acceptance

I am fat. When I say this, I'm describing one particular aspect of myself. I am not criticizing or judging, nor am I inviting other people to do so or asking for assurances that I'm pretty. In my mind fat is a descriptor like any other. It is not a judgment.

I have a very active life. I skied almost every other day this winter, and had an eight hour ski patrol shift every Saturday. I walk everywhere it is practical to do so and some places it is not. My kayaking season started today and will last until it is too cold to do anything but look forward to skiing. My fat body can do all of these things as part of my routine.

It was my mom's second wedding a few weeks ago. I came home to see it, and although I didn't have a formal part, I was still present for all the nitty-gritty prep. Including the chit-chat among the women as they got ready for the wedding. My new stepsister is younger than me, and she's still really insecure about her appearance and how she views herself and fuctions in the world. A lot of it stems from her appearance--she doesn't see herself as pretty, even though I think she is. My mom and my aunt were talking about it, and my aunt said something that I am still having trouble fathoming/processing.

I just got back on Friday from the NCCJ Anytown Youth Leadership Institute. It was an amazing experience, and I’ve been trying to formulate my thoughts and feelings into words in an effort to share this with you.

I am a very politically active person, and very against any injustice. And I say this because Anytown does not deal mainly with feminism. It was not in the week’s curriculum. But the Anytown Institute dealt with discrimination, stereotypes, and prejudice: all things that we as feminists come head on with in our daily lives.

When I got to the designated “pick up spot” for the delegates attending this year, you could see the segregation. People from the same schools stood together, and those were also segregated by ethnicity. Everyone was wary of everyone else. Some people did not want to be there, some were forced, some wholeheartedly willing, some even tried to fake being sick to get out of going. No one wanted to talk. One person was going around to other people, introducing themselves, and dragging the new people around to meet the other new arrivals. So some of us were acquainted when we got on the bus. But barely. The people coming from the same schools new each other, of course, but the rest of us barely talked. The delegates from the same area talked amongst themselves, and we talked hesitantly to them as well. But it was a little uneasy, the beginning of the hour-long bus ride to the middle of nowhere. (Keep in mind I live in the cultural armpit of the universe)