SoftLife x byHER Feature
What happens to young Black women when every idealized image of health and wellness disregards their existence? This is how Kamille Coppin reclaimed her body and rewrote her definition of what it truly means to be well.
Photo courtesy of The Brand Studio
Of the six kids in my family, I was the lone chubby child who couldn’t seem to shed her “baby fat” as my siblings and cousins did.
I would tug at my shirt, hoping it would flow over my stomach instead of clinging to my skin; I would shake, shimmy and jump my way into pants that barely fit, embarrassed to tell my mother the waistband was digging into my abdomen or that the sleeves on my shirt were too tight.
When I looked at my body all I could muster was feelings of frustration. And despite my mother’s feverish determination to never make me feel like my body was anything less than perfect, I dodged loaded terms of “endearment” like “bunga tuffy,” “thickness,” “Ms. fat bangles” “curvy/curvaceous” “big boned” “voluptuous” – this list goes on. Although my Guyanese family did not mean any true harm, what was conveyed to me was that I was different and the source of my difference was my shape.
What was projected onto me unintentionally was decades of internalized racism and fatphobia.
The miseducation of the women and men in my family trickled down to me like rainwater. While one small droplet does not seem menacing, the accumulating river excluded me and eventually swept me away in its currents.
The othering of my racialized body
The othering I experienced quickly transcended my home as I grew into a young woman in a rural Ontario town. All the Black kids in my elementary schools and high school were either my immediate family or close family friends. When I was with my family, I at least looked like I belonged. Among my school peers, it was harder for me to ignore that my thighs would touch when I walked, or that I didn’t quite fit in the tiny elementary school chairs.
It became a battle to shrink both my racial differences and my body.
The reality is, for many young Black and brown women, intersectionality multiplies negative ideals about their bodies. It's not just their size or shape. It is the context of their very being that does not fit within Eurocentric standards of overall health, mental or physical wellness.
Combating idealized whiteness and unrealistic physical expectations causes just under 50% of BIPOC individuals coping with eating disorders and poor body image to be diagnosed and treated, despite experiencing the illness at the same rate as their white peers.
In my own experience, this statistic allowed my disorders to fly under the radar for the entirety of my battle.
The destruction of my self-esteem
In an attempt to overcompensate for my difference, become slim and finally “fit” in, I made it my job to be as active as possible. I danced, joined the cross country running team, played volleyball, rugby - if there was a sport to try out for, I tried out for it. The best part was, except for a brief stint with basketball, I was good at it all and I loved the feeling of moving my body. This love of movement built my confidence. For a time it quieted the negative ideals I couldn’t seem to get away from. It reinforced for me that despite what society felt was wrong with my body - I could do whatever the thinner girls did.
The look on teachers', parents' and family members’ faces when they would see me, a chubby black girl, running, jumping, and being active, was usually somewhere between disbelief and judgement. Those who found my “effort” or “confidence” admirable would either congratulate me, or ask me if I was trying to lose weight, and if I was trying - why it was or wasn’t working.
People would be excited, relieved even, to see that I was trying to shrink myself. It did not matter how I was losing weight or if my methods did or did not include feeding myself. All that mattered was that I was “on my fitness journey” and getting smaller by the day. This is when I realized that “fit” was a one-size-fits-all term and according to society’s standards, fat could not be fit.
It’s important to note the difference between physical fitness and body composition. The misconception in Western diet culture is that a slim body composition is equivalent to physical fitness and overall health. The sheer lack of research into what determines the health of Black bodies excludes us from the conversation while marrying us to upholding Western ideals.
Over time, the looks and comments I endured ate away at my self-respect, worth and esteem. What started off as a budding love of movement and wellness turned into an obsession with being thin.
The continued frustration I held towards my body allowed me to justify the way I was treating it. It let me believe that finally fitting into size 8 jeans was worth barely eating all day, going to the gym for 2 hours and fighting fainting spells.
Before I could really catch myself I had fallen into patterns of disordered eating and purging. By my second year in university, I was the thinnest I had ever been, in the gym more than I had ever been, and the most unhealthy I had ever been.
The fallacy of body-positivity and the self-love movement
Between 2016 and 2018 I fell into the body-positivity/ self-love vortex. To put it simply, the body-positive movement encourages the idea that all bodies, regardless of shape, size, creed or denomination are good bodies. At first, it seemed like a space where I could find community, but what I found instead was an onslaught of misinformation and body ideals that reinforced my struggle with self-esteem and moved me further away from establishing truly healthy wellness practices.
Although the movement started within the BIPOC community it has since been heavily gentrified and diluted to uphold the very Euro-centric ideals it questioned.
In the book, The Body Liberation Project, written by activist and educator, Chrissy King, King summarises the contradictions perfectly.
“While the movement largely focuses on self-love, it largely fails to acknowledge that it’s much easier for some individuals to love themselves than for others. In a society in which certain bodies are deemed more beautiful, more worthy of dignity and respect, and honestly, more valuable, I would argue that body positivity shouldn’t just be about loving your body. It should be demanding justice for all bodies, especially the most marginalised. The intersection of race, gender, body politics, age, sexual orientation, and ability status are often left out of the conversation about body positivity.”
Within mainstream health and wellness culture, BIPOC communities are both over-analyzed and underserved. As a result, we struggle to find wellness communities that are relatable, well informed and safe for us to be a part of. In every gym experience, fad diet or wellness routine, what I found time and time again was an underlying bias and fundamental misunderstanding of diverse bodies.
I was tired. Tired of not appreciating the only body I would ever live in and tired of being told that loving myself was the key to change. No amount of self-love or body positivity would protect me from this reality.
Redefining wellness for myself and the black community with SoftLife
Self-love was not going to cut it, so I sought out my own definitions of what it meant to me to truly be well. In familiarising myself with the concepts of body positivity, body neutrality and body liberation I began confronting my disorders, unlearning my miseducation.
Verywell Mind defines body positivity as “having a positive view of your physical body, regardless of its shape, size, or other appearance-related attributes,” while defining body neutrality as being “different from body positivity in that it doesn't involve always loving your body but is more about being accepting of it… instead of concentrating on your physical appearance, with body neutrality, the focus is more on the body's abilities and non-physical characteristics.”
Educating myself on these concepts was helpful but as I searched for ways to heal my unhealthy relationship with food and redefine wellness for myself outside of an oppressive framework, neither managed to take into account the impact of my intersectionality.
This is where the body liberation comes in.
Body liberation is all about saying "no" to narrow beauty standards and "yes" to embracing the uniqueness of every body. It is a socio-political and philosophical concept that advocates for freedom from societal norms, expectations, and standards regarding body size, shape, appearance, and abilities. It challenges systems of oppression, such as racism, sexism, ableism, and sizeism, which continue to perpetuate harmful body standards and discrimination. Ultimately, body liberation seeks to create a more equitable and accepting society where all bodies are valued and respected.
Photo courtesy of The Brand Studio
Finding body liberation changed my life. While this is a daily effort, I recommit myself every day to making choices that are good for me.
I gave up on gym culture and shifted to lower-intensity at-home exercise that allows me to return to my body and heal my dysmorphia from the inside out. Feeling my body, its size and its power through yoga, pilates, body weight and low-intensity weight training allows me to experience the capabilities of my body without putting it through excessive pain or exertion. On good days, I have good days, and on challenging days I confront what is making me feel challenged while accepting and addressing my feelings.
Every day my practices dismantle pieces of toxicity I learned to accept as truths. Undergoing this internal transformation moved me to create a brand that encourages mental and physical wellness in the daily lives of Black and people of colour.
SoftLife Home & Apparel is inspired by the term "soft life" which originates from Nigerian pop culture. It exemplifies a lifestyle of comfort and relaxation with less stress, worry and concern, where you prioritize living your divine purpose.
We are rooted in promoting positive lifestyle practices for anyone who has struggled with being told that their pain is normal to their existence. We encourage the BIPOC community to return home to their bodies through meditation and movement.
Photo courtesy of The Brand Studio
My sole wish for SoftLife is for it to serve as a guiding light for our people to
prioritize honouring themselves, not to shrink or conform, but to be present and proud.
We launched on February 1st, 2024, with our opening collection of organic, coconut soy clean burning candles. SoftLife will expand to include wellness-centred home goods, spa wear and products, as well as inclusive athleisure clothing and equipment.
The journey to body liberation is a turbulent one but despite its challenges, it is a journey worth taking. To have the ability to transmute my pain and experience into a brand and platform that helps folks of colour create environments and practises to love on themselves is an experience more fulfilling than I could ever have imagined.
To the young Black girls who may read this and feel seen: Your body is divine, it is whole, it is perfect and above all - it is yours.
Photo courtesy of The Brand Studio
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