By Ouss Badran, Contributor
cw: mentions of homophobia, transphobia, ableism
A concerning trend that I’ve noticed — especially in more socially aware places such as university — is people adopting the label of “ally” and not actually doing anything about being one. In other words, they’re reaping the positive status of the word without actively being an ally.
What do I mean by this? There seems to be a misunderstanding when it comes to what being an ally actually entails. I can tell you that it isn’t like an article of clothing you can put on or take off at your convenience. Those who are actually marginalized can’t shed their identity at a moment’s notice, so neither should you.
So what actually is an ally? Well, for one, allies are people who are not part of the marginalized group for which they are advocating for. You don’t have to necessarily know what it feels like to be oppressed or experience the difficulties that marginalized groups go through. All being an ally means is that you are taking on and understanding their struggle with them.
If you’re new to the concept of allyship, being an advocate is a great start! This means, for example, not just claiming the title of ally because you watch RuPaul’s Drag Race, but actually fighting for better LGBTQ+ representation in the media.
Additionally, this also includes defending said marginalized groups when they’re not in the room, and especially when they are. What do I mean by this? On a more subtle scale, calling out bigoted comments such as “that’s so gay” or the use of the r-word publicly challenges the status quo and reinforces that these sorts of comments are not okay in any shape or form.
On the more extreme end, if you see a marginalized person disparaged in public or even private spaces, it’s your responsibility as an ally to stand up for them. Yes, that includes your racist grandparents and it also includes your parents who “just don’t understand all that transgender nonsense”.
While I don’t want to get too much into the intricacies of intersectionality (as it deserves its own article), I do want to touch on privilege. Most of us have it in some way, shape or form. Nowadays, the very word sets people on edge, and some people may even get defensive. Don’t worry straight, white dudes, I’m not going to attack you. For the sake of this article, privilege is an aspect of society or reality that you don’t have to worry about, but something that another marginalized group does.
For example, I’m speaking mainly from my experiences as a gay, able-bodied and cisgender man of colour. I face certain issues that are relevant to me and other people of my background, but I also lack knowledge and perspective on what it’s like to be a woman, a person under the trans umbrella or someone who has a physical disability. Being aware of your own privilege as an ally can potentially help you understand the struggles of the groups you’re advocating for.
Also, I mean this with all due respect, but if you are an ally, it isn’t about you. Bragging about how you support the Black Lives Matter movement, or about how you “only volunteer at camps for kids with special needs” makes you come off in a not-so-positive light. Specifically, it makes you look like you’re using these groups for your own social gain. Rein in the saviour complex and instead have some respect for those around you who fight for social justice out of a need to survive, not because it looks good on a resume.
So, if I’ve successfully convinced you to change your ways, there’s just one more thing for me to address with you. It’s that making mistakes is completely okay. Everyone has to learn somehow! Acknowledge it, accept responsibility, learn from it and move on equipped with the knowledge you have now.
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By: Eden Wondmeneh
As a first-year student in social sciences, the bulk of my tutorial grade is determined by my participation in discussions. For someone who would rather be restricted to eating at Centro than be forced to speak in public, tutorials are not my ideal environment.
As the fall semester progressed, I noticed that some of these discussions supported learning while others were downright problematic. Speaking to other students in social sciences, specifically students of colour, it was clear that teaching assistants, who greatly influenced whether tutorial discussions were the former or the latter, were overwhelmingly white.
The lack of diversity in TAs is often juxtaposed with a somewhat diverse student group — where students of colour bond over the shared discomfort or hilarity of the awkwardness that settles across the room anytime a ‘hot topic’ like white privilege is brought up.
Discussions about race are often excluded from acceptable topics in an environment that claims to encourage academic discourse, especially when initiated by a person of colour: a fact that aided in my decision to stay relatively quiet in tutorials.
Regardless of their intentions, these TAs are in a position of power where they facilitate discussions about systems of oppression that they themselves benefit from and resultantly teach students through this narrow-privileged lens. If topics of race are not dismissed after a moment of awkward silence, they always seem condescending; what qualifies non-POC TAs to lead these discussions?
I have a friend whose TA explained how common sense differs between cultures using a blatantly racist analogy of African children never having seen a stove thus not knowing that it is unsafe to touch. When called out for their ignorance, the TA’s response was some variation of, “I’m not racist”.
The Teaching in an Accessible and Inclusive Community section of McMaster University’s 2013 TA guide shows that the diversity and inclusion issue in tutorial sessions is much worse than it appears. The university is aware of the power imbalances that are inherent to the limited diversity amongst TAs — they just aren’t doing anything about it.
Despite their ability to recognize that acknowledgment of systemic racism is not enough to let them off the hook, they boldly state that McMaster staff and faculty work “against often invisible systems of privilege and oppression,” without giving TAs any guidance in how to further this effort within their own tutorials. In fact, the guidebook makes it clear that it is naïve to believe that even a well-intentioned TA could use any tips provided to create an equitable space within their tutorials.
To be clear, I don’t think that TAs are intentionally leading their tutorials to isolate students of colour and validate the dominant privileged narrative that exists within our society. I do believe though that the hiring process for TAs is flawed, as it works directly against McMaster’s “fight against invisible systems of privilege and oppression”.
There should be a great number of Black TAs who are able to lead tutorials with a different perspective, engage with Black students and have important conversations about race when the course calls for it.
Aside from increasing the diversity amongst TAs, there should be mandatory anti-oppression workshops and training. It is unrealistic to hope that TAs will suddenly diversify, but it is not unrealistic to hope that current TAs have an understanding of their bias and are able to react to being called out productively — not through cries of, “I am not racist”.
For myself to feel comfortable to contribute freely within these tutorials, I need there to be measures in place for the inevitable awkwardness that ensues when race is discussed and a guarantee that Black children won't be used in racist examples.
We don't live within a vacuum. To create the “inclusive and accessible learning environment” that McMaster desires, TAs need to reflect this inclusivity and accessibility students are meant to find.
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If you’re an avid reader of the Silhouette, then you’d know our annual rendition of Sex and the Steel City, much like the paper itself, has evolved quite a bit over the past couple of years.
Putting together this year’s sex-positive publication meant embracing the diverse ideas around sexuality, love and health. It’s about creating a non-judgemental space where experiences can be shared, identities are expressed and art can be enjoyed.
Through Sex and the Steel City we were also able to explore Hamilton’s history, challenge the issues our communities’ face and open eyes to future possibilities with passion and dedication.
Every word and visual in this issue is also a reflection of the privileged position we, as a publication, are in to unapologetically express ourselves. A position that has been continuously denied to people historically and as of late.
For this reason our cover includes re-creations of stills from the recently discovered film Something Good - Negro Kiss. Directed by William Selig in 1898, the film depicts the earliest on-screen kiss between two Black stage entertainers and challenges the racist caricature prevalent in popular culture. In the 29-second silent film, Saint Suttle and Gertie Brown convey undeniable expression of love, pleasure and happiness.
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We hope to continue the conversation around barriers that continue to marginalize identities today while also celebrating everything good they have to share.
Sex and the Steel City is a hopeful expression that love will prevail.
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I breathed a sigh of relief Sunday night. Leonardo DiCaprio has officially received his Oscar. You may have seen the deluge of memes, gifs, and video compilations all protesting his lack of Academy recognition. I have never seen the Internet collectively want something so badly. “Please God,” I said, eyes skyward, “let this be the last I hear about how mean the Academy has been to little Leo.”
Don’t get me wrong, I think DiCaprio is a brilliant actor, but in a year that the Oscars have been boycotted for being unapologetically and overwhelmingly white, all the fanfare surrounding one white dude left a bad taste in my mouth. Now that we can all sleep soundly knowing Leo has finally made his parents proud, the time has come to stop praising white guys for things that the rest of us do without fanfare. Here to help is my list of five places to start:
1) Winning awards
Yeah, we get it. White guys are good at being awarded stuff. When almost everyone winning an award looks pretty much the same, why are we still excited over a predictable result? Things may be looking up; I take solace in the fact that the proposed scholarship intended for white heterosexual people at the University of Western and the University of Windsor was struck down by the Ontario Superior Court last week. Progress.
2) Stay at home dads
Or for that matter, Dads who help with parenting at all. You do not get brownie points for doing things that women have been obliged to do for centuries. Frankly, I don’t care if you are overcoming gender stigma to be an effective parent, because you are not the only one doing so (see also: single mothers). Dads who change diapers are not heroes for dealing with the same crap we do.
3) Embracing their dad bods
Look, I am all for body positivity. Regardless of who you are, you deserve to feel happy in your skin. However, I am pissed that when people of color and women accept (or even dare to celebrate) their appearances it is considered egotistical and vain, while when white dads do it, it is amusing and charming. Congratulations on inviting yourselves to the feminist body positivity party, just don’t expect me to be ecstatic when you are praised for arriving late and partying harder than we do.
4) Not being sexist/racist/etc.
I’m looking at you Matt McGorry. If this list were in any meaningful order, this would be number one. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve seen men praised for simply not being the-biggest-douche-to-ever-douche. I absolutely refuse to praise you for not using that racist word, I won’t give you kudos for not committing sexual assault, you are not my personal Jesus for using someone’s correct pronouns. Recognizing your privilege and working to overcome it makes you a half-decent human being. Welcome to the club.
5) Teaching us stuff
I’m really happy that you read that article or saw that documentary, but please stop trying to teach people how they are oppressed. As someone who has had firsthand experience with sexism, I’m not going to be impressed when you try and tell me about the intricacies of the wage gap. This by the way is not a dude-exclusive problem; white feminists have a long history of lecturing down to, or “teaching” people of color about racism. Rule of thumb: teach those who need to hear it most, i.e. other people with your privileges who refuse to recognize there is a problem. I promise you will get significantly less praise than you do preaching to the choir, but instead you will potentially make a difference.
In the end, making that difference is exactly what this comes down to. Would you rather enact change by addressing your own privilege? Or be angry at this article for stereotyping all white men? It is difficult to reject what you have been told your entire life — that you have earned every one of your victories without an unearned advantage. If you do manage to do the right thing, just know I’m not lining up to thank you for your decency.
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By: Natassja Francis
As a black woman, it is remarkably hard to project my voice. This may take some by surprise, as black women are seemingly always cast as outspoken; the loud and obnoxious lionesses whose animalistic vocalizations cannot be contained. Life through adolescence and into adulthood has taught me the truth: societal forces are working against us to silence our voices and retain the distasteful stereotype of everything we are not.
It happens in every institution, including university. Systemic, oppressive behaviour is most often hiding under the farce of “neutrality.” It may be through the micromanagement tendencies of white peers towards a student of colour guised as “help.” It may be through a white friend or acquaintance failing to address the racist actions of his or her significant other, but insisting that they themselves do not see colour. It may be because a person of colour disagrees with a white peer, and as a result, other white peers avoid the person of colour in the name of “not getting involved.” All of these contexts are examples of “microaggressions,” or seemingly small but powerful and impactful acts of racism. The lack of a conscious effort to end microagression is what enables the persistence of racism, small and large.
A significant factor in the disregard of microagressions is the concept of white fragility. This dynamic plays out in media constantly. While people of colour are largely portrayed in film and in history as powerhorses who can handle virtually anything, white people, and even more particularly white women, are often painted as fragile and innocent glass ornaments. Due to this long-running and culturally ingrained perception of racial roles, it’s a lot easier for any member of the white community to subconsciously compare a stallion to a glass ornament in any situation and opt to hold the stallion back for fear of the ornament cracking at the slightest touch. The trope of the innocent white girl is, of course, unfounded. I’ve often seen the opposite ensue, where white women are both hyperaggressive and refuse to accept responsibility for their actions because they have been taught that in social situations, they are always innocent.
Microaggressive behaviour is often more harmful than overt racism because of white denial and the minimizing of conflict, along with microaggressive tendencies having become largely normalized in our culture. Although when I speak out I have been threatened with the trope of an angry black woman, I am choosing from this point forward to use my voice. People of colour cannot continue to be the brunt of implicit or covert racism. We have fed into the illusion for too long. Now is our time to unanimously make our voices heard.
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By: Ismaël Traoré
Brock University has been in the news lately for a Halloween party hosted by Isaacs/BUSU, where a group of four people (three white men and one brown man) dressed as the Jamaican Bobsled team and the three white men wore blackface: they painted their faces so they can “look” black — which apparently means shoe polish-like.
They won first place for best costume, which came with a $500 stipend. This is the third time I am aware of this happening at Isaacs. The first was in 2007. An all-white Bobsled team with blackface won second place. The second, in 2009, saw a white male with blackface emulating Lil Wayne. He won first prize with an $800 prize. Isaacs promised to not repeat their mistake when it was brought to their attention in 2009. Yet here we are, again.
Blackface has played a powerful role in the trauma and holocaust of black persons. An example of this is the movie Birth of Nations that revitalized the Klan. Because trauma is passed on generationally, we cannot dismiss how the past affects us today. The practice of cross-race painting by white persons triggers generational pain, and perpetuates cultural racism. Cultural racism, specifically discursive racism, is when a dominant group uses mediums of communication (ie. popular media, education, etc) to speak about, rather than with, a minority group, and in a manner that is negatively selective.
in these same channels of communication. While some may banalize it as mere talk — “get over it” — discourses shape our implicit thoughts, are stored in our collective cultural repertoire, and explain, for instance, why in a 2002 study by Joshua Correll and colleagues, titled “The Police Officer’s Dilemma, a Study on the Fatality of a Fraction of a Second,” white participants were quicker at shooting an armed black man in a video game simulation.
The fear-mongering of Muslims as terrorists is an example of this. Cultural racism not only is the practice of a dominant group speaking about an oppressed group selectively and stereotypically, but it also silences or tokenizes their voice than an armed white man, and more likely to not shoot an unarmed white target than an unarmed black target.
In short, white participants hesitated longer to shoot armed or unarmed white men, and were more likely to not shoot them when not armed and to misperceive unarmed black men as armed. White life matters more. These results were found not to be related to cognitive prejudice, but knowledge of racial stereotypes associated with black men that implicitly induce bias.
Blackface is a discursive medium through which white persons in the past and in the present practice cultural racism by perpetuating stereotypes about black persons through costumes, by selectively “representing” black persons. It is not a coincidence that blackface costumes nowadays are primarily of rappers, gangsters, or athletes. This is a reflection of the white imagination of black identity and black life. It is also what author Chimamanda Adichie speaks about in her fascinating TED talk called “The Danger of a Single Story.”
Many Jamaicans consider Cool Runnings offensive for it misrepresents Jamaicans by exaggerating a caricature, playing on stereotypes of “yes mawn,” and giving the save the day role to yet another white person. The actors were not even Jamaican. So while some may think a Bobsled blackface costume is “praising” or “celebrating” Jamaicans or Black people, this could not be further from the truth for it perpetuates stereotypes, continues a practice of cultural racism, and triggers and creates more generational trauma.
There is another matter to ponder: why is the practice of cross-race painting significant- ly over-represented by white persons and under-represented by persons of color? The very fact that “whiteface” is so infrequent as to be negligible is not a coincidence considering that behaviours do not occur in a vacuum. It is a reflection of a racial order that practices racism that has made it possible for white persons to consider blackness as a “thing”; to dehumanize blackness to an object such that it can be taken apart from the humans that have said skin colour, to then “wear” blackness without regard to how this may impact onlookers who are black, to “wear” blackness without a sense of repercussion or accountability whatsoever, and to defend continuing a practice that offends others by using target-blaming and “stop being insensitive” privileged rhetorics.
The blackface of the Brock bobsled team is less a reflection of costume accuracy, and more of a racialized order hierarchy and continuing history that encourages the mocking, fetishizing, and appropriation of those who are marginalized and have less social qua discursive influence. This behaviour exists within a culture that gives power to its dominant majority and absolves them from their action.
It is also a behavior that exists within a culture in which mainly, though not exclusively, white persons do not have to develop racial etiquette and cross-cultural competency to exist. Persons of colour, by the very nature of them being marginalized, do not have the luxury to take skin-colour issues lightly for skin-colour has material consequences.
Rick Kanary
The Silhouette
The excitement was palpable as the 777 from Cathay Pacific touched down on the runway in Singapore.
All the sights through the jet's window were new and exciting, it was literally a jungle out there− even at an industrial site like the airport. As I made my way off of the plane, I was possessed with a feeling of grandeur, similar to the awe inspired in a child at Christmas. I just couldn't wait to get out of the confines of the airport and soak in this wonderful and exotic foreign land.
I successfully made my way through customs to find my father and three of his business associates waiting for me with a luggage cart. Each of them could sense my new luminescence, and made jovial remarks about it. My father and I needed to catch an airbus to Kuala Lumpur in a few hours so we all decided to grab a quick coffee, sat around a quaint cafe table and discussed culture, currency, and travel. I polished up my latte, we said our goodbyes, and my father and I made our way to the gate for our airbus.
Once we landed in Kuala Lumpur, we made our way onto the tarmac into the overwhelming humidity. As the Canadian I am, I was dressed for our late fall weather, which I realized was clearly counter productive as the blast of heat washed over me.
We followed the queue past various baggage handling vehicles and equipment, eventually finding ourselves in the airport to make our way through a security check and retrieve our baggage.
One of my father's three associates, a lovely woman by the name of Angeline, had already made arrangements for a driver to pick us up from Kuala Lumpur International Airport and bring us to our hotel, which was located in KL's embassy district. Thank goodness I took as many shots as I could through the cab's windows because the drive was a reverie, a quilt of exotic multicultural buildings and landscapes mixing Indian, Thai, Chinese, and Malay influences.
The hotel was quite a nice place with a peculiar architectural design. There were fountains throughout the main floor, with a row of rubber plants growing against a greenhouse style overhang. Much of it was open concept, with various apertures to the outdoors. But, this is not meant to be a memoir of architecture or travel. I write this particular article to address the overwhelming gratitude I feel to be a McMaster student, and a Canadian Citizen.
This was a business trip, but I was also committed to keeping up on my lectures and schoolwork. Thus my days began early and ended very late. A lot of my time was spent presenting training modules to Great Eastern Life's team of trainers, and in the hotel room, smoking, typing, reading and postulating.
Amidst this hectic schedule, we did find time to visit the city, which is quite an incredible place, mixing influences from so many different cultures that it was a sensory overload. The sights were wonderful, the food sumptuous, and the people thought-provoking. This brings me to my reasons for feeling such immense gratitude.
One evening, while Skyping my girlfriend, Kristin, the housekeeper had come in to tend to my room. While he was making my bed I made my way to my father's room to pick up a few things and Kristin, who had had a few drinks with her friends prior to the call, decided to strike up a conversation with him. When I returned, an entire story unfolded that obviated any right to ever question how fortunate I am.
As it turns out, the housekeeper, who's name is Ken, had come to Kuala Lumpur on a work Visa from Bangladesh, leaving his wife and five-year-old son, whom he had never seen. He was contracted by an agency to work for the hotel, who had rented him a room at a hostel and paid him the sum of 900 Ringettes per month, which totals roughly 330 Canadian Dollars, all of which he sends back to his wife and family.
Ken works 12-hour days, six days a week. He shared a few stories of his life experiences in Bangladesh that would make your teeth rattle. Needless to say, Kristin immediately attached herself to Ken, requested his phone number and address, promised him she would look into immigration laws and a job opportunity. She was almost panic-stricken and I was aghast.
You hear stories, through the grapevine, through modern media outlets, in your textbooks, but that doesn't compare to shaking the man's hand. I promised him that I would look into the possibilities, and his gratitude was overwhelming. He returned to my room the day I was checking out, insisting we are brothers, that I must help him and his family come to Canada, speaking of our country like it was a mythical place.
I could discuss the differences between the two sides of the planet, but I would rather emphasize the similarities.
We all seek freedom, the peace of mind to be able to strive for more, and the dignity in being self-sufficient. This is NOT available everywhere to the same degree that we experience it here, particularly as students at such a fine university providing us with the cultural capital that millions across the world will never have the opportunity to earn. The years you spend here, learning, growing, living, are invaluable.
They are a social and cultural capital worth far more than any mundane printed-paper, manufactured good, or presupposed precious material.
Stephanie Mascarin
The Silhouette
Parents often tell their children that they can be whatever they want when they “grow up.” Teachers support this notion, decorating their walls with posters that have slogans like, “your attitude determines your altitude.” The media glamorously portrays young men and women with fun and prosperous careers. Society promotes hard work as the key for success.
What they don’t say, though, is that no one will help you get there.
Obtaining a university degree or college diploma in Ontario should be more affordable for students. As is engrained into children from elementary school onwards, education is a fundamental aspect of having a successful career. But with rising tuition costs it is increasingly difficult for students to afford this education. Coupled with rising credentialism and increased competition in the job market, this generation of students is faced with more obstacles than generations past.
In Ontario, the average student debt has increased and youth unemployment is higher. The game is the same as it was for past generations, but the rules have changed; a university or college education is still necessary to obtain a good job, but it is more costly.
Between 1976 and 2012, tuition costs in Ontario have more than doubled, from around $2,500 to $6,600 per year. Although the Ontario government offers the Ontario Student Assistance Program, or OSAP, not every student can qualify for this. OSAP is a government-funded student loan that is based on “educational plans and personal circumstances.” OSAP does help many students afford school, as they offer a combination of loans and grants that do not need to be paid back until the student’s schooling is complete. In this way, Ontario is making strides in the right direction for making college and university more affordable for students.
However, this loan does not apply to everyone; the amount of money a student and their parents earn during the fiscal year, through their income tax return form, determines if aid is offered and how much. It seems that an education is only obtainable for the upper class and those who are considered by the government to be financially needy. But what about the middle class? What about the average family who earns too little to pay tuition in full, yet too much to qualify for OSAP?
In 1990, an Ontario family on average would spend 93 percent of their disposable income on tuition for their child. This equated to about 87 workdays to pay off tuition debt for one child.
This figure has drastically increased to date, with tuition now costing 150 percent of their disposable income to put a child through school, which translates to 195 workdays to pay back the debt. For families with more than one child, these numbers become staggering. And students often need to obtain graduate or professional degrees to stay competitive, which substantially increases their debt. Students and their families get caught in this trap of needing to obtain an education that they simply cannot afford.
This ties into the issue of student unemployment, as graduates are finding it increasingly difficult to get a job to pay off this debt. This year, the unemployment rate for people age 15-24 was 15 per cent, which is double the unemployment rate of the general population. When graduates do find a job, it is often in fields that they are either overqualified for or ones that are unrelated to their degree. This is partially due to baby-boomers staying in the workforce longer, which is a variable that the education system cannot control.
However, the system can control how many students are accepted into programs with a low demand in the economy. Since schools do not do this, there are more graduates than jobs available. Students used to come out of school with a guaranteed job; now they come out with a piece of paper and $30,000 debt. Students are sent out to battle in the real world being told they have ammo, but instead they are given blanks.
It is evident that this needs to change. Imbedded in higher education is the notion of exclusion; part of what makes a degree or diploma so valuable is that it is specialized and elite. However, this exclusion should only be based on academics.
Why should someone’s financial situation affect the level of education they are able to obtain?
Privileging the wealthy, or those who can qualify for funding like OSAP, over other students is not conducive to societal progression. Just because someone can afford school does not mean they will benefit society. Excluding a substantial portion of the population from being able to afford an education is limiting society’s potential; perhaps the next Steve Jobs will come from a low-income family.
This generation of graduate students is Ontario’s, Canada’s, and the world’s future. It is a shame that society leaves them so ill equipped to be successful in the real world—successful not only financially, but also personally. Imagine how productive students could be if they did not have to worry about staggering tuition debt, or if they could enter into the field of their choice. There might be fewer students entering the corporate rat race and more pursuing careers based simply on their passion.
For the sake of graduates and society, hopefully there will be at time when children can be whatever they want when they “grow up.”
By Talia Kollek
Earlier this year, much to the excitement of fans, The Hunger Games came to the cinema. The film was based upon Suzanne Collins’ book series, which portrays a dystopian future that pits children against each other in an arena to fight to the death. Cast as the resourceful protagonist was Jennifer Lawrence - a talented young actress from Kentucky. Upon her selection a few critics complained that her body did not accurately represent the role. Among the more civil objections included the opinion of Manohla Dargis of The New York Times, who claimed that [a] few years ago Ms. Lawrence might have looked hungry enough to play Katniss, but now, at 21, her seductive, womanly figure makes a bad fit. The Hollywood Reporter exemplified the less eloquent comments on the issue by referring to Lawrence’s problem as lingering baby fat. The remarks about Lawrence’s weight prompted her to give an interview on the subject to Elle magazine.
The interview should have been a step forward for the body positivity movement. Here we have an actress with quickly ascending fame that has publicly fallen victim to criticism of her body and has now been given a microphone. This was a chance to tell women everywhere that they too can be an actress, regardless of their size. What Lawrence unfortunately ended up accomplishing was what I like to call “skinny shaming,” or the degradation of skinny women.
In a response to the urgings to become thinner, Lawrence states that she wants “to look like a woman, [not] a little boy.” My question is how do you differentiate between the two looks? Is a small woman any less of a woman than a larger one? In connecting her womanhood to her size and shape, Lawrence only reaffirms comments made by reporters like Dargis, who imply that her voluptuousness is a key aspect to being female. Why would anyone trying to promote self-esteem want to alienate women who are a size 6 and smaller?
Before proceeding, I think it is important to acknowledge the privilege that comes with being a size that is favoured by the fashion industry. Being between the dress sizes of 4 to 12 means that you can walk into a store and most likely find clothing that you like and that will suit you. Being a size above or below this range makes shopping a nightmare. Working in retail, I have seen the struggles that some people have to go through to find an outfit that suits them. Being a size 16 myself, the most interesting phenomena I have encountered is that women around or above my size assume I am their ally in some war against skinny women everywhere. I have had customers openly degrade my slender female co-worker without knowing a thing about them, telling me how much they “hate her” and “people like her”. They quickly label themselves as “real women” and express disgust towards skinny bodies and those that find them attractive. Do skinny women have privilege when it comes to clothes shopping? Yes. Does that make them deserving of this type of treatment? No.
This war pitting fat against skinny should be recognized as an unnecessary conflict between women that only perpetuates self-hatred and unhealthy body image on both sides.
Instead of trying to change ourselves or each other, the body positivity movement must stop putting constraints on what constitutes womanhood and what is deemed attractive. In expressing her desire to stay a certain size and be a woman, not a “little boy, Lawrence is defining what a real woman should look like, dismissing those with a lower BMI as less worthy of a feminine identity.
Just to be clear, having preferences towards one body type or another is no crime, but being prescriptive about other people’s figures is unacceptable. Appreciate whatever physical features you enjoy and don’t be ashamed of it, but do not tell others what constitutes sex appeal.
The message Lawrence should have delivered in her interview is that all bodies are sexy and equally worthy of praise.
