A Love-Hate Relationship With My Body

What does living in a brown body mean for me?

It can be compared to a home in all aspects. I’ve had a love-hate relationship with it, it’s a place of solace — the only thing I call mine, it’s been a topic of criticism from others and in turn from me, it’s been an embodiment of pride and confidence in phases. It’s a home with its own dysfunctionalities and a place of mixed memories, intertwined feelings.

I remember my teenage years being engulfed by criticism about having a big butt. Maybe it happened under ten times from family members, but it seems like that was all I was thinking about and I am stuck with that for a lifetime. I’ve always been conscious of that body part. Their criticism also was in all possibilities entangled with the brown culture that asks young girls and women to hide their bodies in every way possible, lest they become objects of lust. But in their ways of protectiveness, they end up criticising the most natural forms of a body. For the longest time, I remember cringing at the idea of going shopping for a pair of jeans because my mother would emphasise that I need a bigger size because of my butt. My ‘concerned’ aunts would end up asking me about why I have a big butt or why it has increased in size as if I had the answers. Then exercises would be recommended.

In my early twenties, when I freed myself from the clutches of staying at home, being under the constant supervision of parents and relatives, I was on my way to my first job. Once in a different city, I got my own wings fuelled by my elder sister who was already there and supportive. I was a confident young woman, earning peanuts but happy. That was the phase when I slowly started appreciating myself and in turn, getting rid of the piled up fear towards my own body. I wanted to be proud of every inch I owned! I eventually came around my big butt and my body on the whole. I loved myself.

Going back home for visits was a struggle back then because all that mattered in a small town was the clothes we wore and the looks we received. Questions and instructions from family didn’t help. It still needs a sort of mental preparation for me to go home — ten years later — although for different added reasons too now.

Isn’t it appalling how brown culture almost makes it feel as if women are not supposed to have breasts and butts? Something we have absolutely no control over and yet, all our lives, are taught how to hide our most natural forms.

I’ve been in therapy since last year for my anxieties and one of the reasons traced back to being body-shamed as a teenager. It’s taken a whole year for me to completely accept my body image and now I can say that I’m starting to be at peace with my body. Even two years before I started therapy, although I was regularly working out, I had negative images of my body and it was always to get better at looking. But now after therapy, my workouts have become more health and happiness oriented rather than anything to do with looks. And that’s a big step in the right direction. I don’t badger myself anymore for missing a day or two of workouts now — to avoid putting self-inflicted guilt that we brown women are brought up with.

I’ve moved to the UK only last year from India, with my husband, just before the pandemic went from bad to worse. This has given me so much time to heal in different ways and to realise how to be comfortable with myself. We also decided to be child-free about three years back, which can only be deemed as an ominous decision in brown families. The thing about being termed as ‘rebellious’ (which we have been with this decision now) is that it frees one from all the societal pressures because that one decision makes you realise the power you hold.

I’ve started being vocal about questioning societal norms in general and about being child-free on my social media and it feels so great to connect with like-minded people. The power our voices carry is all that matters at the end and if I’ve realised one thing, it is that instead of succumbing to societal norms, questioning them might be a better option.