I’m a big woman. Not fat, not wobbly (which would be an entirely different sin of its own).
I’m nearly six feet tall. I’m broad-shouldered, big-boned, and long-limbed.
There was absolutely no point in my life that I was not going to be large. Genetics decided that for me.
I take up space, which apparently in our society is a crime worthy of punishment if you’re a woman.
Because, in case you hadn’t noticed, we women are supposed to be small. Underweight, taking up no space, not making any noise or having any opinions. We’re supposed to be pretty, according to a very narrow definition of pretty.
The first time I was told I was too tall I was about 12. A guy I liked said I would be pretty if I wasn’t so huge. I was about an inch taller than him. We got on well as friends but he told me he couldn’t be seen with a girl who was taller than him.
Two years later my father started calling me “buffalo butt” and laughing at the “joke” because he thought he was a wit. I was medically underweight at the time. I started my first diet about then.
When you’re meant to be big, and your frame and your bones are big, and your feet are fast getting up to size 11, there is no diet in the world that will make you smaller.
My best friend said she was embarrassed when we went shoe shopping and the shop had nothing to fit me. My mother kept saying I should be more ladylike – whatever that meant.
I think it meant “less like me”. I think it meant less everything to do with me. Less of me.
I started to realise that’s what the world wants. It wasn’t just me either, with all my size. It wasn’t personal, even though it hurt like hell.
Women were supposed to be less than men. Not just less in our achievements and our abilities, but in our size, our space that we control, our earnings, our ideas, our voices. Everything.
We were supposed to be “assistants”, not the person being assisted.
We were nurses, not doctors.
We were teachers, not Principals – unless of a primary school or kindergarten.
We were secretaries, not the boss.
We were the scenery – the eye candy – in the movies.
Not the hero.
At school I remember asking about being an engineer, and being told, “Oh, you don’t want to do that!“ and being steered towards a career as a nurse or a teacher. I didn’t fancy cleaning, so I opted for teaching.
There weren’t many “acceptable” options for girls to choose from, after all.
Women live in a smaller world, and we’re supposed to be smaller to fit into it. But as I grew older, something clicked. I guess I started wondering what happens when a person demands a bigger world? What happens when we’re too big for the boundaries others set for us?
I sometimes wonder if I would be the same person today if I hadn’t been born too big to fit the role society wanted me to fit?
If I’d been born the “right” size, looked the “right” way, would I have challenged the role that I couldn’t fill?
Those Cinderella shoes were never going to fit me. So I created a new fairytale with myself as its champion. Would I have done so had the glass slipper fit?
I don’t know. I don’t have answers. But I know one thing: I, in my oversized body, said Fuck It to the world.
The world as it was didn’t fit me, so I created a new world that suits me better. That I liked better.
And, as I look around, the Ugly Sisters – all of us who never, ever could fit the shoes we were told to wear – we are all creating our own worlds, side by side.
- They told me I was too big, so I used my height and strength as an asset and began to think of myself as an amazon, proud and strong, with a heritage that goes back thousands of years.
They told me boys were smarter than girls, so I got myself a few degrees at University.
They told me computers were for boys (I wasn’t allowed to touch my brother’s computer when it was bought for him, in case I – less than two years his junior and a teen at the time – “broke it”). So I created the largest online community for Pagans in Australia at the time of its creation, became a WebMistress, ran webpages and online forums, and learned my way around the internet, before taking on a Software Engineering degree.
They told me I couldn’t fight because I was a girl, so I joined the Army.
They told me sport was for boys and that I sucked at it, so I went to the State Championships in rowing.
They told me girls were weak, so I became a bodybuilder and weightlifter.
They told me girls couldn’t be Leaders, so I became a Leader of several communities, transforming them and removing previous corrupt leaderships.
They told me I couldn’t write music, so I became a choral composer whose works have been performed worldwide.
They told me girls couldn’t change the world, so I wrote stories with new worlds in them.
Be the change you want to see in the world
I’m just an ordinary woman, with no special abilities. Except I don’t believe in boundaries and rules, and I don’t believe in Impossible.
Maybe that’s what has made my world so amazing? Because only by believing in the impossible can we make it happen.
Women can do anything.
Too long we’ve been told to keep our horizons near, and our world small.
Too often we’ve believed it when we’ve been told what we supposedly can’t do.
The combination of being told to keep ourselves small and being told to appease others is deadly.
It’s time we all said Fuck It to the world, and made some noise. Because, by doing so, we might just discover who we truly are.