…continued
As I worked on this letter today, I was placed into a superfat-specific breakout room three times in two hours during a HAES-related organization's workshop. By myself.
At no point did anyone ask if I was okay sitting by myself repeatedly for significant amounts of time, or offer to let me join the other breakout rooms, which were dedicated to marginalized identities I don't have.
Would it have been considered acceptable for someone else to sit alone in one of the breakout rooms for other identities? Should the organization have figured out how hurtful it might be to be forced to sit alone again and again and sent even one other person into the room with me?
To be honest with you, friend, I have no idea.
Meanwhile, HAES providers and organizations continue to use the same five free Allgo and Shutterstock fat-people stock images over and over and over rather than spend $5 to support a fat-owned small business and help bring more images into the world.
What a turnoff.
As an autistic person, I can't deny that I often make people uncomfortable or put them off in ways that are often a surprise to me. People, especially neurotypical people, react differently to me doing or saying something the same way a neurotypical person would. (This seems to be a common experience among autistic folks.)
That's not always a bad thing, though. It means that when people do get me, they really connect, so the clients I do have are often wonderful.
But when it comes to open support, and particularly when it comes to spending money, it's hard to choose the saggy-skinned, long-trunked Cassandra in the room. People naturally turn to the comfort of shared power and privilege.
"Diet culture and imposter syndrome both affect women's beliefs about themselves and their bodies. The difference for folks in larger bodies is weight stigma, and the anti-fat narratives that exist within society."
It's surprising how similar the effects of autism and the effects of weight stigma are on a small business. Both lead to different results when taking the same actions a neurotypical, or thin, person might.
Body Liberation Photos grossed $29,344.98 in 2023, of which I took home around $18,000. That sounds like a lot, until you consider that this is my more-than-full-time job, one I've been doing since 2015.
That's $8.60 an hour (assuming I worked only the "standard" 2,080 hours in a work year), just over half the minimum wage in my area.
The pull is strong to blame myself for not working harder, or smarter, or being Too Much, or just not good enough at business.
Dancing with myself.
I think that we have a tendency to take the warriors of our social justice movements for granted, to stand back and allow them to fight alone, to take the slings and arrows for us and to assume that they'll always be there, fighting that good fight.
It's comforting to have a defender to stand in front of you. This I know.
But medieval knights had squires and the backing of great, rich houses and families. Paladins in fantasy novels have the backing of a church and, sometimes, direct support of a deity.
And Dungeons & Dragons fighters have a whole party of other people around them to support them.
None of us can fight alone, and when we expect our activists to, we burn them out -- and discourage others from lifting their voices because they know they'll do it alone.
When we take our activists for granted, it also leads us to take their paid work less seriously. One of the more frustrating comments I receive from people in community is, referring to Body Liberation Stock, "What a great project!"
We don't say that about businesses! We don't say that about Nike, or the grocery store! We only call projects things that we assume, or think, are (or should be) informal…and free.
A note on privilege.
Whenever income comes up as a topic, I make it a point to mention that I have the privilege of a second income and a stable cis, straight marriage. My husband is our primary income earner, and it's a good thing, because my income barely covers a few of our bills and certainly wouldn't cover our mortgage.
(My home is also my photography studio, so I'm not paying for a second space, which I couldn't afford anyway.)
I'm always talking about what it's like -- and that it's possible -- to run a business with an activism component. But how long does one sacrifice a living wage for the community before the work becomes bitter and unsustainable?
I'm not quitting, and I don't need to be told that I'm great or anything. I'll keep shouting into the void because that's who I am, because my identities currently limit my ability to go back to the corporate world, and because my ethics prevent me from going the common, effective, much more profitable
FLEB route.
But as a community, we have to learn to care for our activists and warriors more carefully. (I, too, always have more to learn about caring for others.)
Even the Controversial(â„¢) ones.
