Ooof. I straightened my hair for so many years after a friend told me my faced looked thinner when my hair was straight versus when I wore my naturally curly hair. I went back to wearing my hair curly maybe 10 years ago and am so glad I did. But that little comment still sticks with me when I look in the mirror.
I love this reflection. I am sewing a wardrobe for myself and dismantling the idea of "flattering" has been a core part of that so that I can choose the patterns that I enjoy, versus those that someone with my proportions "should" wear. I remember priding myself in choosing a flowy woven top I loved rather than the stretchy knit tops I'd worn for years while trying to appear smaller. But when I asked an advanced sewer why I had drag lines at my shoulders, she let me know I had chosen a size or even two sizes too small for my large bust. And I know, subconsciously, I did it out of a lingering fear that a flowy top would make me appear larger than I am. I was afraid to give up privilege by appearing more top-heavy than the body hierarchy's ideal. This stuff's going to take so so long to unpack and let go. But I'm glad to have started.
So interesting - even while you started to make your own clothes and could be free of the ideal body shape restrictions in mass produced clothing, you still felt like adhering to them. It’s all such a long process!
I love this post, thanks for writing it even though it felt hard. The first time I heard Taylor's description of the body hierarchy (about 6 months ago, I think), it blew my mind. I suddenly saw all the ways I've bought into it throughout my (very privileged) life. I've gotten better, but still have moments of falling back into that way of thinking, so it's really helpful to be in conversation about it.
Thank you so much for sharing your story, and for calling out this behavior. This is something I have done for years, and I notice it shows up more when I am anxious: large crowds, intimidating situations, power imbalance, etc. For me, this was a way I could feel “okay” in the absence of a real sense of self-worth. When I could not accept or feel peace with myself, I asked White Supremacy to do it for me. I grabbed that ladder rung, no question.
How little value I was willing to give the bodies of others, and how much I gave my own -- until it veered from its lane and no longer conformed, and I noticed myself slipping from the ladder. What an absolute systemic mindfuck. I have been working on this, and I appreciate your vulnerability.
Wow, so beautifully put. I absolutely did this as well, and I realized that I used my place on that ladder to make myself feel better about ways I felt deficient in some other area. Of course those deficiencies were all in my head as was the idea that my worth somehow resulted from my body.
Sonya Reneé Taylor was on Glennon Doyle’s podcast talking about this (episode 168 I think). They were discussing Glennon’s recent diagnosis with anorexia and how it pertains to hierarchy of bodies. It was really interesting to hear Sonya’s thoughts. Highly recommend.
I missed this post first time around. It reminded me of a recent conversation. I'm black, so am automatically kicked off the ladder which is mostly freeing, but can sometimes cause envy of those with a spot on it. I went to brunch with a Korean friend. I always dress up when out to brunch. Dressing up is part of the joy of fine food. Somehow the conversation veered to size. My friend lamented the fact that she'd gained weight in her middle (as everyone post-menopause does) and could barely wear her spring/summer wardrobe, that she is petite and absolutely cannot carry "extra" weight. She is an exquisite dresser so on some level I could understand being distraught about not fitting into her expensively curated closet. She said that she's apple shaped, looked at me and said with obvious envy, "You're tall and hourglass." Immediately discomfort washed over me and I found myself babbling about having inherited my father's body (save gender) which gave me a very flabby stomach, which I never show. I felt shame for feeling the need to hide my body, and make excuses for it, and worse of all, admitting my dance with disordered eating. In the end I decided that talking about bodies isn't polite conversation and managed to shift the focus.
Do I rank myself against those on the black ladder, because there's definitely a black ladder. Yes, I do. Do I fall into the trap of wanting to see myself as flattering. Yes, sometimes I do. As I age do I not so secretly bemoan my sunken cheeks, sagging jowls, beginnings of a long, stringy turkey neck, flabby stomach, and washboard thighs? Yup. Does all of this mean that I size up other black women? I'm teaching myself not to; it's jarring that I had to answer yes to this question. Did I ache for my friend? Definitely. I know what it feels like to look in the floor length mirror and be disgusted by the woman reflected there because white supremacy dictates that such is the appropriate response.
In many respects I wish I'd never gone into the greater world where I learned to judge. My parents created a kind of utopia where food ruled and chubby (it was the 60s and the word chubby was used) was equated with healthiness. (Everyone should have a chef in the family.) But alas, like everyone else I, too, came face-to-face with the standards of beauty crafted by white supremacy and even though automatically disqualified, members of my community crafted a parallel guide, one currently crowned Queen Bey.
What does this mean for me now? It manifests in borderline disordered eating. Rejecting 400 years of white supremacy is a tall order. I've always been good at showing up in the streets. Activism is my calling. I've built my entire life around it. Turning that work internally, though, may be one of the most difficult things I've ever tried to do.
Ooof. I straightened my hair for so many years after a friend told me my faced looked thinner when my hair was straight versus when I wore my naturally curly hair. I went back to wearing my hair curly maybe 10 years ago and am so glad I did. But that little comment still sticks with me when I look in the mirror.
Thank you for sharing this post!
Oh wow. I'm so glad you were able to let that (mostly) go!
I love this reflection. I am sewing a wardrobe for myself and dismantling the idea of "flattering" has been a core part of that so that I can choose the patterns that I enjoy, versus those that someone with my proportions "should" wear. I remember priding myself in choosing a flowy woven top I loved rather than the stretchy knit tops I'd worn for years while trying to appear smaller. But when I asked an advanced sewer why I had drag lines at my shoulders, she let me know I had chosen a size or even two sizes too small for my large bust. And I know, subconsciously, I did it out of a lingering fear that a flowy top would make me appear larger than I am. I was afraid to give up privilege by appearing more top-heavy than the body hierarchy's ideal. This stuff's going to take so so long to unpack and let go. But I'm glad to have started.
So interesting - even while you started to make your own clothes and could be free of the ideal body shape restrictions in mass produced clothing, you still felt like adhering to them. It’s all such a long process!
I love this post, thanks for writing it even though it felt hard. The first time I heard Taylor's description of the body hierarchy (about 6 months ago, I think), it blew my mind. I suddenly saw all the ways I've bought into it throughout my (very privileged) life. I've gotten better, but still have moments of falling back into that way of thinking, so it's really helpful to be in conversation about it.
I agree.
Thank you so much for sharing your story, and for calling out this behavior. This is something I have done for years, and I notice it shows up more when I am anxious: large crowds, intimidating situations, power imbalance, etc. For me, this was a way I could feel “okay” in the absence of a real sense of self-worth. When I could not accept or feel peace with myself, I asked White Supremacy to do it for me. I grabbed that ladder rung, no question.
How little value I was willing to give the bodies of others, and how much I gave my own -- until it veered from its lane and no longer conformed, and I noticed myself slipping from the ladder. What an absolute systemic mindfuck. I have been working on this, and I appreciate your vulnerability.
Wow, so beautifully put. I absolutely did this as well, and I realized that I used my place on that ladder to make myself feel better about ways I felt deficient in some other area. Of course those deficiencies were all in my head as was the idea that my worth somehow resulted from my body.
Yes, exactly!
This is so insidious. I've been working on dismantling this for years and it STILL creeps up on me.
Of course. There's a lot to dismantle.
Sonya Reneé Taylor was on Glennon Doyle’s podcast talking about this (episode 168 I think). They were discussing Glennon’s recent diagnosis with anorexia and how it pertains to hierarchy of bodies. It was really interesting to hear Sonya’s thoughts. Highly recommend.
Yes, I thought that was a great conversation too!
Dacy, this is really thought provoking. Thank you for including the link to your interview with Jennedy!
Her interview is illuminating, right?
Excellent post! Thanks for the links, too.
Thanks, Dana!
I missed this post first time around. It reminded me of a recent conversation. I'm black, so am automatically kicked off the ladder which is mostly freeing, but can sometimes cause envy of those with a spot on it. I went to brunch with a Korean friend. I always dress up when out to brunch. Dressing up is part of the joy of fine food. Somehow the conversation veered to size. My friend lamented the fact that she'd gained weight in her middle (as everyone post-menopause does) and could barely wear her spring/summer wardrobe, that she is petite and absolutely cannot carry "extra" weight. She is an exquisite dresser so on some level I could understand being distraught about not fitting into her expensively curated closet. She said that she's apple shaped, looked at me and said with obvious envy, "You're tall and hourglass." Immediately discomfort washed over me and I found myself babbling about having inherited my father's body (save gender) which gave me a very flabby stomach, which I never show. I felt shame for feeling the need to hide my body, and make excuses for it, and worse of all, admitting my dance with disordered eating. In the end I decided that talking about bodies isn't polite conversation and managed to shift the focus.
Do I rank myself against those on the black ladder, because there's definitely a black ladder. Yes, I do. Do I fall into the trap of wanting to see myself as flattering. Yes, sometimes I do. As I age do I not so secretly bemoan my sunken cheeks, sagging jowls, beginnings of a long, stringy turkey neck, flabby stomach, and washboard thighs? Yup. Does all of this mean that I size up other black women? I'm teaching myself not to; it's jarring that I had to answer yes to this question. Did I ache for my friend? Definitely. I know what it feels like to look in the floor length mirror and be disgusted by the woman reflected there because white supremacy dictates that such is the appropriate response.
In many respects I wish I'd never gone into the greater world where I learned to judge. My parents created a kind of utopia where food ruled and chubby (it was the 60s and the word chubby was used) was equated with healthiness. (Everyone should have a chef in the family.) But alas, like everyone else I, too, came face-to-face with the standards of beauty crafted by white supremacy and even though automatically disqualified, members of my community crafted a parallel guide, one currently crowned Queen Bey.
What does this mean for me now? It manifests in borderline disordered eating. Rejecting 400 years of white supremacy is a tall order. I've always been good at showing up in the streets. Activism is my calling. I've built my entire life around it. Turning that work internally, though, may be one of the most difficult things I've ever tried to do.