Fat Shamed by Kimora Lee Simmons

Each year the school I work in has a night of cultural dancing, food and market stalls. It’s a pretty big event, noisy, colourful and joyful. Students facilitate their own items, teaching each other a traditional dance from their own culture – sometimes with a modern twist, and often learning dances form other cultures. Some items are perfect and full of technical mastery. Some are not. They are all, without exception, filled with joy and the kind of magic, which only happens when you get 350 kids dancing in one place. The show is so popular, we run it three times in a row, so that everyone’s parents, grandparents, and friends might squeeze in. Even so many people miss out. It is exhausting, with a long build up and a lot of energy input. Things get fraught. Not enough sleep is had by anyone. Normal school life continues around it.

Last night, as I stood against one side of the hall, some people entered late. Not unusual, as the lightest smattering of rain can render taxi’s invisible and cause traffic gridlock on our tiny island, and we had just had a heavy downpour. They were talking loudly, which was unusual; because even though people sometimes come late and make a bit of noise finding a seat, it is all done with that kind of hunched over, apologetic shuffling in the dark. Actually only one of them was talking loudly, and she sounded a little like someone who has had one or two drinks and lost the volume control. (EDIT: People seem to have taken this to mean the lady concerned was drunk. And she was not, to my knowledge, intoxicated. She certainly wasn't staggering around shouting. She was just a little loud.) Eventually, the couple sat down nearby and the lady continued to talk really loudly, mimicking the dancers and commenting on them. It was low level, but I was tired and I love these kids and it’s not TV, performers can often hear chatter. Without thinking, I shot one of those laser beam ‘teacher looks’ over, the kind you use in assembly when someone is talking.

Now, the laser beam look is not something you should be shooting at another adult. It’s kind of rude and I should have actually done something more grown up, like politely asking her to be a bit quieter. Or maybe, just ignoring it. But the lady in question said to her partner that ‘That fat bitch is mad at me’.

That. Fat. Bitch. Is Mad At Me. I stared straight ahead, more upset than I have been in a long time. Was this a parent? I teach so many kids, I tried to imagine the horror of meeting her in a professional setting and hearing the words ‘fat bitch’ in my mind whilst talking to her. The man looked my way, and I leaned over and said as loud as I dared ‘It’s a live performance, the kids might hear you’. I actually doubt he could hear me, but I felt I had somewhat explained my grumpiness.

At the end of the show, I went outside and stood chatting to students. The word ‘bitch’ floating around in my head. I didn’t think my teacher look had been so bad, but I was standing next to some middle school girls and they were excited. There was a celebrity in the audience, and they were waiting to get autographs. Kimora Lee Simmons had come to see the daughter of a friend perform. The penny dropped. That’s why she looked familiar. As if summoned, she appeared in front of me.

I stepped towards her and started a sentence which, I will be honest, was about to be one of those terrible non apology things that amounted to “I’m not actually a bitch, I was just worried the kids would get distracted by the talking and sorry if I gave you a rude look’. Not stellar. But I was pretty annoyed about being called a bitch. It’s most definitely not a nice thing to say where I’m from. Or where I live now. Or anywhere, I think.

Before two words came out of my mouth her hand was in my face. ‘Don’t talk to me! You’re rude! You’re a bitch!’, she steps to one side and turns, then rounds on me with a vicious ‘And you’re FAT!’.

The Middle school girls were aghast. I looked at them and said ‘You still want her autograph?’. And I walked away.

You’re FAT.

Kimora Lee Simmons is wealthy, beautiful, and successful. She has had weight gains and losses, and she knows that the worst thing you can say to another woman is ‘you’re fat’. It was worse than being rude, which is about how I behave. Worse than being a bitch, which is about how I am as a person. It was about how I look, which is my greatest failure. Nothing I said was valid to her, because I am fat.

In front of 12 and 13 year old girls, she single handedly confirmed what they all suspect and fear – that no matter what you do or how you behave, the worst thing you can do is get fat.

You’re FAT.

That one sentence stuck in my head. I stood in front of hundreds of parents, students and colleagues. Humiliated, ashamed and yes I will admit it, feeling pretty bloody shit about how I look. I have been working 70 hour weeks. I am fat, so I was wearing some ugly stretchy pants and the only national costume I can fit, a black tee shirt. The uniform of fat middle aged women everywhere.

You’re FAT.

Because she didn’t mean you’re fat. Anyone with eyes can see that about me. She meant I was ugly. Worthless. A failed woman. Fat.

I internalize my feelings. I literally eat them. I worry about my son, who has learning disabilities. I worry about money, because I’m a single parent. I worry about doing well at my job, because it’s demanding and I cannot fail at it. I eat all that. Maybe if I went around being more of a bitch I wouldn’t be so fat. Or not, maybe it is just genetic heritage meets 21st century food wealth. I know I lack self control around food and I suspect it’s because I have always had that voice inside me saying ‘you’re not worth it’.

You’re rude. Yeah, I was rude, I had no business shooting her that teacher look and I own that one.

You’re a bitch. Well OK, you don’t know me and maybe that one interaction justifies a first impression of me as bitchy. I can be mean. I’m human.

You’re FAT. Yes. I’m fat. But I am NOT worthless, or ugly.
And I am not the kind of person who swans into a school, acts like a bigshot, and verbally abuses a tired teacher in front of students.

I’m fat. And you’re a bully.

(I made a couple of edits to this post. Just to clarify: this is not about calling out or getting revenge for me being upset. It is about what words really mean, and how powerful they can be. It is also my own personal way of downloading the bad stuff and expressing my feelings, not a cause celebre.)