In the Spring of 2007 Author, professor and Fat Activist Katie Lebesco came to speak as a part of the Women’s History Lecture Series. The following article was written by Rose Sabangan as a response to Lebesco’s talk:

“Aba, nagdalawang tao ka na!” Aunt Sioning gasped, when she greeted me during my family’s visit to Sacramento in 1998. Whoa, you are now two people! My female elder’s unabashed candor still haunts me and continues to reflect the thinking of other (respectfully silent) relatives and friends within the Filipino-American community: For while it was acceptable and even hoped that, upon immigrating to the United States at age 16, I would have grown out of my malnourished, 85-pound physique and into a richer, larger embodiment of Western capitalistic success, my unexpected 25-year weight gain was ultimately considered a stunning failure. I neither adhered to a long-held slender, mahinhin Filipina aesthetic that remains grounded in a Roman Catholic morality nor to the modern-day American beauty ideal that values my once-youthful third-world famished look. Today, however, I am prepared to reintroduce myself to Aunt Sioning as a proudly successful and, yes, fat Filipina-American.

Admittedly, in 2007 my 210-pound body reminds me daily that I am in need of change. I have been convinced by the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, for example, that because I am not “the average,” healthy “American woman” who weighs 160 pounds and “has a Body Mass Index [BMI] between 18.5 and 25,”(1) I need to take corrective action to move away from the high-risk, unhealthy “obese” category. Dutifully, I’ve engaged myself, in partnership with neighbors and peers, in yo-yo diets, including Weight Watchers, Atkins, low-carbohydrate diets, and even fasting. I’ve also applied for trial memberships at the Lucille Roberts Fitness for Women and Equinox gyms, bought videotapes and a treadmill for home, and tried to schedule social walks for exercise. I’ve read all kinds of medical literature on the Internet, books, and articles on varying approaches to a healthy self. I’ve worked with nutritionists and medical doctors, who’ve prescribed various approaches in diet as well as pharmaceutical intervention. According to activist Kathleen LeBescoe, my determination to do something about my apparent weight malaise reflects and feeds into the general American “moral panic” about obesity.(2)

LeBescoe and other fat activists would say that my family and I have surrendered to the obesity moral alarm, which thrives despite the possibility that the dangers reported by the media and medical literature are disproportionate to the actual experience of fatness. My medical providers have led me to believe, for example, that with my fat body I should feel lucky that I have defied the odds of contracting a dreaded major illness and even death. I must have inherited the right or “healthy” genes --- probably from my 79-year-old mom, who has followed instructions from her primary care doctor to daily prick her finger and monitor her blood sugar levels. Though she is not overweight, she is dangerously close to being diabetic. Heeding her own doctors’ advice, Mom is determined to prolong life for as long as her heart condition allows, she says. Highly advertised dangers of obesity and disease have also been given credence in the case of my 48-year-old younger sister Pauline. Not as lucky in her inherited genes as I, Pauline succumbed to Type II diabetes when her weight rose above 210 pounds and was prescribed medication for several years --- that is, until she returned to the Philippines in 2006. After a nine-month stay and a combination of stricter medication compliance and lifestyle changes in Manila, she is no longer considered a diabetic.(3) Whether Pauline’s medical success story proves to be a pie in the face of Western medicine remains to be determined. Whether she inherited her not-so-good genes from Dad is equally unclear. Out of distrust or fear perhaps, Dad did not agree to a biopsy procedure that might have supported prevailing medical opinion that his kidney failure, which resulted in his death in 1994, was caused by diabetes. I have not been completely spared from the obesity-related ailments of sleep apnea and gastroesophageal reflux and so, despite fat activists’ urging not to be obsessed “with obesity facts,”(4) I continue to listen albeit selectively and cautiously to medical and media advice in hopes of managing my body size and health.

According to LeBescoe, today’s societal preoccupation with obesity and obesity-related disease has produced a mandate to do something about the epidemic. As a result, my fat friends have been shamed by society into losing weight. Co-worker Sue is constantly hurt by the hostile or taunting looks she gets when she occupies more than her share of seating in the subway car or bus to and from work. She still bristles at the memory of her last annual physical and weigh-in, when the doctor berated her: “Why would you want to play Russian roulette with your life?” Despite her otherwise clean bill of health, a stunned Sue had to endure the anger of her physician who is outraged by her body size. In New Jersey, nurses rolled their eyes at my friend Vanessa during her hospital visits to her husband Andy. “Oh, him,” these health-givers said, not hiding their objection to having to assist overweight Andy in getting out of bed, even though his health depended on daily walks or getting to the bathroom. His latest bout with inadequate care at the physical rehabilitation center almost immediately brought him back to the hospital’s ICU with pneumonia. According to LeBescoe, my friends’ experiences illustrate the ways in which societal indignation are directed at fat bodies. Societal messages of hostility towards fatness are echoed in a barrage of media and literature that reiterate statistics on the rise of childhood obesity, diabetes, and diabetes-associated deaths; obesity’s threats to female fertility, and the skyrocketing rise in insurance costs. In the area of entertainment, television shows highlight body makeovers to remove ugly fat, clown-like representations of obese women, and even threatening rap lyrics that use the word “fat.”(5) Society seems to have reached a consensus that the practice of unrelenting public reproach directed at my fat friends is to be sanctioned, and that negative repercussions of such a practice are to be endured solely by their “fat” targets.

It was clearly not the case that in 1998 my unassimilated Aunt Sioning was in a “moral panic” about what Kathleen LeBescoe and other fat activists have come to associate with the obesity epidemic. Still, in 2007, memories of my elder’s admonition pair with pronouncements from the media and the medical arena to exercise social control over my efforts at feeling good about my body size. Aunt Sioning’s remark, in fact, is open to different interpretations that reveal the complexity of my social position with respect to different and changing, culturally based beauty standards. My elder’s observation that I had turned into “two people” could have been construed as an offhand, harmless reaction that registered shock at encountering a severe change in my physical appearance. That is, her allusion to my weight gain could have conveyed indirect use of the English word “fat” as nothing more than a “neutral signifier” for size. Strictly speaking, according to LeBescoe, word descriptors like “fat” and “thin” do not connote judgment, moral or otherwise.(6) On the other hand, Aunt Sioning and cousin Edgar virtually walked right past me at the airport. The poor, sickly waif that once inhabited the older, heftier version of my self had also traded her shiny black, knee-length tresses for a salt-and-pepper, waist-length cut; my 1970s miniskirt and Marikina(7) high heels for 1990s Capri pants and comfortable Teva sandals. Aunt Sioning may have also inadvertently described me as “two people” because my outward presentation was of an unfamiliar Western-acculturated Filipina.

I still painfully remember, however, that at the Christening feast held in honor of my infant niece, Aunt Sioning followed me around and watched me like a hawk, whispering admonitions like “you should try not to fill up your plate like that,” and “it’s better to take smaller portions at a time, like I do.” It occurs to me now that, as I nevertheless unheedingly and happily chowed down on the Filipino delicacies, negative judgment after all had accompanied my aunt’s observation on my physical transformation. Delicious, ethnic food, which, as symbols of prosperity, were traditionally shared in family rituals and celebrations, became a cultural tool to measure morality. My elder’s unappetizing dinner scolding associated my body size with the culturally-negative practice of gluttony. According to my early and deeply inculcated understanding of Christian scriptures, the act of cleaning up a bountiful food plate demonstrated a lack of control of bodily appetite and, hence, a lack of moral backbone. The more food I enjoyed from cousin Edgar’s spread, the more Aunt Sioning was convinced that in my 25-year stay in the United States, I had become fat because I could no longer adhere to my birth country’s moral teachings.

To Aunt Sioning, adding a small measure of prosperous American fatness to my 1972 impoverished Philippine skin-and-bones frame would have signified a morally acceptable level of resistance to sin. My balikbayan(8) elder’s behavior around the dining table also projected Filipino-American society’s anxieties about the home country’s sociopolitical and economic state. Such general societal anxieties, according to LeBescoe, have particular negative implications within the lower socioeconomic populations. In the Philippines, eating all and anything on the plate is a positive act: food feeds the really, really hungry. Results of a Philippine government survey in 2004 revealed that “15.1 percent of household heads [reported] that their families had experienced hunger, without having anything to eat, at least once in the last 3 months.”(9) Filipino relatives tell me that Philippine families have tightened the austerity belt even more and only eat one meal per day. In a Filipino culture that values community sharing and service over self-centered achievement, my act of eating in excess of the norm necessarily and unfairly robbed precious nourishment from another. Cognizant as my Aunt Sioning remained about Filipino culture and the disturbing scarcity of food in the Philippines, she viewed my fatness in the context of my eating habits as not only morally reprehensible, but also as thoughtless and selfish gorging. My elder’s nagging was a slap on the wrist for the fat, rich, overeating, self-involved Filipino-American immigrant who seemed not to remember nor care about the culture and starving nation from which she came.

I already had an inkling in 1998 that Aunt Sioning’s thinly veiled hostility toward my bigger physique was further triggered by her culturally-based view that a “fat” Filipina body is not beautiful. In the Philippines, I had grown up knowing that extreme thinness was associated with the home country’s poverty and ill health and could therefore not be a symbol of beauty. Though in high school my dark (Malay) features constantly attracted nominations for the title of class muse,(10) I never won the coveted title. Even my 17-year-old, loving boyfriend at the time could not help but tease me about my male “rock star” look, with a flat chest and a severely thin frame. Further, most Filipinos valued beauty that resembled the more voluptuous Western ideal, as embodied by the French actress Catherine Deneuve or American actress Candice Bergen, with their blonde hair, blue eyes, light skin, and tall, curvaceous bodies. Resistance to this Western ideal nevertheless existed in a competing, racially assertive beauty ideal of mahinhin femininity, which even as a young girl I implicitly understood resided in the hearts of many Filipinos. Famously personified by (Philippine national hero Jose Rizal’s) fictional female character Maria Clara, mahinhin is the slender and unworldly descendant of the original maganda (beautiful) ideal of Philippine creation mythology. Maganda, female half of male Malakas (strong), has been portrayed by Filipino artists young and old as endowed with a strong, voluptuous naked body “springing from the primal bamboo” of the tropical islands (see Figure 1).(11, 12) The pre-colonial maganda has since been clothed in Spanish-era-influenced Christian virtues of modesty and gentleness, and the newer, more lasting mahinhin ideal I still see on the silver screen, beneath the heavily made-up eyelashes of the more dominant (Spanish- or American-mixed) mestisa features, her still-slender body sashaying in more fashionably Western clothing.

It was with strong feelings of pride that I, along with other olive-skinned Filipinas, greeted the news that local beauty Gloria Diaz captured the titles of Miss Philippines 1969 and Miss Universe 1969. The always smiling petite Gloria, with unblemished olive skin and shiny, long, straight black tresses draping her dainty figure, closely resembled the mahinhin ideal (see Figure 2). In my recollection, Ms. Diaz won the Miss Universe pageant not only on the basis of her looks but also because of her poise and intelligence when answering the judges’ final question. In 1969, Gloria Diaz’s unexpected victory drew international attention to a vision of beauty that challenged the dominant, Western ideal --- much like in the previous year when Saundra Williams stood tall as the first Miss Black America to protest the existing, exclusive American Eurocentric ideal. In separate world hemispheres, the 1960s beauty pageant announced “a new and more inclusive beauty standard:”(13) “mahinhin is beautiful” from the East and “black is beautiful” from the West. Gloria Diaz’s “natural” long, flowing, black hair, much like Saundra Williams’ “natural” Afro, became a symbol of racial pride. “When America conquered the moon,” then President Nixon pronounced, “the Philippines conquered the Universe!”(14) Diaz’s pictures splashed across all media, because her achievement gave hope that beauty was attainable to the simpleng mamamayan, or to the ordinary Filipina citizen.

Mahinhin was the aesthetic against which Aunt Sioning viewed me in 1998 and toward which I aimed my sights when I migrated to New York City. I arrived in 1972 with the expectation that the promised wealth and ease of life in the new country would give me a chance to correct my physical unhealth and gain some semblance of (Filipina) beauty. Ms. Diaz the triumphant beauty queen had some meat on her bones, especially in the strategic areas of hips and chest. The “meat” denoted her enviable ability to procure material things that were reserved for and abundantly available to only a small number of Filipinos with wealth and social means. It connoted access to servants who shopped in the marketplace and prepared delicious, nutritious foods. Like me, Filipinos who eventually migrated and settled in the land of plenty aspired to prosperity and a beauty ideal that could not be upheld by the thin, malnourished physiques reminiscent of Manila’s punishing life. I was aware that too much meat on the bone was undesirable, but a lifestyle of moderation was hardly an issue then.

On the plane ride to New York, I was more fearful that American-made clothes would literally fall off my skinny, flesh-and-bone frame. As I hunted for bargain-priced items (given my low budget) in the racks of stores along 14th Street, I found myself either shopping in the girls’ section for dresses and sweaters and coats or the boys’ department for pants and shirts. Small-sized dresses and sweaters were available in the junior departments of large stores, but I had to dig. Shopping for underwear was also confusing and embarrassing. My flat chest could not fit into the smallest size bras, and so I had to settle for training bras and undershirts. To my relief, I managed to assemble a wardrobe for work and school after I learned and doggedly negotiated through the size designations of New York’s fashion scene. Also, Mom saw to it that among my first stops upon arrival was a checkup with Dr. Gold in Rego Park. She wanted to make sure that I procured proper medical and nutritional guidance. Embarrassing as the experience was for me (the kindly doctor not only prescribed multivitamins and poked out my blackheads, he prescribed treatment for intestinal parasites), I was glad to hear that my unhealthy thinness would soon go away. In my first decade in New York, I rejoiced at how good and strong I was starting to feel. In the cold, winter months especially, my tropical body acquired enough “fat” insulation to stop my teeth from chattering. I enjoyed a daily spring in my step and a feeling of mental sharpness as I assimilated into an American life of school and work and a social network of friends in and around New York City. I would have been happier if I had known then that I enjoyed a body that also came close to representing the Filipina ideal of beauty. Unappreciated by Aunt Sioning, and certainly unbeknownst to most Filipinos in the homeland, was the fact that my weight gain also marked my success in fitting in a new life in my adopted society.

In fact, and perhaps subconsciously, Aunt Sioning frowned upon my body size because my “fat” represented my rebellion against certain Filipino-American cultural norms. A few years before my California visit, I made decisions that ran counter to family expectations, in both body size and life choices. Expected and acceptable weight gains that slowly accumulated and followed my two pregnancies in 1983 and 1991 accelerated alarmingly in 1995, when I decided, against my Mom’s and Filipino-American in-laws’ advice, to leave my 15-year marriage. Though thankfully I did not incur the wrath of the Catholic church (for, already, this Catholic-baptized Filipina uncharacteristically went against the cultural grain by getting married during a weekday in downtown Queens City Hall), my pursuit to have it all --- a happy family, a job, my own house, financial independence --- met with family misgivings. I, therefore, had to single-handedly move my two children into our own house in the Bronx, bob my waist-length hair to secure a new job, enroll and graduate my first child from college, successfully undergo two major surgeries, and return to college myself --- before I ballooned into my present-day 210-pound persona. In the intervening years since my 1998 California visit, I had to manage a previously untried and extremely stressful single-mom existence with hardly any support from my Filipino-American relations. Though outwardly, like Aunt Sioning, I find it difficult to see the beauty beyond my body’s reflection, without hesitation I luxuriate today in my state of freedom and independence. With utmost certainty, I know that I have made the right choices for myself and for my children. Despite life’s ups and downs and my continuing struggle with health, blessed I feel these days that I am surrounded by supportive “fat” friends, in my neighborhood and at work, who appreciate my desire to feel better and to look better. My latest morsel of wisdom comes from school and from newly-introduced “fat activists,” who encourage a notion of living that I already espouse, that is, of leading a life that values “health at every size” and is fully accepting of who I truly am.

Just recently, I had paused for a brief moment to ponder the cap-and-gown size questionnaire for the Sarah Lawrence College graduation commencement. 5’3”, I quickly penned under “Height,” a number I knew by heart because I had not grown any taller since I migrated to New York in 1972. 210 pounds, I jotted down under “Weight,” almost immediately because my latest physician check-up result was still fresh on my mind. I paused because I remembered Aunt Sioning, who in 1998 could not immediately appreciate life’s complexities that were inherent in my fat physique. I realized as well that before I finally ascend the graduation steps in May, I have learned that, although I will continue to be pulled apart by the conflicting influences of my birth country’s elders and by my adopted modern-day American ideals, in 2007 this particular Filipina-American cannot snugly fit into any cultural model. Given the opportunity to turn back the clock, I would have asked Aunt Sioning to reexamine her views given that her niece managed a successful journey from extreme poverty in Manila to a relatively comfortable, independent American life that allows enjoyment of annual family vacations in California! I am now content to be on the happy road to self acceptance.

(1) Autumn Phelps, Florida Today. “CURVY vs. SKINNY: Go figure. Plus-size beauties upset battle to be stick thin.” April 11, 2007.

(2) Kathleen LeBescoe. “What Does it Mean to be Fat in the Context of an “Obesity Epidemic?” Sarah Lawrence College, April 5, 2007.

(3) Although I have been made aware by Filipino relatives of her significant weight loss (of over 40 lbs), I do not have exact information on Pauline’s current blood sugar levels or other medical components associated with a diagnosis of diabetes. Further, I have been recently informed by a medical provider that, in some countries like India, blood sugar levels that correlate to a diabetes diagnosis differ from the U.S., and from country to country.

(4) Kathleen LeBescoe, 2007.

(5) Kathleen LeBescoe, 2007.

(6) Kathleen LeBescoe, 2007.

(7) The town of Marikina, my Dad’s birthplace, is the shoe industry capital of the Philippines.

(8) A Filipino citizen or immigrant who regularly returns to the Philippines.

(9) Jenina Joy Chavez, Mary Ann Manahan and Joseph Purugganan. Global Policy Forum. “Hunger on the Rise in the Philippines.” October 12, 2004. (http://www.globalpolicy.org/socecon/hunger/economy/2004/1012philippines.htm)

(10) The class muse was defined to embody beauty. In practical terms, she served an inspirational role in student government, much like a cheerleader. She might have emceed events or marched up front in parades.

(11) Five Hundred Years of Philippine History, 1953 International Fair, Manila. (http://www.geringerart.com/geringerbios.html)

(12) Malakas at Maganda: Men, Maidens and Myths, 1979 (http://www.alanguilan.com/museum/redondo12.html).

(13) Maxine Leeds Craig, Aint I a Beauty Queen? Black Women, Beauty, and the Politics of Race. (New York, Oxford University Press, 2002), 18.

(14) Gloria Diaz Miss Universe Photo Album: Remembering the 1969 Miss Universe Pageant. October 8, 2006. (http://nostalgiamanila.blogspot.com/2006/10/gloria-diaz-photo-album-remembering.html)