your bff kaye

Fat girls have fucking nothing.

I’ve been reading for, it feels like, as long as I have had sentience and consciousness, and it has taken me my entire life to meet someone in a book who looked like me and felt the same way I do and has struggled with some of the things I have struggled with, and is still loved.

Fat girls have nothing, and fat girls are told they are worth nothing. Fat girls have Aunt Marge Dursley, and Jane Umbridge, and eating disorders to beat and people to prove wrong by losing a lot of weight and letting out Their True Self, aka the Thin Girl Within. The Thin Girl Within is worthy; she is radiant and triumphant and beloved. She cannot be all those things and also be fat; at least, not in the young adult fiction I had at my perusal when I really, really needed someone to tell me it was possible to be radiant, and triumphant, and fat.

— 

How Finding a Fat YA Heroine Changed My Life

my latest on buzzfeed is a love letter to rainbowrowell and Eleanor and Park, and also a love/hate letter to Harry Potter, and I hope you will read it and tell me what you think. muah!

Hello, I am 20-something, and older folks need to stop telling me what the hell to do with my life.

Dear everyone who wants to write articles about what 20-somethings can do, should do, are doing, would do if they had any money or self-esteem or willpower (the Millenial lowlifes), or must do before they turn 30,

Please don’t.

Stop outlining. Stop typing. Delete the damn file and write about something more interesting, like for instance the mildew growing in the grout in my shower (because I’m 20-something and don’t know how to clean things, get it?) or 20 facts about pigeons or phallocentric obsession in Man of Steel. Literally anything else, at this point, would be preferable.

Look, I get it. Twenty-somethings are easy targets. We’re all jobless and never learned how to wash dishes without a dishwasher, or something. We’re taking #selfies on our Instavines all the time instead of figuring out the meaning of life, or whatever. And your website, which probably specializes in snark and/or lists and/or hard-hitting investigative journalism, is going to get SO MUCH TRAFFIC from this series of gifs. “So true!!” people will share. And you will lean back and watch the pageviews tick up, and you’ll be all, “It is so true.”

Motherfuckers, it is not so true. And while smug superiority is one hell of a drug, I’ve yet to see any list aimed at 20-somethings that doesn’t treat us like a subset of humans that has miraculously regressed to Apeman stage, poking fretfully at laundry machines and panicking whenever we have to feed ourselves.

Occasionally, people poke fretfully at laundry machines. They panic whenever they have to feed themselves, for a variety of reasons. People of all ages do these things. Some people, it’s true, do not know how to was dishes without a dishwasher. (What a miracle of modern convenience! What a time to be alive!) But I fail to see the purpose that approximately eight gazillion articles about these facets of ordinary human life, beyond that elusive king, the Viral Article.

I would be less frustrated if I thought that the people penning these articles had any answers, but I’m not convinced that they do. Sure, people in their twenties have less life experience and are trying to figure shit out in an economy that is spiraling gently down the shitter and has been for some time. Figuring out how to be a healthy, functioning adult is so goddamn difficult that even most adults haven’t managed it. And yes, it’s much easier to figure out when somebody is genuinely into you and when they’re treating you like smeary dog turds after you’ve had a handful of people do both. It’s easier to get stains out of expensive clothing after you’ve owned  more than one article of expensive clothing and had to get stains out of them more than once. It’s easier to stick to a routine once you’ve tried a few that don’t work for you, and found one that has. These things come with time. At 20, 23, 25, they are harder.

But do people turn 30 and instantly have all the answers? Are they self-actualized deities of instantaneous healthy relationships, stain-free quality wardrobes, and spotless apartments? Do they delete all of their social apps from their smartphone and replace them with budgeting and stock exchange apps? And when the hell did the definition of “adult” become “done with evolving,” anyway?

I don’t want to live in a world where I hit a certain age bracket and am expected to live in stasis for the rest of my fucking life. How goddamn depressing. Adulthood, if you were to project it simply from articles about 20-somethings, is mostly about shutting down all of your social media and never talking about cats ever again. I’m like 99% sure that adulthood is a little more complicated than that, and ever-evolving, and means something different to every person you ask, and the other 1% of me actively does not give a shit whether you’re tired of hearing about my cat.

Trust me: You do not need to slam down some list about how 20-something (women) need to wear less (or more) makeup or look more (or less) natural or exercise more (or less). You do not need to throw together some crappy gif treatise on how 20-something men are virtually impossible to be around, because of their arrogant poorly groomed plaid button-down facial hair, or something.

We’ll figure it out. Didn’t you?

anonymous asked:

You're creating a 5 book feminist book list, the goal of which is to educate someone who has never heard of feminism. Go! Okay maybe that's not a question. Please?

I love this question! In no particular order:
  1. Full-Frontal Feminism by Jessica Valenti
  2. Feminism is For Everybody by bell hooks
  3. What You Really, Really Want by Jaclyn Friedman (doubles as a sex ed and sexual health primer)
  4. Whipping Girl by Julia Serrano (super compelling)
  5. FAT!So? by Marilyn Wann

Hi everyone!

Big Fat Feminist has been alive for three and a half years, and I’m sure you’ve noticed that for the last year (or even more, if we’re all being honest with each other) I haven’t been updating much.

I’m very bad at figuring out when to let something go, but I think it’s time to admit that Big Fat Feminist – while it has been important, and wonderful, and brought me into such a beautiful community of wonderful people – is just not something I want to spend energy on anymore. When I sit down to write for this blog (and I have tried!) it feels like a chore. This never used to be the case.

I’ve been thinking about letting it go gently into the night for some time now, and I think I’m ready to say goodbye. My feminism has changed, in ways that I think are good. I am more intersectional, and far less dogmatic, than I used to be; I am more interested in conversation than debate; I am more interested in vulnerability, which I think is a tough thing to try on a platform like Tumblr, where exposing your vulnerable moments also means opening them up to debate. Not always, but often.

I am so glad and grateful that so many of you have stuck with me for these three and a half years, and I hope you won’t say goodbye. You can still find me on khaleesi and writing for BuzzFeed over on yrbff, and Twitter too if that floats your boat. Come talk to me! I don’t bite.

This blog will remain active as an archive, and the domain name will still be attached to it, if ever you feel like looking back.

Love,
your BFF Kaye