Body Week is Them's annual look at what it means to live in a queer body today. Read more from the series here.
One sweltering summer day in New York, I hopped off the Q35 and set off toward our beloved sliver of Riis Beach, where the model and activist Jordan Underwood was hosting a beach day for fat queer baddies. Along the way, I found myself euphemistically asking various fat people if they “knew Jordan.” It was such an odd feeling — dragging my ass out of the house during this unprecedented heat to celebrate Pride with fat gay people only to sheepishly tiptoe around using the word “fat.” Unfortunately, society has not yet reached a place where the word can be a neutral adjective. And I guess that’s the very reason I endured an hour-long bus ride with someone’s armpit in my face and my skin suctioned to a plastic MTA bus seat: I wanted to spend an afternoon somewhere “fat” wasn’t just neutral, but normal.
When I finally found the party, Jordan and their partner Jessica greeted me with hugs and radiant smiles. Soon, more familiar faces arrived, each making the same expression of yeah, I’m in the right place as they saw the concentration of fat bodies in one area. “A lot of fat spaces are not super queer-focused, not very racially diverse, or not trans-friendly, and so I wanted to make a space during Pride where we could do that,” Jordan told me of their inspiration for the event. “I wanted to make a time where my community could come together.”
They did. In fact, as the day progressed, something beautiful and unexpected took place: Like a magnet, other groups of fat friends found their way to our corner. Some had no clue about the event, but immediately upon seeing us, they felt that they belonged. For Emma Zack, founder of the size-inclusive vintage shop Berriez, the day felt like a kind of coronation of a prouder self. “I’m 32, and I have never liked how I looked in a bikini. And today I am like, Wow, I wish my bathing suit was smaller,” said Zack, also a cohost of the event. “I want to show myself more.”
The sun might’ve been beating down on us, but a strong breeze had begun to blow — a reward for putting in the effort to be here. At one point, I heard someone shout in the distance, “I love my skinny friends but I can’t share clothes with them,” which made the group erupt with laughter. And so as the new Kehlani record played from Jordan’s speaker, I chatted with fat queer friends old and new about the beach, queer spaces, and overcoming shame.
What made you decide to organize this event?
I love the beach. Over the course of my life, it’s been a really beautiful place of community-building with chosen family and just being in a space where the only thing you need to do is vibe. I wanted to make an event where my community could come together, especially in a time where I feel like people are very isolated. A lot of community spaces cost a lot of money, and are not accessible, and are not necessarily friendly to people of various identities. A lot of fat spaces are not super queer-focused, not very racially diverse, or not trans-friendly, and so I wanted to make a space during Pride where we could do that.
Can you talk about the first time that you remember feeling pride over shame?
I think it was actually the first time that I came to Riis. I was with my best friends at the time, and I was around a lot of people that I didn’t know. I didn’t feel stared at. I didn’t feel ostracized by language, vibes, or side eyes. It’s a space where people are free to just be themselves with no expectations or judgments. Being in the community here allowed me to shed whatever was left of that, because community heals, guys. It heals so much.
What do you feel is unique about having a fat queer community?
Honestly, when you’re in community with other fat people, you realize that no one looks the same at all and we can’t really be put in a monolith, but it’s really nice when you see other people with similar body types as you. It makes you feel like there’s someone there who will listen to you if something does happen. And also to share happy moments with you without [it being surface-level], really “look inside” type shit.
When was the first time you chose Pride over shame?
The first [time] that comes to mind is [when] I got invited to a Fat Fashion show. The way I was hooting and hollering, it was one of the first times that I remember really celebrating a fat body. Also, I’m polyamorous, so I’m also involved in ethical non-monogamy and group sex spaces. My first group play party was also really formative for me in terms of [feeling] comfortable in my body, and my sexuality, and my self-expression. That was really powerful.
What does this fat queer beach day mean to you?
I’ve been fat since as long as I can remember. When it came to specifically recognizing that I was queer, I was like, Oh no, you have two bulls against you. You are fat and you’re openly queer and you’re in school — the worst place to be in, where everyone’s learning about themselves [and] judging themselves for being who they are. Today means looking around and being like, No, you were fine all along.
I remember walking in the hallways and being like, Okay, suck in your waist and don’t look at that girl, or whatever. That’s ridiculous. You were supposed to be who you were this entire time and I feel like this day is just commemorative of that, because I know I’m not the only person that went through something like that. Now, we’re already through the bad part. It’s like [this] deep relief, the deep sigh. That’s what today feels like. It’s amazing.
Have you ever felt unwelcome in a queer space?
Last year, around Pride Month, there was a Black queer party. I went to [buy] a ticket, and it was like $50 or $60. I understand it’s Pride Season and everyone’s trying to get it as exclusive as possible so people could be excited to go. But in that moment, I was so deeply uncomfortable because I was with my friend who didn’t have the money to go. And it was already up to $70 at the door, [so we decided to split up.]
I met a couple of people that night. They were all skinny. When we went in, I could tell I was being treated a little differently. I wished I was with my friend. They had a good time at another bar, and I was having a solid time listening to music, but I didn’t feel that it was representative of my community. It made me look forward to Pride in a different way. It made me want to just be around my people. That [night] radicalized me down.
What does this fat queer beach day mean to you?
I truly think it means getting to be your most authentic self around your best friends in the whole world while getting vitamin D after long winters. This is the summer solstice, so it was a perfect time to come out. I think summer’s transformative. A lot of us [are] meeting each other for the first time and a lot of us have trouble meeting each other because it’s hard to be at the same place at the same time, so it’s super cool.
When was the first time you chose Pride over shame?
I think when I came to the conclusion that I was nonbinary and I was tired of boxing myself into this feminine space. This year, I’m really finding myself. I was just tired of feeling bad about it and I’m just ready to live and not feel like I am wrong for how I’m made. It’s not a choice.
When it comes to neutralizing the prevalence of fatphobia in our community, where do you want us to be in five years time? What will it be like when we’ve really moved past our collective obsession with thinness?
The biggest things that I see on the daily is accessibility. I’m a bartender and I want to make sure there is always a seat that can be comfortable for any level of fat person. So in five years, I want to see bigger seats everywhere, including buses, trains, and planes. I want to see more fat people in outfits that draw your attention out in public. I want to see more fat doctors as options. And I want to not hear people saying shameful things against one another, because lots of body phobias will go away before fatphobia goes away.
What’s been your relationship historically to the beach, and how did Jordan’s recent event affect that?
My relationship with Riis beach is freedom. Going to Riis and having the norm of being topless and letting almost all your skin show has really helped me see my body among others and realize we are all different and hot. Fat queer beach day was extra nice cause I got to see a group of fat hot people experiencing their bodies in joy and freedom together.
What do you feel is the role of plus-size fashion when it comes to fat acceptance and fat activism?
I mean, if straight-size fashion isn’t doing it, someone’s gotta do it. We have the responsibility to show all different sizes that can wear all these clothes. Everyone’s beautiful and everybody deserves to be seen.
When was the first time you chose Pride over shame?
Honestly, I’m feeling it today. I’m 32 and I have never liked how I looked in a bikini. And today I am like, Wow, I wish my bathing suit was smaller. I want to show myself more. Someone’s been taking pictures and I am not shying away from the camera. I’m like, Yeah, I’m here.
These responses have been edited and condensed for clarity.
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