When Fat Activists Choose Weight Loss: What It Means for the Rest of Us
A client said something in a session this week that I want to talk about. She has been a fat activist for years. She’s grounded, political, outspoken. She’s deeply connected to her values. But several difficult things in her personal life coincided, and she found herself spending money she could ill-afford on what I’d call a unicorn treatment – something marketed to magically cure cellulite. It didn’t work. Of course it didn’t. She was bewildered by her own choice. This was not “her.” Not the woman who has held the line in her activism, not the woman who has been such a source of strength to others.
We spoke about the wider climate we are all living in right now. How putting your head above the parapet can feel dangerous. Speaking up, speaking out, can carry real risks. The rising tide of political backlash, the hard-right rhetoric that filters into everyday conversations, the way marginalised groups of all kinds are being squeezed. On top of that, the relentless marketing of weight-loss treatments – pills, jabs, “unicorn cures” – adds a new and very toxic fuel to the fatphobic fire. And in the midst of it, influencers and public figures who once stood firm in body liberation are now openly pursuing weight loss again. For someone who has held her ground for years, this has felt destabilising. Lonely. Vulnerable.
And I think this is important to name. Because when the culture around us shifts, it makes sense that even the strongest among us wobble. It makes sense that hope feels thin, that doubt creeps in, that old promises of quick fixes might suddenly look tempting.
I want to be clear about something here. I believe deeply in body autonomy. Which means I support everyone’s right to make their own choices about their body – including people who choose intentional weight loss. The fact that someone makes that choice does not make them a failure, or a traitor, or weak. It makes them a human being in a world that punishes us relentlessly for our bodies.
But we also need to acknowledge the pressure. The way the culture is pressing down harder right now. And to remind ourselves that the fight for body liberation isn’t just about image. It’s about dignity. Safety. Belonging. Humanity. And not only for size – for every body that sits outside the narrow ideal. For queer and trans bodies. For racialised bodies. For disabled bodies. For scarred and marked bodies. For anyone whose body tells the truth of who they are, rather than the story the culture wants to hear.
If you have felt wobbly lately, you are not alone. If you’ve found yourself questioning, or reaching for things you thought you were past, you haven’t failed. You are living through a time that is hard on bodies, and harder still on anyone who has dared to resist.
The resource we need most right now is compassion. For each other, yes. But also for ourselves. Compassion that can hold the wobble. That can remind us that no single action erases who we are or what we stand for. That even when the world is heavy and lonely, we are not wrong to long for freedom.
Body liberation was never meant to be carried alone. This is true of all liberation movements. It’s something we grow together. And the way we keep going is by staying in community, by talking to each other, kindly, respectfully, and by not giving up. By staying connected, we remind ourselves we are not alone.
Hi, I'm Vania.
I'm passionate about helping you break free from the exhausting cycle of yo-yo dieting, body shame, overeating, bingeing, and emotional eating.
For decades, I was at war with my body and food. It wasn't until I found an approach which didn't involve strict rules, diets and a focus on weight, that my relationship with food and my body transformed into one of ease and peace. There’s a lightness in living when food no longer holds power over your thoughts. If you're seeking that kind of freedom — where food becomes simple and life feels full — I’d love to walk that journey with you.
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