I Am Only A Threat to Your Demons: Thank You Universal Standard!

On October 8th clothing company, Universal Standard, posted this photo to their IG account with the caption:

ALL OF US. AS WE ARE.  FOUNDATION. SIZES 00-40 COMING SOON.

I screamed! 

This photo of revolt model La'Shaunae standing confidently posing on top of the camera angle speaks for itself. Her melanin infused skin perfectly accentuates the blanc undergarments. She stares chin to shoulder, hand on hip, with her eyes glazed in purpose. Soul baring. Game annihilating. 

I screamed because I have NEVER seen my likeness modeling in mainstream media! EVER.

"Thank you Universal Standard!" I yelled so loudly at my phone that I accidentally summoned British Siri. Who responded, "No sweat." British Siri is so vain.

After staring at the ad for a bit I made the decision that I would buy something, anything, from Universal Standard. A company that takes the initiative to think of every consumer no matter race, size, age, gender, or religion deserves all the coins coming their way.

A few days later I was scrolling through Facebook and saw LaShaunae's Universal Standard ad on my timeline. This time it had been shared in a Natural Hair group I belong to. I wasn't surprised because this group rarely has posts about natural haircare anymore. I clicked on the image and saw that a member of the group posted it with the caption:

HERE WE GO GLORIFYING OBESITY AGAIN!

I screamed!

"What the #%$!?" I yelled so loudly at my phone that I accidentally summoned British Siri again. She responded, "I don't know how to respond to that." "I wasn't talking to you British Siri!"

This term "glorifying obesity" pisses me off! Society, much like British Siri, is so self absorbed that whenever you have to look difference in the face you attribute that difference to being wrong or abnormal. There are over 7 billion people on earth. Everyone doesn't look like you and they don't have to. Having a fat woman as a model in an ad disturbs the human psyche so much that people actually become offended by the audacity. When a skinny model is on the cover of every publication known to man no one says, "here we go glorifying bulimia again." Why? Because who are we to label this woman bulimic? And most importantly, a woman no matter her size, deserves has the right to exist in the world and see other women who look like her existing, loving, dreaming, striving, working, believing, and succeeding! Furthermore, the ad is promoting clothing for women sizes 00-40. The woman who reposted the ad with her moronic sentiments didn't even realize that the ad was inclusive (another one of society's buzz words) to her simple minded ass too.

See how sick people are?

No one "glorifies obesity" in this society. In fact many women no matter their weight are doing everything in their power to change their bodies. Giving a fat woman a word encouragement, hiring her to be a model in your shoot or act in your film is simply acknowledging that she is just as apart of this world as you are. I was even more flabbergasted that the negative and disrespectful comments were fueled by women experiencing their own set of discriminatory practices that women with black skin and natural hair most commonly face.

See how desperately people need healing?

We all need healing.

As a Black woman who has been labeled as "obese" and witnessing daily how much hate and disdain people have towards fat people is astonishing to me. I can't speak for all women who have been labeled obese before being labeled viable, but I will say this, whether you hate my fat body or love my fat body is your personal choice.

I am not asking for your permission to live my life.
I am not asking for your diagnosis or predictions of life expectancy.
I am not asking for your opinions or labels.
I am not asking for anything.
I am here.
I exist in the very same world you are in.
Every pound.
All of me.
So whenever you see me walking down the street, out to eat, shopping, in the gym, in ads, on screen, in the classroom or the boardroom my fatness doesn't diminish my humanity.
Stop trying to shrink me, hide me, break me, silence me.
I am only a threat to your demons.
Please get well soon.

October: Where Do I Start?

Painting by Hannah Whitman

October is off to an interesting start ain't she?

The elected good ole boys and girls just confirmed and swore in the second sexual predator (that we know of) to the highest court in the land. That "and girls" part of the statement adds even more infuriation into the mix.

Political party outweighs humanity year 242. 

And still we have to gather and rally to encourage folks to vote? After the incredulous 1 year and 261 days we've had under this current administration? No one should have to beg anyone who can vote to vote. PERIOD.

Though I love a good opinion piece, this disease of ataxia that continues to permeate the nation isn't my idea of my personal literary worth. Therefore I will conclude my brief rant with the age old adage, "you reap what you sow." Be ye prepared dear geriatric purebreds.



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October also brings a day off with free time to write on this rightfully warm Indigenous Peoples' Day. I know this could easily transition into another well-deserved rant but I will not succumb.

In the first week of October I've also had the opportunity to meet with my new therapist. Now, if you've been following my blog you know that I really liked my previous therapist. That's rare for me because even though I can write down my feelings generally well, talking about them with other people is always a struggle. I decided to transition to another therapist because I felt a shift in my goals for therapy and felt I needed a therapist who used different holistic approaches to their therapeutic practice. To make it plain and simple I'm changing and so are my needs. I have to admit it does feel like a break up.

Apprehensively, I sought out a new therapist which believe it or not isn't an easy feat. This particular therapist was referred to me by my insurance care coordinator and she is apart of the Therapy for Black Girls network. I felt like it was meant to be. Before the confidentiality speech she started our session by saying, "you have to excuse me, but I have adult acne..." I wanted to plug the dry lotion by Mario Badescu but the last thing I wanted to do was project my non esthetician product junkie habits on to her so I just smiled. Real human interaction is always great right? So often talking to a therapist can feel like talking to a robot.

Prior to our appointment she had me complete several intake forms to see if we'd be a good fit. Imagine if we did this in our romantic relationships too? During the visit she went back over the form and asked me to elaborate on each question. My one word/one sentence answers were no longer acceptable.

I was in the trenches.

The battleground of personal thoughts and life events.

Forced to regurgitate feelings and shit.

Cue the eye sweat amidst looking for the nearest exit.

She listened, looked, and occasionally took notes. Towards the end of the session she had organized my thoughts into categories and said, "here are 5 categories we are going to work on but we can only work on one at a time. Which one would you like to start with first?"

I couldn't answer.

I knew why I sought therapy.

I knew what I hoped to gain by seeking therapy.

I thought my start was having the courage to walk into her office.

I thought that if I made it to her office she'd handle the rest.

"You are in the driver's seat of your life, Cynthia. I'm just a passenger. You tell me where you want to go and I will go with you as you drive us there."

Where should I drive first?