Reflections of a Body Outsider, Part 1
Big Boy Pride. Big. Boy. Pride. The title alone cannot help but prompt a rash of questions, ones similar to other social identity affirmation events like Gay Pride or Black Pride. First, what exactly is a “big boy?” Who qualifies? What are they proud of exactly? And, what about it implies something queer or gay? For a first-timer like myself at what is euphemistically referred to by its patrons as BBP, merely agreeing to attend this event meant consenting to a certain set of assumptions about myself, ones largely viewed with ire and disdain by the broader culture. As if being Black, gay, from humble beginnings, of Chiraq, and respectively originating from mentally challenged and/or chemically dependent parents weren’t all enough without adding yet another layer, another “ding.” This marker some viewed as transformative, others transgressive, and more still as an indicator of sin (The sloth! The gluttony!) and a host of social pathologies (Oh, the laziness, the undisciplined!). To attend an event like this was to stick a middle finger in the air at all of this to say most simply: “I am.”
Accordingly, a handful of less rebellious, yet large friends turned down invitations to attend the Big Boy Pride festivities with the 10 or so strong coming from my Detroit contingency. Some were not quite ready to embrace the weight of those three words, pardon the pun. But, after several false starts into this double-dutch rope, I was ready to jump into this space with a mixture of excitement and trepidation, even if I wasn’t yet entirely 24/7 “proud” to be a “big boy,” wasn’t quite prepared for the vulnerable experience of taking off my shirt and having my tummy rubbed adoringly, wasn’t wholly comfortable in the new 4X spring wardrobe purchased to “slay the children” while secretly wondering if it was possible to slay anything in a 4x Polo but my pride. Yet, BBP, here I come, ready for whatever new ventures awaited me and those like me. And, by like me, I mean those with a complicated relationship and history with their body. Those whose spacious presence our intersectional communities sometimes embrace but largely reject so much that such an event and corresponding movement proved necessary at all.
Words & photo: L. Michael Gipson