observation) in a constructive (read: life-affirming) manner.
While in some cases obesity is the result of an underlying biological condition, in most cases it is visual evidence of excess, opulence, lack of discipline and willpower, and lack of regard for oneself. There is no more to be proud of specifically in being obese than there is in having any other addiction or weakness.
In procrastinating instead of editing this, I’ve eaten far more Imperfect Foods “Black Maroo” raisins than I should have. Who among us hasn’t had bouts with similarly compulsive behaviors or maladaptive coping mechanisms? Sometimes, it takes a hard stop.
Earlier in my life, if someone continually taunted my choice to have a cigarette or kept emphasizing, “you’re gonna die,” I would eventually snap at their entitlement of opinion; their taking such liberty with my present-moment quality of life (“shut up and let me enjoy my choice, thanks”). But were they wrong? No. They were actually a bell of mindfulness, whether I was ready to hear that bell or not.
And guess what? Hearing people demean smoking bothers me a lot less now that my own lungs are healthier and cleaner again. Only I could have chosen to stop smoking, but I will not deny that the reminders helped me find the disgusting habit disgusting sooner. In hindsight, yeah, why did I ever think it was a good idea? I didn’t — I was just being too weak to make a better choice, and didn’t appreciate the reminders of my weakness. Until, that is, I summoned my strength.
Here is something I’m happy to admit: one of the things (and there are many) I really enjoy about losing weight is how I don’t inconvenience people by taking up more space in thin aisles or other public places.
Anyone who won’t admit that being carelessly fat is a sign of some underlying and unaddressed issue is someone who is not taking their health (mental, emotional or otherwise) very seriously. How we tend to our bodies is a reflection of how much we prioritize wellness, or our capacity to.
For me, smoking and overeating, like other maladaptive coping mechanisms, were outward expressions of sadness, not caring. Most often, they correspond to inner conflict: confusion, stress, heartbreak.
Let me be clear: I do not believe in fat-shaming. I think it’s unkind. But I also think there is undue righteous discontent afoot in reactions like Daisey’s. We cannot be so sensitive about others judging us for carelessness. Unlike racism or homophobia, passing an observation about body weight is discernment about value systems, not a basic and unchangeable fact of identity (unless it is, which is why arrogantly “shaming” is not okay).
When you (like many in my circle) criticize an apolitical moron for not caring about the body politic, you are criticizing their lack of expressed care and effort. It enrages you because they show no regard for others. You want them to care! If only they and others like them did, the world could be a better place! — Right?
Well, I don’t think we can call on people to cease one form of carelessness while prohibiting criticism of another. Do you think the person in the aisle seat who’s pressing into my tray table isn’t aware that they’re disrupting my experience of a flight I paid for?
Isn’t that a kind of entitlement?
I don’t know.
What I do know is that I was always aware when I was disruptive to someone else. And that awareness helped me prioritize differently. Again, I’m not suggesting we cruelly berate or ridicule people, God no! That’s unkind. Because more than likely, they’re already unhappy and struggling. We do good by accommodating socially; it is the decent thing to do.
But must we become overly sensitive and irate when, suddenly, people express openly what everyone might think privately? And if we do, can we give equal attention to why we are reacting? Perhaps it is because a bell has been rung that we are not comfortable hearing yet.
In short, I think we would all do well to own our shortcomings and take every cue to become better (read: healthier, more considerate, conscientious, inspiring) in every way. I recall this autosuggestion by the French shrink, Émile Coué:
“Every day, in every way, I am getting better and better.”
Words to live by. Surely, it’s better than, “Shut up, shut up! Stop, stop!”
No one of us is perfect, and that is the great equalizer, isn’t it? For every insecurity we can make a beneficial improvement on, let us also draw security and standing from the gifts we already have. We’re all works in progress — with unique bundles of security and insecurity.
Maybe this is a trigger for a lot of people (hardly an impressive deduction). Maybe, rather than reacting with vitriol, it is best to contemplate why we’re triggered, and allow that contemplation to guide our behavioral choices.
If you’ve taken the time to read Mike Daisey’s article, I suggest that more ruinous than Pelosi’s cheap barb is Daisey’s odd choice to divisively (and defensively) label people “thins” and “fats.”
Cementing people into false identities based on lifestyle choices not only delegitimizes real health concern, but it’s utterly disempowering. Implicit here is that one is born either “a fat” or “a thin.” What, are we wheat snacks?
No, we are people, capable of making life-altering decisions. The instant that I begrudgingly accept myself as “a fat,” I forfeit my accountability and the life experiences I’ve gained by honoring my body; our vessels are expressions of choices, priorities and discipline.
We’d all be better served to take inventory of our personal choices — and how those choices make us feel — before fabricating static identities around the consequences of vices and compulsions.
As an afterthought, if you’ve read this far, well, thank you. I’d like to know what you think. Am being insensitive? Untruthful? Harmful? Unnecessarily caustic? What are your views on any part of this, and what are those views motivated by?
I’m open to hearing you.
