In 2014, I made a New Year’s resolution to wear a bikini at the beach. My mission wasn’t to lose weight, then don the bikini, as many people I told about my project assumed. No, I was going to wear the bikini without changing a thing about myself, because for my entire fat adulthood, I’d been told not to. I was supposed to not show my fat body, to fight "the bulge," to do whatever necessary to change my shape.
So, I wore my two-piece, rejecting the notion that the body I live in is something to be ashamed of. A friend took pictures. I wrote an essay about how fed up I was with the idea that bikinis are sacred items reserved for people who look a certain way, because I wanted to make a statement. And, of course, people called me brave.
It suggests that living in our bodies is an extraordinary feat, and we’re somehow heroes for...what? But it remains a common refrain, especially when it comes to people who are often in the spotlight.
Take model Ashley Graham, who has made incredible strides for body diversity and representation. When she appeared as the first plus-size model to grace the covers of not just American but also British Vogue, she opened doors in the fashion industry that had previously been closed to anyone but the most svelte. Her historic Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Edition cover also started multiple conversations about our cultural perception of beauty.
Graham recently referenced being referred to as "brave" in a cheeky Instagram post—literally. In the photo, Graham wears a striking red thong one-piece, her unretouched backside turned toward the camera. The caption was deliciously short and to the point: “When they call you ‘brave.’"
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As a woman who has blazed a trail for body positivity, Graham does face cruel comments from strangers for displaying what society perceives as an “unconventional” body. But I completely understand why she would object to being called brave for showing her body, or at the very least feel it warrants a call-out.
I can’t speak for Graham, as a model, it's obviously often her job to wear to a bathing suit, and it seems like it would get annoying to be praised for wearing the clothing your job requires. It’s probably unbearable to feel as though you have to not only perform the duties of your job but also the responsibilities of a social activist, even when you’re not trying to make a statement.
Imagine if every time you got dressed to go to work, people saw it as some kind of sociopolitical stance, or an obstacle you’ve overcome. Have you ever seen someone earnestly take a Target cashier’s hands in their own and tearfully tell them, “You’re so brave for wearing that red polo shirt?” Of course not.
Calling a woman brave for wearing the appropriate attire for an activity like lounging on the beach makes no sense. I have never in my life looked at a woman at the bowling alley and thought, “How noble, how courageous is she who bears the curse of rented shoes with pride!” When I see women cyclists with bike helmets on, I don’t think to myself, “How brave of her to risk messing up her hair, just to protect her skull!”
Despite allegations to the contrary, body diversity and positivity efforts aren’t focused on forcing people to find fat women beautiful. All we want to do is live exactly as everyone else does. We want our doctors to listen to us. We want the same chance at a job that a non–fat person would have. We want to see ourselves portrayed in the media as people, not punchlines. And we don’t want to be used as “thinspiration” to motivate people to work out. It’s not brave of us to ask for these things; it’s frustrating that we even have to.
A woman might feel brave for taking a bold step outside of her comfort zone, and she’s entitled to feel that way about herself. It is revolutionary, radical, and yes, courageous to challenge the status quo. But wearing certain types of clothing while fat shouldn’t be considered a radical act by society at large. We are not more or less worthy of our humanity based on how much we put on display, and any courage on our part would not be required if it weren’t for the unkindness of others.
Beyond making it seem as though accepting our fat bodies is such an outlandish prospect, our running societal commentary on the bravery of plus-size women who wear what they want erases the experiences of those who don’t feel like putting on a two-piece and running down to the community pool.
Those women still have to live in their bodies, and they still have to endure the cruelty and discrimination plus-size and fat women face. While we laud the bravery of women who are willing to bare their bodies for empowerment, those who don’t are often ignored or discriminated against; it’s easy to deny the cruelty and prejudice against us if everyone is praising the virtue of a few “brave” women.
Recently, my family and I vacationed at one of those indoor waterpark resorts. I wore a two-piece. All around me were women with swimsuits on their nonmodel bodies. It was normal day. No one told any of us we were brave. And that's exactly how it should be.
Jenny Trout is an author, blogger, and funny person. Writing as Jennifer Armintrout, she made the USA Today bestseller list with Blood Ties Book One: The Turning. Her novel American Vampire was named one of the top 10 horror novels of 2011 by Booklist Magazine Online. Jenny writes award-winning erotic romance, including the internationally bestselling The Boss series (written as Abigail Barnette), as well as young adult and new adult novels. Her work has appeared on The Huffington Post, and has been featured on television and radio, including HuffPost Live, Good Morning America, and National Public Radio’s Here & Now. You can follow her on Twitter @Jenny_Trout.
Related:
- 23 Women Reminding You to Go Ahead and Wear That Swimsuit
- 7 Models Who've Learned to Embrace Their Natural Size
- Don't Stop Calling Me 'Plus-Size'
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