So posts like this make folks uncomfortable, often leading to three kinds of reactionary (and unhelpful) comments. Even though we all have insecurities, self-confidence is not my major struggle.The first will be from those folks who insist that I must really have low self-esteem about my weight and that it must be coming through to the dudes I’m meeting. The only way to live in my body, doing the work I do, is to be confident.Now I never thought I’d find my prince charming in a club. So no matter how much Big Boi proclaimed back in 2003 that “Big Girls need love, too,” I don’t think the other ATLiens got the message.
I wish I could say that this experience was isolated, but it’s been more the rule rather than the exception for me.
I think of all that CRUNK club-hopping I did in ATL back in the early days of the CFC.
And a third, fundamentally more well-meaning group, will come over an give anecdotes about all the thick chicks they know who have male partners.
The number will usually total up to no more than 2 or 3 mind you.
Even so, one could argue that these mainstream films reflect the desires of white America, or more to the point, white men, and not Black men, which up to this point is the only group of men I’ve dated.
But with brothers I find, that they, too, have internalized a particular relationship to the body-type most associated with the mammy figure.
They see girls like me as sisters, as homegirls, but not as love options, because they don’t find big girls sexy.
They usually find us I know there is this myth in Black America that brothers like their sisters thick, thick like a luscious milkshake, that “brings all the boys to the yard,” as it were.
I know that we have huge problems with obesity in Black communities.
I have thought long and hard about my relationship to food (and exercise), and I have started to make some changes in order to remain healthy.
Those stories ring hollow, because they ultimately amount to a futile attempt to amass enough exceptions to disprove the rule.