The fat body should not apologize

Body size can be intimate, but also deeply political. What led you to dedicate your work—as an activist, journalist, and author of Il peso in avanti—to the body and the fight against fatphobia?
It definitely all stems from personal experience. I’ve always had a non-conforming body. During middle school, I was bullied for it. Looking back at photos of myself at fifteen, I realize now that my body wasn’t fat at all. But back then—I’m 41 now—the ideals were Britney Spears and Ambra Angiolini: if your body looked different from your friends’, you immediately became a target. I went on my first diet at 16. I wore a size 46 (EU). Then I gained weight, and that marked the beginning of a long period of immersion in diet culture: diet, maintenance, weight regain, then another more extreme diet, and so on. This cycle went on for ten years. At the time, the issue was completely taboo: no one talked about body positivity, and non-conforming bodies weren’t represented in the media. Instead, there were constant judgments, jokes, and comedy sketches about fat people. I had never seen a fat journalist as a news anchor. When I started working for a local TV station, I felt like I had to lose weight to be able to do the job. No one said it outright, but I didn’t feel free. In 2016, I moved to Amsterdam for three years, and that’s where I encountered fat activism. It’s a society where diversity is taken as a given, so there’s more flexibility—even around bodies. People don’t police your body. It’s much rarer to hear judgment or ridicule. The moment everything truly changed for me was when photographer Silvana Denker was looking for models for a body acceptance campaign. I showed up for the pre–flash mob meeting, and while we were getting ready, we shared a cake. I was still stuck in diet culture at the time—I had eaten only a salad the night before! That day was revolutionary for my personal journey: I realized that your body shouldn’t be lived as a form of deprivation. A body is a body, full stop. During the flash mob, I confronted one of the biggest fears for a fat person: being in your underwear in front of strangers. But there, in that sisterhood with the other models, it became a moment of strength and liberation. At the time, I was sharing stories of life abroad on social media, and whenever I touched on body-related topics, the response was overwhelming. That’s when I started to study—first feminism, then fat acceptance. That’s where it all began.

“Body positivity” has become a widely used expression in recent years—but also one that is often misunderstood. What does it really mean, and how can we avoid turning it into a superficial message, unlocking instead its true political and cultural potential?
To truly move onto political ground, maybe we shouldn’t even be talking about body positivity anymore. It’s a term that’s been co-opted and watered down—adopted by influencers and brands for simplistic campaigns aimed at selling products. The idea that every body has value is at the core of both body positivity and body neutrality, but when that principle is used to create a new standard—or to reinforce the existing one—it loses all meaning. If the so-called “non-conforming” bodies we’re shown are still thin and white, what happens to those who really exist outside any standard? Where do fat, Black, lesbian people go? The point isn’t that “every body is beautiful.” Beauty shouldn’t be at the center anymore. Why should a woman—especially—feel that her main goal is to be beautiful? Why, in a professional setting where qualifications are equal, should the thinner or more conventionally attractive person be chosen? These days, I prefer to use terms like fighting fatphobia and body neutrality, precisely because I want to shift the focus away from “loving your body” to thinking about what your body does for you. During the years when my only goal was thinness, I was at war with my body—while it was working for me. Acknowledging that allows for a real shift in perspective.

The professional world is still tied to stereotypes about physical appearance, especially for women. What changes would you like to see so that all bodies are welcomed without prejudice, and fatphobia is actively challenged in the workplace?
The media world is emblematic: it’s extremely rare to see fat women on television, and this is a very Italian phenomenon. If we look at foreign broadcasters, we see different kinds of bodies—people of various sizes, Black people, women wearing hijabs, older individuals. I’d like to see the idea of the “physique du rôle” disappear altogether. If we truly believe in body neutrality, then every body is valid—even on TV. We can’t keep excluding entire categories of people. Because when these bodies enter workplaces, they change both self-perception and representation. Unfortunately, beauty is still a dominant criterion in the job market—at every level and every stage. The requirement of “pleasant appearance” is still very common. But what does that really mean? Fat people don’t always have access to clothing that’s considered “professional.” They often have to shop online or rely on fast fashion, which comes with significant environmental impact. Sizes are limited, as are styles and colors. Yet for a job interview, it’s taken for granted that you must present yourself in a certain way. Fat bodies are also frequently seen as unkempt or lazy. And this bias exists even in places where the body isn’t even visible—like radio. That’s something we shouldn’t accept, and yet we internalize it. Because a fat body is still perceived as a personal failure: it’s your fault for not working out, not going on a diet, not trying hard enough. The narrative says: “If you really wanted to, you could lose weight.” And as long as that remains the dominant narrative, fatphobia will continue to be legitimized.