It’s strange that a stranger’s words on Instagram can be read as a cruel comment, a compliment, and a curse. A user posted ‘lizzo really fine AF…And IF / WHEN she decides to slim down, she'll be shittin on all y'all harder than she do now deadass.’
If. When. According to the poster’s arbitrary rules and standards, Lizzo, the platinum selling, multi-Grammy winning, recording artist will be prettier – better – if she loses weight. Lizzo, who seems to relish and celebrate the present, forced into the future conditional by commenter, who probably thought they were being kind. Helpful, even.
Lizzo’s response was biblically brilliant. She posted a picture of herself in colour block Gucci, captioned ‘HERE'S THE BODY. AIN'T SHIT SLIMMIN DOWN OVER HERE SWEETIE— POCKETS FAT PUSSY FATTER.’ Here’s the body. Present tense. Her time is now. No ifs, no whens.
Lizzo has already spoken out about the volume of racist and fatphobic abuse she is subjected to online, notably after she shared the video for Rumors, her collaboration with Cardi B. It’s essential that we acknowledge the way that the two things are linked. (In her book Fearing The Black Body: The Racial Origins of Fat Phobia, author Sabrina Strings traces the link between fat phobia and racism back to slavery in the 18th century.
I’m a white woman, and I realise that when I’m having a conversation about Lizzo’s abuse and my own body issues, it’s vital for me to take my privilege into consideration. Still, seeing those words – ‘IF/WHEN’ – made me think about the way that other people, even very well meaning people, often look at a woman’s body and decide to impose a deadline on it.
If and when the way we look becomes acceptable to a stranger. If and when we lose ‘the weight’, the definite article suggesting that some of the cells that make up our selves are simply a chrysalis to be shed. ‘IF/WHEN’ is an instruction to hold our breath and live in the future, plotting our wishes on the conditional x and y axis. It often does not feel like living at all. We’re told we must suffocate between the two conjunctions instead.
When I lost a significant amount of weight, it began as an exercise in cutting down on sugar and alcohol. My party line was that I wanted more energy, better sleep, and a break from the panic bought processed foods that weren’t doing my body or soul much good. My secret hope was that I might lose a little weight and get back into some of my old clothes, just in time for Christmas (and after that I suspected I’d end up back where I started). By accident, I realised that I was changing not what I ate, but the way I ate. I had been bingeing and starving, stuffing myself when I felt sad or scared, but struggling to acknowledge true hunger. Slowly, I learned to stop eating like an addict, who lived in terror of relapsing. Of course, no-one’s body should ever be used to make assumptions about their mental health, or their emotional relationship with eating. I can only speak about my experiences when I say that for me, weight loss was a side effect of addressing and healing that relationship.
As I lost weight, I was showered with unsolicited comments and compliments. The staff at the gym, our postman and people in Morrison’s were all very excited for me. ‘You’ve finally done it, it must be such a relief!’ ‘I’d hear. Or ‘You must have met your target by now!’ In their eyes, I had crossed a finish line. They were permitting me to live in the present, at last. They believed I’d been working towards a binary future goal, trapped by if/when.
The unsolicited compliments were briefly validating, but when the positive feelings wore off, I felt myself spiralling, losing sight of why I was changing, and who I was changing for.
Their words came from a place of generosity and kindness. But if I was on any kind of ‘journey’, it had only just begun. I was raw, exposed, tender. For as long as I could remember, bingeing and starving myself had been my coping mechanism. I was overwhelmed by my emotions, and concentrating on staying awake and alert. The unsolicited compliments were briefly validating, but when the positive feelings wore off, I felt myself spiralling, losing sight of why I was changing, and who I was changing for.
As I struggled with binge eating and bulimia, I was too scared to admit just how frightened, unhappy and anxious I had been. For years, I’d been eating my feelings. This is something society normalises. I believe food is an important source of celebration and joy. It should nourish the spirit. But it’s marketed to us like a drug. A quick fix for a miserable moment. We never have to think about why we’re unhappy, if we can self-medicate with food.
Although I believe the stigma around mental illness is shifting, we still struggle to speak about emotions and vulnerability. I believe that women, especially, are silenced with food. When we speak about our desire, appetite, passion and ambition – qualities Lizzo demonstrates in abundance – people get scared. I suspect that this commenter did not really take issue with the size of Lizzo’s body, but of her power, talent and dreams. Telling someone that they would be ‘better’ if they had a smaller body really means ‘you take up space, and this intimidates me’. ‘I want to cut you down to size.’ ‘You show talent and courage that goes beyond anything I could imagine for myself. I’d feel so much better if I could make you insecure about what I am most insecure about.’
I started abusing food because I grew up with extremely low self-esteem. The emotions I have been trying to numb and suffocate are feelings of shame. I still struggle. When I was very, very young, bullies made cruel comments about my body, and physically attacked me. I was told that the acts of violence committed against me were connected with my size. My only dream was to become invisible. How I wish that little girl could have been a Lizzo fan, and seen this incredible woman raising her voice, figuratively and literally. Lizzo does not owe it to anyone to be their role model, but she inspires me. ‘HERE’S THE BODY’ is slowly lifting the bullies’ curse.
Hopefully, over the last 18 months, we have all learned that we cannot afford to live in the margins of if and when. Joy cannot be deferred, and time cannot be wasted. Perhaps, more to the point, these words, and Lizzo’s response, are a wake-up call to white women like me. Lizzo told Good Morning America ‘Black women have been in this industry and innovating it forever. It is unfortunate that we are the ones who do suffer from the marginalisation the most. I feel like if it weren't for the internet and social media, I could've been erased. I chose to be undeniable and I chose to be loud and I chose to be great.’ I don’t live with that same fear of erasure. That means I owe it to all of my sisters to celebrate all bodies, now, without hesitation, for their sake more than mine. None of us can afford to wait for the if/when.
READ MORE: 'After Being Ashamed Of My Body For My Entire Life, I Finally Found My Voice On Instagram'