A Cultural Lens on Fat-Shaming

By Sadhika on

I’ve been mulling over the topic of ‘fat-shaming’ for quite some time now, and have finally dared to attempt articulating what I think on this matter. Steering clear of an exhaustive exploration of all possible scenarios, I'm zoning in on a specific instance.

Let's set the stage with a bit of cultural background, as such topics can hardly be discussed if divorced from context. Growing up in an Indian family, like most people I know, I've had regular, no-holds-barred interactions with parents, grandparents, aunts, uncles, and cousins. Until I moved out of my parents' house, these encounters happened once or twice a week, if not more. This close-knit environment meant that family members would offer their opinions more candidly, and at times, even bluntly, than relatives might in Western societies.

Weight-related commentary from aunts or cousins, whether acknowledging gains or losses, was customary, especially during reunions after prolonged absences. A friend underwent a similar experience and attempted to school her relatives on the concept of 'fat-shaming,' hoping for a eureka moment about its mental health impact. Alas, many Indian relatives proved less understanding, persisting in what could be labelled as 'fat-shaming.' The fallout? My friend distanced herself from those relatives, citing the hostility.

Let me be clear from the outset – I do buy into the idea that 'fat-shaming' or unsolicited comments on appearance can mess with young minds. Social media showcases this, and teenage girls often face 'mean-girl' bullying in schools. I've been there, surviving an all-girls school where snarky comments were an art form.

However, I'm not sold on the notion that family members playfully commenting on a kid's weight aim to sow seeds of insecurity. In fact, I'll go out on a limb and argue that we should take such comments in stride, especially when they stem from a place of genuine concern.

Acknowledging the potential harm of 'fat-shaming' doesn't negate the importance of recognizing cultural nuances within close-knit families. The dynamics in Indian families, characterised by frequent and candid exchanges, can sometimes lead to seemingly insensitive comments about weight. While these remarks might be perceived as 'fat-shaming' in a broader context, they are often rooted in a different cultural understanding, where discussions about physical appearance may be seen as expressions of concern or affection. 

It does not help to learn some of the psychobabble words from the "woke" lexicon, such as 'body positivity' and 'fatphobia,' and apply them indiscriminately to individuals who genuinely mean well. This is particularly true when these individuals come from cultures that prioritise collective well-being over individual expression. Here, familial relationships hold significant value, and expressions of concern about one's well-being, including comments about weight, are often rooted in genuine care rather than malice. 

While I refrain from making comments about others' weight, I anticipate that as I age, I may resemble my relatives more in their approach – a blend of light mockery and genuine concern – than the individuals who cannot tolerate the slightest bit of criticism even if it comes in the form of a joke from a well wisher.

In my family, there's a prevalent belief that good-natured teasing or light mockery directed at the younger members serves as a means of providing them with moments of levity and encouraging them to not take themselves too seriously. Additionally, this form of communication often carries genuine concerns for the person's health, wrapped in a jesting manner. The underlying idea is that such interactions help individuals acclimate to the challenges of the real world, where they may encounter more malicious comments and derogatory remarks aimed at undermining their confidence. 

A little bit of self-deprecating humour now and then, and we become better equipped to face the so-called 'hate speech' or 'triggering comments' that can rattle individuals at the slightest provocation.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

The Last Keeper

By Sadhika on
Image
Of late, there has been a feeling settling in my chest like dust in an empty room—soft, silent, and certain. It is the quiet realization that my memories are not permanent things. Not chiseled into stone or sealed up in iron-bound books, but written in pencil, the graphite growing faint with each passing season. I am aware, now more than ever, that what I remember will not be remembered for long. I think of my parents often. I remember my mother in her early sarees —floral, soft, like the curtains of a spring house. As the years passed, her colours dulled. Maybe they matched her age better, or maybe they just matched her mood. I see her now in my mind, young, barefoot and newly married, in a kitchen not yet hers, lifting a spoon to her mother’s lips and asking if the peas were soft enough. What was her scent like?  Turmeric?   Talcum powder? Or those white rajnigandha flowers she loved so much? I don’t remember. I think of my father and the way he used to hum when he shaved, a...
Read more

A Village Denied

By Sadhika on
Image
Co-authored by  Shrankhla and Sadhika on August 28, 2025 Of all the deprivations visited upon modern childhood, none is so grave and yet so little acknowledged as the absence of other people. Those of us who grew up in fuller households know what today’s children are missing. We remember weddings where ten different families would squeeze into one house, sleeping on the floor, with cousins lined up like sardines. We remember giving up one’s own bed to an elderly uncle, and waking up to the sound of aunties and uncles gossiping arguing over tea. In those homes, very little belonged entirely to us. The bed we slept on, the food on our plate, not even our stories. Someone was always listening in, correcting us, mocking us, softening our triumphs with their own, or placing a hand on our shoulders when we faltered. It was infuriating. It was also how we learned that life is not designed for any one person’s comfort—least of all a child’s. Siblings taught us this brutally and tende...
Read more

So begins our undoing

By Sadhika on
In rich aplomb we sit Atop the piles of gold and good That we write to our credit, When the good Lady Fortune’s scales tip And the waves of Chaos come gushing in From directions unventured, To lay waste to our kingdoms. So begins our undoing. Then a shadow confronts us To which, earlier, we became privy Only in brief flashes of thought or dream, And brushed away with impatience. The darkest among us have a still darker self Long lost and buried Beneath the best of us. The old altars lay slighted, Our ideals bear no resemblance  To the names we gave them. We are ruled by Furies aplenty. How do we rebuild our fallen kingdoms Without Divine Guidance? Somewhere along our final descent, We meet the gods we banished. A faint glow (perhaps even imagined)  Beckons across the waste yonder. Do we follow? Or do we give in to the darkness? 
Read more