Humanities & Cultures

There was a time when fat liberation seemed inevitable: Body positivity, a movement to dismantle systems that map stigma onto fat bodies, was having a cultural moment. Plus-size model Ashley Graham received a Barbie molded in her image. Per her request, Mattel made the doll’s thighs touch, an ode to the realness of Graham’s body and that of the 67 percent of women in the United States who are above a size 14. She also appeared on the cover of Vogue UK and American Vogue, designed a swimsuit line with Swimsuits For All, and became the first plus-size model to grace the cover of Sport Illustrated’s swimsuit issue. At the time, Graham’s ascendancy and success were treated as the collective win of a movement that had pushed for fashion, in particular, to become more inclusive of larger bodies.

Women of size were purchasing fatkinis in droves, unapologetically flaunting their curves on coveted magazine covers, selling out fashion collections, and generally pushing for and investing in representation that had long eluded us. Whether it was calling out fat-shamers in gyms, getting a line of Barbies that were more representative of actual bodies, or finally having stock photos that purposefully included plus-size women, women of size were declaring our right to exist without persecution. It felt like inhaling a breath of fresh air after being inside for too long. Though the average American woman wears between a size 16 and a size 18, we represented less than 2 percent of media images. Having access to cute clothes, two-piece swimsuits, and Photoshop-free advertisements was critical for a population that has long been starved, a punishment for daring to be large in a culture that idolizes thinness.

In the late 2010s and early 2020s, body positivity had become a mantra for those who are learning to reject diet culture and love their bodies, flaws and all. Graham and her peers—including Tess Holliday, Iskra Lawrence, Gabi Gregg, Nicolette Mason, and Danielle Brooks—championed the movement through their social-media platforms, their work with clothing brands and advertising partners, and their features on magazine covers. The ascension of body positivity gave us fat-girl memoirs that deliberately focused and centered the narratives of fat women, such as Kelsey Miller’s Big Girl: How I Gave Up Dieting and Got a Life, Gabourey Sidibe’s This Is Just My Face: Try Not To Stare, Roxane Gay’s Hunger, Jes Baker’s Things No One Will Tell Fat Girls: A Handbook for Unapologetic Living, and Tess Holliday’s The Not So Subtle Art of Being a Fat Girl: Loving the Skin You’re In. And multiple fashion companies, including Aerie and Target, even pledged to use minimal or no retouching in their advertising campaigns for a time.

The body-positivity movement used rhetoric rooted in empowerment to affirm women of size and encourage us to accept ourselves as we are, regardless of our dress size. Even now, a Google image search for “body positivity” offers an array of simple illustrations framed around the idea of empowerment. All bodies are good bodies. There’s no wrong way to have a body. All bodies are beautiful. Beauty comes in every shape and size. Honor my curves. Plus is equal. It’s time for us to reclaim our bodies. These catch phrases, and dozens of others, are powerful hashtags on Instagram. Tagging a photo with one of these popular hashtags lets other body-positive people know you’re a member of the community: Like them, you reject Photoshop, jiggle without shame, and paint your stretch marks with glittery, rainbow colors.

But as fashion became more body positive, the push to make other institutions—including media, law, schools, and housing—more inclusive of people whose bodies have been marginalized was sidelined. Legislators have ramped up their attacks on trans and gender-expansive people, airlines still make it difficult for plus-size people to travel, and the Department of Education is dismantling protections for people with disabilities. Yet, body positivity morphed to almost exclusively focus on fashion, empowerment, and selling products. It was a complete departure from the radical politics of fat acceptance, the movement that birthed body positivity. As we reflect on the (bygone) age of #bodypositivity, we should ask: What were the aims of the movement, who got centered and celebrated, and what bodies were considered “good bodies?”