The thing is, I’m not defined by any one part of my identity, but all of the pieces come together to make me who I am.
I often wonder about the discrepancies between who I know myself to be, and how others perceive me based on their preconceived notions and stereotypes about what it means to show up in the world in a body like mine. I am acutely aware of the differences between what I know to be true about my existence, and what other people assume my reality to be.
It is a tension I know well, and a tight rope I have learned to walk with profound grace and skill. It is a complex existence that provides both the frustration of feeling trapped and boxed in by other people’s false perceptions and fantastical expectations and the excitement of blazing your own trail and defying convention with every move.
There is never a moment where I am not aware of my unique opportunity and responsibility to tell my own story, define my own experience, and forever alter the way other people see and understand the world around them.
Sometimes with incredible amounts of thought, intention, and foresight, and sometimes totally naturally through basic day-to-day conversations and interactions, I’m always challenging and changing the narrative around what it means to live life in a fat, visibly disabled body, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.
Whether through selfies and other visual content on Instagram, or through sharing my perspective and experiences in a range of personal essays, articles, and interviews, it is my mission to live openly, unapologetically, and without shame in the body I was given, despite the prevailing narrative in the world that labels people and bodies like mine as problematic or somehow inherently less than others.
While all of that is certainly an important, undeniable aspect of my reality in the way I interact with the world, it is far from being a complete picture of me. That is to say, while those parts of my experience are inescapable and honest, they alone don’t remotely begin to scratch the surface or provide even a summary of who and what I am.
You may be wondering what that picture really looks like, or what the unabridged version of my story has to offer in terms of hidden gems and never-before-seen moments.
Well, let me tell you!
Those of you who’ve been around my little slice of the universe for a while probably know that I am an unabashed fashionista, make-up maven, and mistress of the manicure.
Also true, but maybe a little less well-known are my bookworm tendencies, passion for sound-tracking every moment of my life, and love of all forms of storytelling, visual, auditory, or otherwise.
You might also know that representation, true accessibility, and authentic inclusivity are paramount to me in all aspects of life.
You might be thinking “okay, that's great and all, but what exactly do all of these things have in common, and more importantly, why are you even bothering to share all this with the world now?”
Well, the thing is, I’ve been thinking a lot lately about the importance of finding authentic and beautiful moments of joy, silliness, amazement, and pure delight in our everyday lives, and I’ve been thinking about the importance of showing people in bodies like mine in all our complexities.
In truth, despite what dominant culture often shows us, things like disability, body size, gender identity, sexual and/or romantic attraction types and styles, race, or any of the various other complex and layered identities that make up each and every one of us profoundly impact the way we move through and experience the world around us. Each identity we hold, and the way those identities come together play a part in the people we are always in the process of becoming.
So many times though, people in marginalized bodies are not truly seen and understood in all their complexities and complicated beauty. Instead, the dominant culture sees us and depicts us as one-dimensional beings.
Our stories are often told as ones of “overcoming” or “conquering” some aspect of our identities. Positive elements of our lives and personalities are often seen as existing in opposition to or in spite of some part of our identity, and every success is celebrated with a qualifier, while every tragedy or failure is seen as an obvious product or result of the way our bodies show up in the world, when in reality, oftentimes nothing could be further from the truth.
Existing in a marginalized body is definitely complicated, and it is certainly not without its ups and downs, but it is one piece of a larger story of who a person is. It can’t be ignored, for sure, because, in many instances, such as in my experience, it colors every aspect of the way people move through, experience, and interpret the world around them, but it is also not sufficient on its own to define who someone is, who they want to be, what matters to them, what brings them joy, and what brings them heartbreak.
It seems obvious, but it really needs to be said, no two people are exactly alike, no matter how similar they may seem. People deserve to be seen, understood, loved, and accepted for everything that they are, not in spite of any part of themselves or their story.
As a disabled, fat person, I’ve been told so many times not to let my disability or my body size define me, and almost every time I hear something along these lines, I have to resist the overwhelming urge to roll my eyes or let out a heavy, exacerbated sigh, because this sentiment so often misses the mark and presents a super oversimplified concept of what it means to be human, and what it means to be whole.
So often, when people admonish me not to be “defined” by some important aspect of my identity, what they really mean is, “try harder to fit into the dominant and prevailing ideas of normalcy and acceptability.”
In so many of these situations, what people who rail against allowing yourself to be “defined by, a, more times than not, oppressed or less privileged identity, are actually saying, is, “can you please stop making me uncomfortable by reminding me about the disparities in the way we experience the world?”
The real irony in these admonishments and advisements is the assumption that I, as a person in a marginalized body, am the one who defined the narrative in the first place. What I mean is, so many times when people tell you not to be defined by disability, body size, gender identity, race, or any other identity, it is only because you are existing and living your life in a way that does not fit into their preconceived notions of what it means to exist in a body like yours.
So many times people who don’t want you to be defined by the way your body shows up in the world feel that way because they have spent their whole lives stereotyping and defining entire swaths of people who share certain characteristics in one way or another, and it is incredibly uncomfortable to face up to the fact that the way you experience what it means to be human and exist in society is always filtered through the unique intersections that you exist in between.
I can’t help but laugh when people tell me not to let my disability, my body size, or anything else about me define me because it shows me just how little they know, or care to know, about me and my story.
The truth is, I have never “let” my disability, my body size, who and how I love, what I believe, or anything else about me, seen or unseen, public or private, “define me”, because neither I nor any person, can be defined by one aspect of their identity and story.
The very idea that I let my identities define me falsely suggests that accepting or finding pride in the authentic display of your existence makes you one-dimensional.
It erroneously proclaims that when you’re marginalized, being open and true to yourself is a negative thing, and suggests that owning any of the multiple aspects of your identity means that that is all you are and that there is no room for you to be anything else. Not only is this a super narrow-minded, myopic, and overly simplistic understanding of human existence, it is also, quite simply, just not true.
I’m not defined by my disability, my body size, or anything else, but they are an indisputable, undeniable, essential part of my entire story. If claiming these aspects of myself means being defined by them, then I guess I am, but to me, that’s a pretty sad, one-dimensional, understanding of the complex, complicated, sometimes difficult, but usually beautiful, epic saga that is my existence.
When people tell me not to be defined by these things, they’re usually asking me to ignore the role they play in making me exactly who I am.
I’m not defined by any one part of my identity, but all of the pieces come together to make me who I am. There is no way to separate any of my identities from the rest of my humanity, because they are the filter through which my experiences take place, and through which every chapter of my story Is told.
I’m not the one who needs to stop defining myself by any aspect of my identity, because I understand that each part of my identity plays a pivotal role in my story. When I talk about being fat, or disabled, or anything else, I’m not defining myself as nothing more than these labels, I am saying that these things are always there in everything I do, impacting every story I tell, every fear I have, and every decision I make, but they are not the sum of my existence and my humanity.
In the book of life, these things are the pen, the ink, and the blank pages I was given to work with. They are absolutely essential to bringing the story to life, but they don’t make a story all on their own.
When everything is all said and done, it is impossible to break a journal full of writing, or an epic tale back down to each individual solitary element that had to come together to bring into existence, and the same is true with me.
You can’t separate any one of my identities from any other aspect of my existence, it’s just not possible. There is no clear delineation or line that indicates where each of my identities ends and some other undefined part of my humanity begins.
I am a whole person.
I am not now, nor have I ever been defined by any one thing, but rather by the sum of all these parts, along with a few other important elements, of course.
I would be nothing without a bit of sarcasm, a flair for the dramatic, a deep sense of empathy, compassion, and an unwavering belief in my responsibility to play my part in making the world a better place.
I am equal parts cheekiness, sassiness, sharp wit, dark humor, a little too much self-doubt and self-deprecation, and a whole lot more hope in our collective potential for good than I will often publicly admit.
I am a hint of whiskey sours, staying up past midnight, breaking the rules, and creating trends.
I am the one telling as many stories as I’ve read and falling hopelessly in love with the most unexpected people and places, time and time again.
I am a modern American dream girl made up of the collective lessons of history books, folklore, and fairytales.
I am logic and creativity combined, an existence born out of as many nightmares as daydreams, the perfect mix of realism and fantastical fantasies.
I live in the sweet spot where sunrises and sunsets meet in a brilliant shade of orange.
I am the best part of tea time In London and random run-ins with old friends and new acquaintances in busy city coffee shops.
I embody and radiate the kind of delight that can only be found on rainy days and warm sunny mornings.
I am that one shade of lipstick that matches every outfit just right.
I am that daring, bold nail polish that instantly ignites a contagious spark of confidence that will always shine bright.
I am a style all my own, made of brightly patterned dresses with the right amount of flare and of course, the perfect pair of sneakers.
I am the radical, intersectional, feminist love child of American Girl Dolls, dress-up days, and every battle fought, and ongoing to recognize the inherent dignity and equity of all.
I am the product of endless choices, wild dreams, terrifying nightmares, and impossible possibilities.
I am cheesy playlists, cinnamon spice, crisp October air, and the kind of magic only found on Christmas morning and Halloween night.
I am the breaker of cycles and repeated generational trauma reenacted over and over again on different characters and altered scenes of eerily similar existences, ready to ask necessary and hard questions, while still remaining true to the traditions that formed me and kept me from breaking apart in the toughest moments.
I am the teachings and lessons of Jesus, always reminding myself to love people where they’re at, and refrain from judging another person’s existence, with a heavy helping of cynicism towards institutional power.
Depending on perspective, I can wholeheartedly and absolutely guarantee, I am one of my ancestor’s worst nightmares, and another one’s wildest, unimaginable, seemingly impossible dream, all at once.
I’m a one-time princess who learned that crowns and titles are beyond overrated, and desperately craving something different, opted to stop waiting around for some pre-determined, cookie-cutter, narrowminded happy ending, choosing instead to go my own way and learn to activate the magic and power that has always been deep within my heart and soul.
I am the legacy of outcasts, rebels, revolutionaries, and witches, feared by those who can’t be bothered to understand that challenging the status quo and speaking truth to power is not optional, but necessary if we truly want to leave the world better than we found it.
Whether I like it or not, I am blazing trails, breaking barriers, and creating maps through my stubborn refusal to be anything less than exactly who I’ve always been meant to be.
I am the keeper of secrets, memories, and stories that once felt too dangerous to unleash to the world, but now have the power to ignite the fire of transformation and stir the winds of change.
I am the forgotten daughter of the idealized promises of freedom, justice, dignity, hope, individuality, and respecting your inherent worth enough not to light yourself ablaze just to keep others warm.
I am a literal hurricane forged of defying convention, challenging the status quo, and using my voice unapologetically and authentically to propel action towards a better and brighter future.
I am not a poster child or a one-dimensional, uncritical feel-good story, but rather, I am inspirational in all the ways people in bodies like mine are not allowed or supposed to be.
I am valuable for my radically authentic ways of showing up in the world, and I don’t exist as a reminder to more privileged people that they should be grateful because their life could always be worse.
I am learning and growing every second of every day, and I’m truly beyond grateful for every minute of it.
I am body and soul, laughter and tears, passionate love, and righteous anger all rolled into one.
I don’t often say it, but I’ve been broken and shattered far too many places, made stronger by adversity in ways I wish I didn’t have to be.
I am just as much philosophy, as I am sorcery, alchemy, religion, and spirituality.
I’m somehow, inexplicably, breakable as glass and tough as nails all at once.
I am disabled, and I am fat, and so many more things, too.
I am so many things, some known and left unsaid, others existing in the unknown, unexplored and, yet to be discovered places in my soul, but the thing is I am all of these things all at once and I can’t be any single, individual one of them in isolation from the others.
Every part of me is a separate entity in its own right which means the fullness of one part of me does not come at the expense of the completeness of another.
When new parts are discovered or make themselves known, I grow and change to accommodate these new discoveries, rather than twisting, breaking, contorting, and shrinking myself to fit into the old spaces and no longer feel right, or big enough to hold the many dualities of my existence.
I am no more one part of myself than I am any other part of me. I’m not a pie chart that can be easily divided and broken into pieces. I am all these things and so much more brought together to be an entirely new creation.
I don’t need to stop letting any of my identities define me, because when you really see me for everything I am, you will know I am impossible to define.
