3.10 Fat Accessibility

I aim to offer a perspective on fat accessibility, questioning predominant narratives of fatness and revealing how systemic and institutionalized anti-fat bias permeate our daily lives. Part of my experience draws from Philly FatCon, a convention for fat liberation in Philly, where I had the pleasure of volunteering in October. This convention was a space for fat community building and taking steps toward addressing anti-fat bias.

My experiences also are not representative of all fat people: these photos are based online and in Philadelphia, where I attend a wealthy institution that gives me access to certain privileges I wouldn’t necessarily have otherwise. I am also on the smaller side of the fat spectrum, which grants me less stigma and greater accessibility than those larger than me

---Laura-Joelle

Physical Spaces

Photo of trolly doors by Laura-Joelle Geschwindt

When first thinking about fat accessibility, some of the physical spaces I encounter or interact with regularly come to mind, such as public transportation–the trolleys being classic Philly emblems. Those familiar with the trolleys know that the doors are narrow and require steep steps to enter or exit. While this restricted space is noticeable for trolley goers, all of us have our different ways of navigating and thinking about space. For fat people, our bodies in space may be more towards the front of our minds.

In the way many physical spaces are structured, fat accessibility becomes an issue. Similar to the trolleys, many public–and private–restrooms are cramped, making it difficult to open and close stall doors or reach to get toilet paper. This is one of the bathrooms in an academic building that was interestingly turned into a single use bathroom yet still has the narrow walls of the stall that limit movement. Again, I’ve been told that others have similar encounters, especially with the bathroom stalls in the US, but larger bodies make this navigation ever so frustrating and limited.

Photo of Penn Museum bathroom by Laura-Joelle Geschwindt

As a student, I’m also acutely aware of seating arrangements in classes. In many lecture halls, the seating is small and uncomfortable, such as this seating in my twice per week lecture in which the desk cuts into my stomach. In registering for classes, lecture seating is something I have to keep in mind that smaller students might not give a second thought to.

While my experiences in these spaces are ones of privilege, they still highlight how spaces are structured without accessibility needs or issues in mind. I and other fat people shouldn’t have to worry about or pay for navigating public accommodations and physical spaces, such as paying extra for two plane seats, checking restaurant seating beforehand, checking weight limits for bed frames and mattresses especially if our partners are also fat, etc. While fat people do face more restrictions on access, resolving these issues is beneficial to everyone. These issues also intersect substantially with disability rights. The very same lecture hall, trolley, and bathroom stall that are not fat friendly are similarly inaccessible for people who have mobility or other disability aids. Also, there is an overlap of disability and fatness as many fat individuals are disabled, compounding accessibility restrictions.

However, physical accessibility is just one facet of fat access and implicit (or explicit) discrimination. For systemic issues surrounding fatness, similar to disability rights, too often discussion stops at making physical spaces accessible. While I recognize the importance of accessibility in physical spaces and that baseline needs and rights are not being met, it is also important to think about further sectors of life than the physical and the systems that create and uphold forms of fat restriction and control.

A helpful starting point to digging deeper at anti-fatness would be the role of medical institutions. When we go to the doctor, one of the very first things that happens is our weight is taken, and our resulting BMI is put into our medical chart. This is something so commonplace and largely unquestioned, yet it depicts medical reliance on weight and BMI as a health metric. The BMI system equates certain fatness with a certain level of health, only leading to poorer healthcare and medical access for fat people. In my pictured medical form, the very first item on my “problem list” is my BMI, positioning fatness as a “problem” that needs to be fixed. In this case, I had gone to the doctor for jaw issues–unrelated to my weight–and though I was not completely dismissed, it was made clear that I needed to lose weight. Now, years later and at a higher weight, I am cognisant that there is more to health than weight, but when I was younger at this time, I didn’t know otherwise.

The BMI system creates alarming medical practices dismissive of fat people’s concerns, such as doctors pushing for weight loss instead of listening to real concerns of fat patients. To make matters worse, these experiences at the doctor’s can then make fat people less likely to go to a doctor when in need of care. I feel this reluctance to see doctors and so extensively note my symptoms and research possibilities before making an appointment, which I and others shouldn’t have to do; even with these methods, we can still be dismissed because of weight.

Importantly, the BMI is not an accurate assessment of health nor was it intended to be a health metric to begin with. The BMI was originally based on a small sample of white, mostly affluent, male Belgians for a statistical experiment in the mid-1800s to determine men’s average size. This study was later co-opted into medicine by eugenicists interested in furthering white beauty aesthetics and standardizing views of fatness as unethical. The BMI became commonplace by the 1980s, and in the 1990s, the BMI cutoffs for ‘overweight’ and ‘obese’ were also lowered, which increased the number of people considered to be medically overweight and obese and thus unhealthy.

Medical use of the BMI and accompanying paternalism and anti-fat bias in this way shape views of what it means to be healthy, ingraining the idea that fat is a problem and unhealthy, as we can see by medical language like the ‘obesity epidemic.’ Stigmatization of fatness then is inseparable from white supremacy, misogyny, and ableism, and controls and restricts fat bodies through shame, compounding structural vulnerabilities with intersections of race, gender, ability, and income.

Gymtimidation

Photo of PhillyFatCon by Laura-Joelle Geschwindt

One of the tropes or stereotypes about fat people I often encounter is that idea that fat people don’t or don’t want to exercise or go to the gym, which is predicated on the BMI and the ‘fat is unhealthy’ misconception. This is, of course, untrue as a blanket statement and further stigmatizes fat bodies. At Philly FatCon, I was introduced to the idea of “gymtimidation” by keynote speaker Roz “The Diva” Mays, an athlete, instructor, and advocate for fat inclusivity in fitness and athletics. Gymtimidation succinctly describes intimidation as a barrier to fitness for fat people due to this trope and widespread discrimination in fitness culture. Like the medical industry assigning unhealthiness to fat, the fitness industry assigns un-fitness to fat. In her presentation, Mays described not being taken seriously due to being fat, giving an example of dismissiveness at her performance America’s Got Talent by the judges, a similar dismissiveness fat people experience in medical settings.

An interesting interaction occurred during the Q&A portion of Mays’ presentation when an audience member expressed concerns about outsiders judging them for not being able to exercise due to fat, explaining it was their disability that limited exercise, not their fat. To me, this showed how negative views of fatness are internalized, coming back to notions of shame, in this case relating to gymtimidation. In other words, if it were fatness that made exercising difficult, then that in itself shouldn’t be a cause for shame or judgment, yet it is. The fact that this audience member in a way wanted to prove not to be that stereotype emphasizes the very real stigma against fatness that too often goes unquestioned.

Additionally, another audience member asked about improving health habits while fat, and Mays responded with the idea that we need to reconstruct what ‘healthy’ means. It doesn’t mean looking or weighing a certain way, which is what predominant messages about health and fat promote with the BMI. Rather, diversifying movements, having fun, and accepting failure are important with health and fitness but are not often the messaging we see.

Negative messaging arises with diet and fitness products that are focused on weight loss rather than health more holistically. One such example is the Infinity Hoop, a viral fitness product as shown in this TikTok ad. At first glance, the product seems harmless enough: it’s a low-impact and easy way to exercise and also includes fat bodies in a neutral to positive light in its advertising, which many products aimed for fat people don’t portray. While many products like this seem normal on the surface, we need to understand the inherent messaging of fat stigma they can have. The hoop consists of detachable ‘links’ that you’re supposed to take off as you lose weight. That is the hoop’s purpose: “losing links,” as their advertising says, a direct correspondence to decreasing your waist size, focusing on waist and weight loss. Their other products unfortunately include “fat burning” and “slimming” supplements. Products like these exemplify how fat stigma is intertwined with profitization, upholding our version of a capitalist economy. If it weren’t for the BMI and fat stigmatization, I doubt the fitness and weight loss industries would be worth over 100 billion USD.

Clothing Accessibility

In addition to gymtimidation, fat people are familiar with the frustration of shopping for clothing in our sizes and styles. Standard stores don’t usually offer plus sizes, or if they do, have a very limited selection (usually in the back of the store), unfashionable or outdated styles that are meant to be ‘flattering’ (i.e., trying to cover up that you’re fat), or have higher prices for larger sizes (i.e., fat tax for clothing). While there are boutique stores like Torrid and Universal Standard that do carry plus sizes, a fat person shouldn’t have to seek out a special store to find their size.
This also applies to thrift stores. In the image I took at my local thrift store, the plus size section consists of three clothing racks at the back of the store. Compared to straight sizing, which makes up almost half of the store, the plus size section is very limited. Not only is clothing accessibility restricted at the level of retail stores that can get expensive, but it’s also restricted for more affordable options. Major fast fashion retailers that are also cheaper comparatively carry a vast array of plus size options that are in style, yet the clothing isn’t meant to last and can be more expensive in the long run–perhaps another form of fat clothing tax.

Additionally, a gendered aspect surrounding fatness arises when discussing issues of plus size clothing. At the thrift store, the plus size section contained only women’s clothing, while the men’s section included larger sizes. Plus size clothing awareness is primarily focused on women’s clothing, with more visibility given to women’s plus size brands, in examples like Universal Standard and Torrid that I mentioned, and also Lane Bryant, Eloquii, Bloomchic, etc. Whether this is due to less availability of women’s clothing at larger sizes at standard retailers, differences in societal perceptions and norms of fatness and gender, or something else is unclear. Nonetheless, it shows the limited scope in available clothing for fat people as a result of anti-fatness.

Some community-based projects aim to fill the gaps in clothing accessibility, as shown above with the clothing vendor area at Philly FatCon. In Philly, I’ve been to plus size clothing swaps and markets through organizations like Fat Babe Philly and at Philly FatCon. Fat clothing swaps have given me an understanding of how it is to be able to go into a place with an expectation of finding clothing in a size that fits, a contrast to how fat people may feel at regular clothing locales. Other Philly projects like Sew Inclusive address the clothing issue through a different angle: rather than providing clothing, they teach fat community members how to mend clothing, which fat people often have to do. These community-led projects underscore how much of a restriction clothing accessibility truly is, and, though these projects are doing amazing work, they shouldn’t be a necessity come about due to inaccessibility.

Contraceptives & Sexuality

The last area I wanted to touch on surrounds sexuality and emergency contraceptives, another aspect through which fat people have restrictions and are overlooked. At my local pharmacy, I was interested in seeing the available emergency contraceptive pills and found Plan B, a generic pill, and Julie. All three of these pills are less effective for people who weigh more than 165 pounds or whose BMI is over 25, which is alarming as the average weight for women in the US is 170 pounds. Ella, a contraceptive praised for being weight inclusive, is still less effective over 195 pounds. While these pills do have an efficacy above 90% for higher weights, they give another example of how fatness is given different degrees of visibility and prioritization in different spaces and products. While fat bodies are pointed out in medical settings, in other areas like clothing and contraceptives, fat bodies are overlooked. Fat stigmatization then is what allows for these differences in visibility, particularly in how fatness is portrayed and why it is visible or invisible depending on the context.

Additionally, contraceptives play into notions of sexuality and romance. It shouldn’t be a surprise that fat people can be sexually active and engage in romantic relationships just as smaller people can. At Philly FatCon, I attended a panel of people featured in Thick Skin, a documentary about fat stigma. A recurring theme in the panel was that all the panelists were in relationships as fat people, going against the common fallacy that fat people aren’t ‘worthy’ of romance. However, this is not to say that romantic or sexual relationships are an indicator of individual worthiness or value especially for fatness; rather, fatness should not be related to an individual’s ‘worth.’ In this way, contraceptives, that are made overlooking fatness, as well as other fat inaccessibilities create and perpetuate an implication of lesser importance and worth when it comes to fat bodies, in accordance with BMI messages.

Conclusion

Overall, stigma attached to fatness upheld by the BMI and medical institutions works as a driver for all of these disparities and inaccessibilties for fat people. I often see the argument to ‘just lose weight’ in response to these issues, but fatness in itself is not always a simple matter of an individual’s personal habits and is rather a combination of genetics and larger structural systems, among other factors. For example, infrastructures like food apartheids are correlated with fatness and disproportionately affect low income and BIPOC individuals, genetic factors and conditions like PCOS can lead to weight gain, disability can limit movement availability and indirectly cause weight gain, etc. However, if a person is fat solely due to lifestyle choices, they still should not be stigmatized for fatness.
In Philly and other areas, community-based organizations facilitate filling gaps in the wake of fat inaccessibility and persistent stigmatizing narratives attached to fatness. Philly FatCon, Sew Inclusive, Fat Babe Philly, The Curvy Experience, and other fat-focused organizations are then sites for coalition building and fat joy in a wider inaccessible and weight-loss-focused culture and city. As pictured, Philly FatCon provided fans for attendees, an accommodation so small yet impactful, speaking volumes about visibility and prioritization in fat spaces.

Lastly, this photo essay gives only a glimpse into systemic anti-fat biases, and each point from physical structures to medical settings and products to clothing could be expanded upon as the issues surrounding fat stigma are complex. After all, fat liberation involves more than just fat identities and rather intersects issues of gender, disability, queerness, and race, as situated in Philly and the US.

Laura-Joelle Geschwindt

Laura-Joelle Geschwindt (they/them) is a student at Penn studying Biology and Gender, Sexuality, and Women's Studies. At Penn, they founded NeuroQueer, a social and advocacy group for queer and neurodivergent students, and worked as a Program Assistant at the LGBT Center. They aim to go into clinical social work focusing on issues of disability concerning fatness and neurodivergence, queer and trans identities, and sexuality.