Self identified fat woman who makes a living out of complaining about her treatment, complains about her treatment! On one of the top women’s websites in Australia, no less! As part of her book tour!
It’s almost as if Mamamia’s Mia Freedman deliberately inserted a needle into the festering boil that is women’s fatness for publicity!
Perhaps Roxane Gay is a savvy media manipulator too. After all, she made a name for herself by claiming to be a Bad Feminist, thereby staking out the territory of a Good One, as if that’s something we can all agree on. And yet even that confected ‘controversy’ ran out of steam eventually. Thankfully she had narcissistic body-shaming to fall back on.
Consider her move to refuse to be photographed for her interview, prompting Mamamia’s article’s title;
“Why, for the first time, I have no photo from my interview with Roxane Gay”
Who could have seen that coming?
In other words; ‘Women of Australia! Google images of Roxane Gay immediately! Pay a lot of attention to her body! She’s really fat! This is her point of difference between all those other feminists you’ve grown tired of!’
Apparently Gay actively cultured her fatness with the goal of making herself sexually ‘untouchable’. This assumes that not having ongoing sex with a man is the cornerstone of self-negation. How can I be human without the sexual gaze of a man to validate me?
This is a master class in PR, and mamamia knows it.
Women’s fatness is underpinned by two key tenets;
- The idea that fatness is a choice
- women’s bodies are public property.
The choice element suggests morality, combined with the public property element this means everyone gets a say! You could not design a more clickbait-y topic. In fact, fatness is such a public issue that everyone’s now chucking their two cents in. This ‘shitstorm’ has kicked off predictable opinion pieces from women moaning about the seamless integration between their bodies and their feelings.
Many rail against the ‘false’ kindnesses that have come their way;
Oh, people tell me I’m beautiful to them! I know they’re well meaning, but it’s so exhausting.
‘Exhausting’, in case you weren’t aware, is the new term for ‘I’ve decided to interpret all the kind things you say to me through a lens of my own self-hatred. I’m so offended. Perpetually offended. Poor me. I SAID, POOR ME. Is this thing even on?’
I’m fucking exhausted.
Look, I couldn’t give a rat’s clasper about mamamia. I don’t read it because it’s schlocky bullshitty clickbait, designed for the echo chamber that is boring, neurotic upper middle class white ladies who spend their days imagining they’re ‘balancing’ their careers when instead they’re at the park trying not to spill smoothie on their Country Road pashmina.
What fucks me off is the idea that this is is being touted as feminism. Does feminism mean paying enormous attention to the relatively minute differences in our appearances? Or competing in the I’m-more-offended-than-you Olympics?
This is the most effective kind of alienation. If you’re constantly telling everyone they can’t engage with you because they might do it wrong, they won’t engage with you at all.
The key point here is that if we’re all endlessly fascinated with our bodies we won’t be paying much attention to anything else.
But I would say that wouldn’t I? No-one ever says anything mean or hurtful about me. No-one has ever told me how to live my life, what choices I should make. No-one’s ever judged me on my appearance, or the choices I make with my body. Nope, plain fucking sailing here.