21st Century Black Woman

Black Women’s Bodies Commodified and then Disposed?

One morning in August 2014, I rose from my teenage slumber and headed to Instagram. I was met with standard mirror pictures, “tbh” posts from the night before, and funny instagram videos. As I continued scrolling my feed, I was taken aback by the image plastered across my iPhone 4 screen. Nicki Minaj’s photo for her single, “Anaconda”, appeared. She sported a silk press, blue and pink jordans, a pink bra, and the attention grabber; a matching pink thong. She was crouched down in a “spread eagle” position, with her back facing the camera and sultry gaze over her shoulder. Up until this point, I had never seen a display of sexuality to this degree on social media before. At least, not from a mainstream celebrity. The next thing I know, my timeline was flooded with everyone reposting this picture. It was inescapable. The Barbs were raving about it, the women were shocked, and the heterosexual men were…happy (for lack of a better word).  

Minaj’s cosmetically enhanced body was the pinnacle of desirability during this time: a slim body, an even slimmer waist, and a huge booty. I remember how the BBL (Brazilian Butt Lift) craze picked up soon after. Every celebrity magically achieved this hourglass physique. All the Instagram baddies flaunted their curvaceous figure through various thirst traps, attracting the most eligible bachelors at that time. Fitness influencers promised to help women achieve this desirable frame through squats and weight training. Advertisements for flat tummy teas, to pair with your large butt and thick thighs, were rampant across social media. I remember comparing myself to the curvy women on my timeline, hoping to look like them one day. Hoping to finally be at the center of desirability. As the decade persisted, BBLs began to appear more exaggerated. It seemed as if “ slim thick” was going to be the new standard to strive for for all eternity.  Then suddenly, whispers of a new drug that assisted in weight loss spread like wildfire in the entertainment industry and social media. Ozempic was here.

Trends are known to evolve with each changing decade. Style and beauty standards from past decades are also commonly incorporated into the current landscape. The fads from the early 2000’s are becoming intertwined with the style of today. And just like the early 2000’s, the sensationalism of “coke skinny” is slowly rearing its ugly head once more. First accounts from Gen X and Millennial women warn of this decade being unkind toward curvy and plus size women. During the BBL phenomenon, many black women voiced their frustration with non black celebrities using the archetype of black female bodies. While I shared in this frustration, I knew it was just a matter of time before we were disposed of. I figured that the masses would get bored of utilizing our aesthetic and revert back to a different one; an aesthetic associated with mostly white women. Slowly, celebrities and public figures are losing weight overnight. The Kardashians, most notably, are removing their BBLs, tans, and other body modifications to fit into the changing beauty standard. And as fast as this new trend is occurring, so is the disgust for curvy and plus size bodies in mainstream media. And as usual, black women are bearing the brunt of this. 

Even though BBLs were popular, black women with natural curves were also taking the main stage to desirability. I wanted to live in a world where plus size and curvy women could have the space to feel confident alongside their skinnier peers. However, this new drug has halted any progress that could have been made. Desirability is meant to be elusive. The ever changing standards render it nearly impossible to obtain true beauty according to the masses. Black women maintained a space completely opposite of mainstream European beauty standards for centuries. This new found love and admiration for our figure was jarring. Achieving and maintaining a smaller build was the goal for many women decades before. I remember watching movies like Bring It On, where white women had a meltdown if someone mentioned that their butt was “too big.” In the late 2010’s, it was the complete opposite. Non black women desperately wanted to fit into the new fad. But that’s exactly all they saw it as: a fad. 

To my knowledge, being curvy was never looked down upon within the black community. Various 90’s and early 2000’s black video vixens were viewed as the pinnacle of beauty and sex appeal within black spaces. However, the curvy women being represented in their music videos were usually on the outskirts of mainstream media. Black culture seemed to have its own slot within entertainment, apart from its white counterpart. Now, with the rise of social media, black culture has become infused with popular culture of today. Whether it’s recognized or not, black people are the trailblazers for many trends currently. Strangely enough, during the BBL craze, many black women around me felt dissatisfied with their own bodies. As I mentioned earlier, the enhancement many women were getting was greatly exaggerated. As time progressed in the 2010’s, the proportions of BBLs ceased to look naturally achievable. The curvier, the better. The same women they took inspiration from were beginning to feel overlooked within the beauty hierarchy. We were once the focal point of curvaceous bodies. Suddenly, we were on the outskirts of pop culture. Non black elites began taking center stage. During the early stages of this craze, only well established and rich women seemed to be able to afford these procedures. However, as time marched on, more and more regular women have obtained these body modifications. A regular working class black woman had the same opportunity to change her body the way a Kardashian had. Because of a mixture of racism and elitism in the beauty industry, we are witnessing the pivot back to skinny.

There is a stark difference in the way non black women versus black women are received in the media. Admittedly, 2020’s media is still more inclusive than that of the early 2000’s. However, fashion and mainstream media still lean toward showcasing white or racially ambiguous women. The race to desirability is something most women are familiar with partaking in. The feminine ideal is constantly shifting from one image to another. Black women being considered the furthest thing from the ideal has been a point of contention for decades, centuries even. I don’t want to end this blog post with the standard: “Black women need to accept ourselves the way we are.” Many of us accept ourselves, others are dissatisfied. How can we ignore the sort of social privileges that come from being considered beautiful? The constant fight to fit into beauty standards can be toxic and bleak. Many people ridiculed women for getting BBL’s during the late 2010’s. Those same people would bully women who didn’t fit the standard of being “slim thick.” Women’s bodies are constantly the topic of discussion, being inspected from every angle. I’d argue black women’s looks are policed the most in western society. With the rise of social media, the privilege of being considered desirable is constantly in our faces. It’s frustrating watching others co-opt our aesthetics and then exclude us from opportunities in the beauty industry. It is even more frustrating watching non black women shed this aesthetic to fit back in with “higher society.” Black women who are not palpable to the white gaze, are left out altogether. It would be nice acknowledge trends we set and had followed for a decade. Instead, they picked out which parts they wanted to try on. They donned the latest garments inspired by the influencers that were inspired by an “unknown” source. Now, they’ve decided to return that same finery, without ever acknowledging the source they bought it from, and how much it cost from whom they stole.