

5 Latina Activists on Why They Fight for Body Image Acceptance

"As a body image advocate, I hope my activism does one thing: end diet culture in my lifetime."

Studies show that Latinas experience body image issues at rates comparable to or greater than those of non-Latina whites (for example, recent research suggests Latina women are just as susceptible to eating disorders as non-Latina white women, but are less likely to be diagnosed). But the distinct relationships these mujeres have with food, beauty perceptions, body dissatisfaction, and eating disorders are often absent in dominant body image conversations. Here, five Latinas share why they fight for body image acceptance.

Carolina Contreras, 28, Dominican Republic

Yael Duval

I landed in the Dominican Republic from the U.S. six years ago. I had just graduated college at the time, and I was searching for my roots. But I ended up finding them in a place that had been with me all along: underneath my relaxed hair. I, as with most other Latinas with afro-textured hair, have been told some troubling things about my "pajón." From childhood, I was told my hair was "bad" and that it needed to be "corrected." These messages are widespread, coming from well-meaning parents who take us to hair salons, hairdressers who want to "help," and a media industry that only portrays dark-skinned Latinas as the help. When a Latina is prominently shown with afro-textured hair, which is always a rare sight to see, she's usually portrayed negatively. That's why I created Miss Rizos.

Miss Rizos, my hair salon in the Dominican Republic, is a movement for and by Afro-Latinas. I'm an activist first, and my goal with Miss Rizos is to advocate, educate, and empower. One of the most important things for me is to ensure that women here are respected in the workforce and education system. A lot of times, women don't return to natural hair because they think they'll get fired or because they won't be able to take college entry exams. And while this form of discrimination does happen, I inform these women about the constitutional laws that protect them. I also educate people on how to change the language they use to describe their hair. In my salon, I have something similar to a swear jar. I'm not concerned with cursing, but any time someone discusses afro-textured hair as "bad," they must put 5 pesos in the jar. I remind them that their hair has never killed or robbed anyone and, thus, is not "bad." Language is powerful, and if we change the way we talk about hair, we are able to change the way we look at hair.

When I started Miss Rizos, I had no clue it would become what it is today. I had no idea that it would be in a print magazine in Peru, that some of my largest readers would be in Colombia, or that I'd receive messages from people in Venezuela telling me they love Miss Rizos.

Studies suggest that people with healthy self-esteem make better decisions in life, from wearing a condom to doing well in school. When you're working with someone to have a healthy body image, you're also working with them to ensure that they lead a healthy life. When you love yourself, you take care of yourself.

Virgie Tovar, 32, San Francisco

Virgie Tovar

I grew up being told that I was beautiful. In my house, I was called la reina. My family never discussed my weight. Food, to my abuela, was nourishment, and there was no such thing as "bad" food. But at school, I was inundated with messages that I was not a queen and that girls like me could never wear a crown. I was the fattest person and, therefore, the ugliest person. Growing up between two cultures — American and Mexican — was conflicting. Whether from the media or the other second- and third-generation kids I was around, I was constantly being told to assimilate. But part of assimilating into U.S. culture means dieting.

As a body image advocate, I hope my activism does one thing: end diet culture in my lifetime. It's an ambitious goal, but a necessary one. It's also one that, for me, is intrinsically tied to American identity. When I talk about diet culture, which refers to a society so engulfed in dieting propaganda that it affects how its people see themselves and each other, I often say it is not just about a drive to lose weight for health; it is also a drive to turn "others" into Americans, transforming them into uniform, idealized bodies — the American body. It is very difficult for me to say body image is just about weight. It is also about having lighter features, lighter and straighter hair, non-accented English, and more. Dieting is about fitting a certain size as much as it is about fitting into a box of what it means to be part of the American story.

There is literally nothing physically stopping a 250-pound woman from wearing a bathing suit, going on a date, refusing to calorie-count, or wearing lipstick. But after a lifetime of messages telling her that she does not deserve these things until she meets this constructed idea of beauty, she is psychologically barred from doing these things. For this and more, body image activism is important for both our mental and physical health. Arming people with a different narrative, whether that's through using my hashtag #LoseHateNotWeight, my book Hot & Heavy: Fierce Fat Girls on Life, Love, & Fashion, or public speaking, means so, so much to me.

Rosie Molinary, 41, Charlotte, N.C.

Rosie Molinary

I've always been a social justice activist. Earlier in my career, my work centered on gang-affiliated young men. But since 2007, I've focused on body image. Some people say it's a frivolous thing or that it is not important, but it's actually the foundation to everything. It is impossible to live from an empowered place without positive body image. Whether I'm blogging, writing a book, leading a workshop or a retreat, or teaching my body image course at the University of North Carolina at Charlotte, I like to instill three things in everyone I reach. The first one is about self-acceptance. I want everyone to be able to relate to themselves in a healthy, positive, and supportive way. Second, I help them find whatever it is they're passionate about, because it is in that answer that they can find their mission for the world. Finally, once they've realized what their talent is, I work with them to figure out how they will do that on purpose. Sometimes it's through a full-time job, while other times it's something someone does on the side. Either one is fine, as just recognizing our gifts and talents, acknowledging our message we have for the world and finding a meaningful way to do that in our everyday lives is what I'm concerned with.

This is important for everyone to understand, especially Latinas. The Latina voice is not very prominent in the body image movement, but ethnic identity, body image, and beauty perceptions come together for us in a very real way. My book Hijas Americanas looks at the ways Latinas reconcile the messages they receive in their homes with those they get from greater U.S. society. Often, ideas of beauty and what is considered acceptable are very different, with society begging us to assimilate, while our parents warn us of becoming too "gringa." Then there are additional factors that impact even Latinas differently. A Latina in a rural town, for instance, will experience body image unlike a Latina in New York City, as the messages she will receive in these communities are different. However, there is one challenge that remains true for almost all of us, including myself: the idea that we are not worthy enough to reconcile our relationship with ourselves. We feel like we don't deserve to put the time into us. But we do, and right now is the right time to do that.

Dania Peguero, 39, Atlanta

Dania Peguero

The words used to describe darker-skinned Latinas — words like "la prieta," "la negra" — are rarely paired with words like "bella" or "linda." Three years ago, when my sister Vilma and I decided to build a movement on Afro-Latina beauty, body image, self-acceptance, and empowerment, we knew we needed to place these terms together in a way we hadn't seen or heard them. Black Latina Negra Bella was born.

Despite myths perpetuated in the media and cosmetic surgery industries alike, there is not one standard of beauty. As with people, beauty comes in all shades, shapes, sizes, and phenotypes. Black Latina Negra Bella educates people of this fact through blogging and public speaking. We also sell shirts and mugs that juxtapose the words "Black Latina Negra Bella" with an image of a natural afro silhouette, using these items as a reminder for ourselves and conversation starters for others. We repeat these words with the hopes that one day, just "black" or "afro" will alone conjure up affirmative ideas of strength, vogue, and beauty.

But as much as Black Latina Negra Bella is a movement about body image, it is also one about race. I purposely use "black" instead of "afro" as a way to start a necessary conversation about race among Latinos. While we culturally identify with our nationality, or our parents' country of origin, many of us are categorized as black in the U.S. For me, race and body image are inseparable. In the community I grew up in, the standard of beauty was more European than African. But an overwhelming majority of the people in our Dominican salons were Afro-descended people who did not and could not fulfill that ideal. There was so much denial and failed attempts at achieving this European beauty standard. But I honestly believe if we had realized what it meant to be black and Latina, we would have recognized that we did not need to try to meet an unattainable idea of beauty — that we were already negras bellas.

Moreover, conversations about race aren't just crucial for body image work. A positive body image and self-esteem will allow us to be able to do the mandatory and taxing work around racial justice in this country. Every day, we deal with adversities like racism, police brutality, and mass incarceration. How can I deal with that if I don't understand my self-worth? I need to have a positive body image and love myself in order to handle my emotions and combat the everyday messages that counter what I know to be true: that my black life, and others like it, matter.

Gloria Lucas, 23, Los Angeles

Gloria Lucas

I struggled with an eating disorder in my late teenage years. During that time, I never saw someone like myself, a brown Xicana woman, talking about having an eating disorder. The media always disseminated the same image: a white, middle-class girl with anorexia. It wasn't until I read A Hunger So Wide and So Deep by Becky Thompson that I began to understand my own illness. In the book, Thompson writes that slavery has left a legacy of violence, particularly against black bodies, that persist today. This historical trauma made sense to me. As a brown woman, by which I refer to all the mixed-raced descendants of indigenous groups across what is now known as the Americas, my ancestors and I have always battled colonialism and patriarchy, and I began to wonder: What has this done to my body?

That's why I created Nalgona Positivity Pride (NPP), a body-positivity site that focuses on eating disorder awareness and what I call decolonizing body love. For me, this means helping others undo the harm that has been done to them through colonialism. For instance, the idea that white, thin, cisgender bodies are the ultimate definition of beauty is shoved onto us every day. The only way for us to heal, I believe, is for us to learn and connect to our history, so we can reclaim what has been lost and resist what we've been told is beautiful.

I also regularly lead a workshop called "I'm Not White, and I Have an Eating Disorder," where I discuss historical trauma and introduce the idea of decolonizing body love. I'm also working on a zine, which is currently accepting submissions, and I own an Etsy shop that sells body-positive shirts that say things like, "Beat eating disorders," and, "Decolonize body love." These funds allow NPP to travel for workshops and produce its zine. More importantly, it permits me to shine a light on a struggle that is so secretive, hurtful, and toxic, allowing brown girls to know that we are not alone in this battle with our bodies.

Follow Raquel on Twitter.

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