When the Bear Isn’t the Only Threat

 

People love to talk about how men are the problem. How they’re the predators, the aggressors, the ones to fear. And sometimes, yes—they are.

But I’ve learned something else in the past two years that no one really talks about.

Women can be just as cruel.

Not in the same overtly violent, physically intimidating ways—but in words. In manipulation. In shame.

In whispers, screenshots, comment threads, and anonymous DMs that slice deeper than any blade could.

Since being on the show, I’ve been sent messages so vile they could rot your soul. People—mostly women—have told me in graphic detail how I should unalive myself, and why.

Why?

Because I’m disgusting.

Because I’m fat.

Because I have the audacity to exist in a body that they think shouldn’t be seen, let alone celebrated.

There are entire communities—groups of people who gather and bond over the belief that fat people don’t deserve to live.

And if we dare to exist anyway?

They demand that we do so while hating ourselves.

They believe we should be ashamed, apologetic, and in a constant state of punishment until we fit their mold.

Until we become “acceptable.”

It’s disturbing. But what’s worse?

It’s widely accepted.

It’s cheered for.

It’s laughed at, shared, reposted.

Don’t believe me?

Go scroll through the comment section of almost any fat girl’s social media page. Any one.

Or the next time a photo of a plus-size woman comes across your feed, open the comments.

Read them.

Take in the cruelty. Let it sink in. 

That’s what we live with. Every. Single. Day.

We are told we take up too much space. That we’re stealing value from the world by merely existing in it.

To those people, we are not allowed to feel joy.

We are not allowed to fall in love, or be loved.

We are not allowed to feed ourselves, to rest, to smile in public.

We are monsters.

Subhuman.

Because our bodies carry more fat than theirs.

Think about that.

Think about how deeply sad and broken someone must be to view another human being that way.

To strip them of their humanity just because they don’t like the way they look.

I’m not writing this for sympathy.

I’m writing it for awareness.

For the fat women who cry in silence.

For the ones afraid to post a photo, wear a dress, or eat lunch in public.

For the ones who carry this cruelty in their bones and try to smile anyway.

You’re not alone.

You are not the problem.

They are.

And we are done shrinking to make them feel more comfortable.