“I’m not everyone’s cup of tea
but I’m (some people’s) double vodka.”
– Marilyn Monroe
Chapter 1
Cover Girl is Our Cup of Tea
A Cool Cover Girl is Fat
So-called “Blonde Bombshell,” actress Marilyn Monroe, said: “I’m not everyone’s cup of tea, but I’m (some people’s) double vodka.” Am I, and the On Fat And Faith work, your cup of tea? Or even your double vodka? If you are my people, WELCOME! I’ve been looking for you for so long.
To help you decide, if you don’t already know, look at the woman on the cover of this book. In modeling, women are often called girls. The “girl” on any cover, or cover girl, is in the most coveted position. She is supposed to be the best of the best. Our cover “girl” (grown a—ed woman, really) is the non-conventional beauty, best of the best. That makes her even better in my book. My people are non-conventional, no matter what they look like.
The woman on the cover of this book is a gorgeous, higher weight, medium brown-skinned, Black woman. She has somewhat Africanized features and unprocessed, naturally kinky hair. She wears white, form-fitting, stretchable cotton separates. Peeking out between the top and bottom are her wonderful rolls of flesh.
She is also holding a small dumbbell in her hand, in a bicep flexing curl. Hold a dumbbell if you want, but don’t BE a dumbbell, as an old boyfriend of mine used to say about an explicative that is also the name of a vital, beloved body part (HINT: rectum). Have one; don’t BE one.
This is an intersectionally (all at the same time co-existing and exacerbating) Fat, Black, fem positive book. Recognize your biases and seek to divest yourself of them. Open your mind and your heart first, if you want to open this book.
I’m the cup of tea for those who already recognize that weight loss dieting and exercise don’t work significantly, sustainably or at all. On Fat And Faith is a double vodka to those who know intentional weight loss efforts make you crazy and make most people fatter in the long run. Not that that’s a bad thing, but Ahm jes’ sayin.’
I’m the cup of tea for those who recognize that #BlackLives-Matter. I’m the double vodka for those who recognize that Black women and girls face sexism and racism/colorism in Black and mainstream/white communities. On Fat And Faith is the cup of tea for folks who recognize that the systematic, institutional inequity for those with identifiable, traditionally devalued identities/demographics, is damaging. It’s wrong and that includes the oppression of white LGBTQA+ folks and all People of Color of all genders/orientations, even though I center Fat Black fems in this book. If you know these injustices need to stop and you want to be part of that shift, I’m your double vodka.
On Fat and Faith is exactly your cup of tea if you know, regardless of your religion, or lack thereof, that we individually and collectively must help make these injustices stop using our bodies, minds and spirits. I’m your double vodka if you are tired of living in a Dominator society and are seeking a better way, a Partnership Path.
If you are not down for that, continue at your own risk, ‘cause I ain’t your cup of tea, or any other type of beverage you’d eagerly savor and swallow. Might make you spit up. Might burn on the tongue and worse on the way down. I’m the cup of tea minister, self-help seer or priestess to those who are already convinced and want to know how to make it so. If this doesn’t sound like you, there are plenty of other books for you to read and folks for you to argue and debate with. Go take that mess elsewhere. This is not the drone you are looking for.
By the way, our cover girl is NOT exercising for any kind of weight loss. This is a Fat positive book for you, regardless of your weight. I use the term Fat the way Fat Liberationists use it, capitalized and as a positive affirmation. I use it the way I use the word Black when referring to people.
A Perfect Cover Girl is P.H.A.T.
When I’m leading a workshop or ceremony, many people are surprised when I tell them all the inaccurate, negative associations most humans unconsciously make with the word “Black.” Think of the scene in Spike Lee’s movie, Malcolm X, when Brother Malcolm reads the full dictionary definition of the word Black. He realizes society’s deep stigmatization of the word and our people. It changes his life forever.
My doctorate is in multimedia communication. As a university full professor, before I became an independent scholar, consultant and artist, I specialized in how the media influence society. So be prepared for pop culture references too. As I teach, my students’ eyes often light up when I give them a pop culture example or analogy.
They get it. And you will too; or go to OnFatAndFaith.com for the bonus material that defines many of those references for you.
In my grandparents’ day, calling a person of African ancestry “Black” was using fightin’ words. Better take off your earrings, roll up those sleeves and get ready to throw down or run…fast. Sometimes the word Black is still an insult. It depends on the tone, timing, purpose AND identity, of the mouth it comes out of and what words follow it.
The same is true of the word Fat. Yet, a Fat, white person still has race privilege and does not experience the double whammy of race and size discrimination. Race discrimination against those of African descent also entails other dimensions, upon which we will only touch the tip of in On Fat And Faith.
Still, it is time to undo the bitter aftertaste the word Fat leaves in our mouths. It is time to turn the taste of the word “Fat” into the succulent juices of your favorite food. As a recent keynote speaker, I told my audience of predominantly Southern, African American girls that if they had been brutalized by family, classmates and/or others with the word “Fat,” to instead consider it the pronunciation of the culturally relevant word “P-h-a-t.”
Phat (really P.H.A.T.) stands for pretty hot and tempting. During my adulthood, the term has been popularized more in the Black community. For example, it is part of the title of comedian Monique’s movie, Phat Girlz, a film which unfortunately is still rife with weight stigma. In fact, as a youngster, the first time I cursed at an adult, the word Phat was to blame.
My mother forced me into college even earlier than I would have otherwise gone, having skipped a couple of grades already. My father, owner of a correspondence doctorate from a school of dubious repute, didn’t think girls should be educated beyond high school because, “(We) would just waste it as a mother.” And he certainly didn’t want to pay for it.
My mother tricked me into going to the historically Black (HBCU) Morgan State University, rather than the traditionally white (TWI) Ivy League schools others on my high school honor roll typically went to. Perhaps Mommy was using me, as usual, but this time to fulfill a destiny she was lying about having already obtained herself – that of a college graduate.
My early college admission bid caused me huge harassment from resentful classmates at one of the five highly competitive, non-districted, New York City public high schools. Only two white boys before me had ever successfully gone to college straight out of their junior year of high school. I would be the first girl and the first Black student to do so. (I did and I was.) Girls made up about .04 percent of the student body at that time.
Though I was typically the highest ranking girl on the honor roll, usually in the top-five overall, graduating early was just too much for many of my competitors to take. Even high school administrators were angry at me for foregoing possible scholarships to “academically” higher ranking white universities if I completed my senior year. However, those administrators and classmates had no idea about the grand dysfunction taking place in my home.
They had no idea that there would be absolutely no support for me to even take advantage of any possible, future scholarship. My mother forced me to keep secret the hell that was going on at home. She threatened me that such a disclosure may get my father, who worked in the New York City public schoolsBureau of Attendance, fired. It would be my fault if we were made penniless and homeless, she warned. (No one was saying “unsheltered” back then.)
My brave, best friend Sonia told me how to access the one therapist available at school before his position was axed in one of the constant waves of budget cuts. Even though I saw him briefly, and he only knew half the story, he offered to put me into foster care. But I didn’t like what I had seen of the New York City foster care system. At least my family was the devil I knew, and I thought I might be able to survive, get educated and have a better chance of getting away from them and of getting to and through adulthood.
When the counselor said if I wouldn’t leave the home, I needed a parent’s permission to continue therapy, I had to ask...