My Summer Body Died

Dogs can be racist & Black people need sunscreen

I’ve been wearing black because I’m in mourning, my summer body died. I’m ready for fall, and I’m also ready to fall literally, in sweaters.

Summer has just begun, I know but it’s been intense, I watched a meter maid get beat up, which hear me out, he is a big-time jerk and had it coming. And then my partner and I saved a three-year-old from the middle of a physical fight her mom was in, the mother thanked us for picking up her baby, but then the other person in the fight wanted to fight us and called me fat, and then after that scuffle, I panicked on how close in contact we all were I said ahhhhh monkeypox. MONKEY POX! We aren’t handling diseases well, because we live in an individualized country, we have learned nothing from our sassy friend Covid-19 and all its strains of cousins named BA.4 BA. 5 BA.2 and then those other distant cousins that we’ll probably meet during this holiday season.

I hope that through this we shift blame to those that have the tools to prevent diseases. Any other discourse is and can be important around those who choose not to protect themselves and others, but it holds no long-term productivity or solutions, we cannot again, sensationalize this for likes, for followers, for talking points, to use our collective pain for moments to be the first one with the “hot take” and to be right, when it gets ugly, let’s keep our foot on everybody’s necks, and then remember to center these dire moments of hopelessness around those in power who intentionally take away hope, whose levity and lack of care around our collective health win at being the top of the irresponsible pyramid.

My summer body died. I tried to keep it alive I tried to keep it the same, to embrace the changes that my body never invites me in on and ask me if I’ll be okay with these sudden changes and the fatphobic thoughts I have of myself. When I was recovering from covid in 2020 I remember looking in the mirror and being stunned at my body, it looked familiar, this naked shell of myself, I was shocked at the weight loss and also said: “hey I remember you, you weak-bodied person.” I didn’t care much about weight until I remembered how I use to look.

I’ve always had eating issues, fine ill say it, an eating disorder. But I’ve made promises to myself as an adult, I won’t weigh myself, I won’t check the sizes of my clothes, I’ll cut the tags, if something doesn’t fit it just doesn't. And I’ll put it to the side.

I’ve been saying since I was in high school that I love the fall and winter, I can hide my arms and legs. I can be Elizabeth Holmes and wear a black turtle neck and hide the double chin I didn’t have. I can create an illusion of being thin. And now currently in my 30s, I’ve been the most confident I’ve ever been in my life, but this summer, without comparing myself to anyone, without dreaming of a different body, I want nothing to do with showing any part of my body, but it’s directed to just myself.

It’s me against me. I started to think I cared about how others viewed my body, but when I realized I was ignoring my body when alone, running quickly past a mirror but okay for others to see me in a swimsuit, yet wearing a t-shirt in the pool when I’m swimming alone in the middle of nowhere. It makes maybe no sense to you, but It showed me that I was more uncomfortable alone with my body, because there is no filter no border no distraction I have to face my body alone.

Maybe next summer I’ll be back, but right now, as confident as I feel, there are inconsistent feelings I have around my body and my chest, and I’m recognizing that I don’t have to be strong, and pose nude to accept myself. I’ll do what I need to in a healthy way, to feel better alone with my body, and confront my gender dysphoria. Even though I’m wearing black even though my summer body died, I want you all to know I am wearing sunscreen. A sunscreen that doesn’t look like I’m in white face.

One more story before you go, before you hit up our wacky friends at PETA I love dogs…

But remember, my summer body died and that is also because my body is political and with the government reminding me of the lack of autonomy I dare try to obtain. I can’t be human in the summer, as there is always something reminding me that I shouldn’t exist so freely, that I shall not be entitled to freedom. This something, was a dog, a dog that reminded me that colonization is why dogs can be racist. I don’t think I need to insert an image of a dog in the 1960s attacking Black people I have hope in us all that we have that image somewhere filed under ‘ Bad Things That Have Happened to Black People’ throughout history white people put dogs in a shitty position in colonialism and racism, to protect whiteness and attack Black people. There was an incident with a dog who just wants to “play” conveniently while Black people are relaxing outside. on like billion acres of land the owner of the dog was being nosy and sent her dog over so she could then pretend to chase him and see what we were doing. And I thought it was a fox because it was dark and I was ready yall, let’s just I was ready to use that adrenaline superpower that scientists say all humans have when in panic mode.

How do I know this was racially motivated? How do I know this is white supremacy? Well, this isn’t the first time my summer body has died. This isn’t the first time my summer body has panicked, this isn’t the first time my summer body has been reminded that it isn’t allowed to be free.

-C

My summer body in a sweater