Virgie Tovar

One of the things I have done for myself in adulthood as part of my healing process is make a strong claim to fatness femininity.

So, recently I started dipping my toe back into the poisonous dump site that is straight dating. Deep breath.

To me, being a spinster is a lot about prioritizing myself, my needs and my desires over the culture’s needs and desires for my life.

My jaw clenches in judgmental discomfort whenever I think of any event with "BBW" in the title. To me, the term "BBW" is coded. When I hear that word, my eyes begin a preemptive roll as the keywords "heteronormativity," "hookup," "gendered labor," "mansplaining," and "ugh" scroll past the neon pink kiosk in my brain.

I came to realize that even though I was certainly a bona fide member, that some fat people were far more acutely marginalized than me.

The politics of food are the politics of class, and the subtlety of those politics creates a kind of deniability that makes it hard to discern the rules of engagement. One’s success in ascending the ladder is marked by fluency with these invisible boundaries.

It takes a lot of ongoing effort, labor, and love to fight for justice and to question the culture. People in the “choir” opt out of fitting in or playing nice. We dedicate a lot of time to being conscientious citizens.

Fat positivity creates room for fat people to be seen with full humanity — not as failed thin people, but as complete and precious.

Fat people often get so little attention that feels positive. When someone offers exploitative attention or exploits fat people it can feel really good.

It’s important to recognize that tiny or unsupportive seats (no matter how beautiful) send a silent but powerful message about who has the right to sit down. This message has strong ripple effects for a community that is already facing quite a bit of discrimination.