Stephanie Yeboah - Fattily Ever After: A Black Fat Girls Guide to Living Life Unapologetically

DISCLAIMER ALERT!

This book for me is, first and foremost, a love letter to fat, black womxn. For womxn who look like me, who have had to grow up navigating spaces where we have been made to feel unwelcome, judged, and sidelined. Ill be talking about a lot of topics that some may see as sensitive or cutting, so to speak.

Alongside this love letter, and as well as including my own personal experiences and anecdotes to highlight specific topics, I also include ideologies and statements regarding for the most part white womxn, slimmer womxn, and the power plays and structures that have been enforced throughout history that have been instrumental in the oppression of not only ethnic minorities, but bodies that in societys view would be considered not to have any privilege.

When I talk about slim privilege or white privilege in this book, Im talking about these privileges at a societal/sociological level, as opposed to a personal level. These privileges mean that you may not be exposed to fatphobia, body policing, racism, racial microaggressions, prejudice, and other overt and subtle injustices due to your skin colour and body shape. The privileges have absolutely nothing to do with how you personally feel about yourself, or your circumstances. Understood? Wunderbar!

However, if youre the type to have your feelings hurt by the truth, whether it be my truth or truths that fellow plus-size womxn and black womxn share as our realities, take this as a disclaimer: this book isnt here to coddle the feelings of white womxn or womxn with bodies that are deemed as socially acceptable by society. In order for change and growth, accountability must be taken. And while we can blame most things on cishet, white, middle class men and the patriarchy in general *shakes fist*, its also important to talk about how white womxn and white feminism have been implicit in silencing less-privileged bodies within the body positivity movement. You have been warned!

The truth is, body positivity is for white womxn. White female bodies being safe is paramount to upholding white supremacy.

Me, 2017

The table is shooketh!

I bet youre asking yourself, Ahhh did Steph actually have the unmitigated gall to quote herself at the beginning of her book? The answer is yes. Why? Because its MY book frankly, and I gets to do what I want. Isnt it wonderful?

Within these pages, youll get to read all about me and my thoughts on navigating life as a black, plus-size womxn in the UK. Im about to tell it as it really is, without any holding back.

Some of you may know me already, as Ive been out in these online streets for the best part of 11 years talking shit and looking slick, but if you have no idea who I am and have just bought this book on Amazon because it showed up in the books you may like panel alongside a plethora of other non-fiction books written by other British and body positive influencers, then let me introduce myself: my name is Steph and Im a British, fat, black womxn with a lot of thoughts and feelings aboutstuff. By stuff, I mean topics including intersectional feminism, inclusivity and diversity within the media and EVERYDAY LIFE, fashion, topless Jason Momoa content, and most of all, being fat and all the fuckery that comes with it from society.

Growing up as a black, fat girl in the UK can be quite traumatic to say the least, Ill tell you that for free. We went through it back in the day, didnt we? The fat jokes, the youre so blick jokes, invisibility, the colourism, the rampant fatphobia, the mockery we went through it all, and even though we are currently in the throes of this so-called Body Positivity Revolution, plus-size, black womxn are still losing out and being marginalized in favour of our socially acceptable, whiter counterparts. Its about time we had our views and perspectives listened to, dont you think?

I grew up in a moderately suburban part of southwest London, to two Ghanaian parents who had lived in the UK for some time. My dad, whilst being born in the UK, spent his childhood and early teenage life in Ghana. My mum, born in Ghana, spent the majority of her child and teenage life in south-east London and Kent, with the latter making her the only black child in her primary and secondary schools.

My dad attended boarding school in Ghana, where bullying and hazing were seen more as rites of passage than anything else, which is why he always had a somewhat meh attitude towards me getting bullied in school, from what I can remember.

My mum on the other hand, went through the kind of outlandish racism that a lot of us today would only see on TV. From being caught up in the BMP riots in her local neighbourhood, to being bullied for being black at school, my mum pretty much lived through it all, which was the reason for her no nonsense, Ive-had-it-worse-than-you-at-school approach when it came to my struggles and issues with bullying.

Primary school was a breeze for me. I hadnt yet encountered the feelings of insecurity and low self-esteem in regards to my weight, even though I was a bit chubbier than the other kids. After spending two years of schooling in Ghana, being caned by Catholic nuns for merely breathing, running around the sugar cane fields and eating nothing but plant-based foods for the duration of my stay there, I came back to the UK to see out the rest of my primary school education looking a bit smaller, but not really being aware of my body or how different it was to everyone elses at the time.

Puberty with a side of crippling insecurity please!

If I could sum up my entire secondary school experience using one song, it would be Creep by Radiohead.

Whew! As soon as I hit 11, puberty came out of nowhere and hit me square in the face with a bag of pennies. During this period, my mum would be abroad on business for several months during the year and my dad the archetypical African patriarch of the family had absolutely no idea how to handle this sudden onslaught of pubescent teen angst and emotion and kinda left me to my own devices. This meant me not having any idea of how bras worked until the age of around 13, despite me being around a C cup at the time. Dressing like a tomboy did little to help with the situation either, as I tried as much as possible not to focus on what was going on with my ever-expanding body and instead, found ways to cover it up with a host of tragic fabrics and coveralls. A kind of out of sight, out of mind situation, you know?

I remember first being bullied on my first day of secondary school, due to my weird sounding surname, which by the way, I absolutely loved and was proud of mostly because people kept thinking I was related to famous-at-the-time Leeds football player, Tony Yeboah.

From that, the insults about my weight began. I was bullied for being dark skinned. Bullied for being overweight. The verbal insults quickly turned into physical acts of violence against me and because I was the quiet one in school, I refused to talk about the bullying to anyone.

I remember even going so far as to sign up to help out at my schools breakfast club which started at 7:30 am, because I wanted to avoid the bullies on the way to school. Proper NERD qualities right there. My duties included making breakfast for the kids who were dropped off to school early. On the days when it wasnt as busy, Id help myself to several bowls of Sugar Puffs, Coco Pops, and devour slices of toast, laden with butter. Excessive eating became my way of dealing with the bullying and the more I ate, the bigger I became which in turn led to the increase in bullying. It was a constant circle of woe.

I remember being in the communal changing rooms during PE and noticing that my body was drastically different from the other girls; their boobs were plump and perky and were decorated with pretty, frilly bras from Tammy and Per Una at M&S. I, on the other hand, had these triangular mounds of droopy, stretchmarked flesh that pointed downwards towards my rounded belly. The other girls would have gorgeously cornrowed, wavy hair complete with delicate swirls of baby hair expertly slicked down to frame the perimeters of their faces. I, meanwhile, had to make do with wearing bandanas over my hair every day to cover up my thick, damaged hair that bore the brunt of my mums Jherri Curl (otherwise known as a curly perm, in which strong chemicals are used to create curls that are semi-permanent) experimentation.