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A New York Times reporter recently called me, asking what I thought about a new study on bullying. The study found that being “fat” was the #1 reason why children were bullied—topping sexual orientation, race, religion, and disability, according to interviews with thousands of parents in four nations. "Does this surprise you?" she asked. I instantly answered "sadly, no." Teasing, mocking, insults, and even outright discrimination against overweight and obese people—whether young or old—is nothing new. As early as 1961, researchers found that elementary school children ranked an overweight child dead last, when asked how much they liked each of six children pictured—one overweight, four with different physical disabilities, and one healthy-weight child.
Taunts, bullying and ostracism hurt. Not only do chubby children suffer from poorer body image and lower self-esteem than their thinner classmates, the hurt can linger for decades. Even years after one sheds their baby fat, adults can struggle with the "phantom fat" that invades their psyche. Once-heavy adults often worry that they're just one extra cupcake away from obesity, and the image that reflects back to them in their bathroom mirror can be as distorted as a funhouse mirror.
"How can children be so cruel?" we might ask. The more important question is: how do otherwise thoughtful and sensitive adults unwittingly create a culture in which overweight kids are tormented at the playground (and overweight adults are made to feel uncomfortable in their own skin)?
We adopt a narrow view of health. Body weight is a tricky matter. Parents, teachers, doctors, and public health experts want America’s children to have a healthy body weight, recognizing that obesity increases our risk of every major health problem from diabetes to heart disease to sleep troubles to early death. Yet at the same time, how we feel about ourselves is an all-important marker of mental health. Constantly asking our full-figured loved ones "are you going to eat that?" when they reach for seconds, or even worse "are you going to wear that?" when they wear a form-fitting outfit probably won’t impel them to lose weight. But it will make them feel bad about themselves, and may even put a wedge into a your once-healthy relationship.
We view thinness as a mark of moral superiority. Sure, we’re proud of ourselves when we look good in our "skinny jeans," but why? Our pride comes not only from looking good but feeling that we are doing good by showing self-control in what we eat, and having the persistence to exercise off those extra calories. Some historians have argued that we’re now living in an era of ‘secular morality’—we don’t evaluate our moral worth through religious practices or beliefs anymore, rather we judge someone’s worth as a human being based on whether they lead a healthy lifestyle. Even if we don’t consciously articulate these beliefs, they may seep out unwittingly, perhaps by commenting that an overweight friend “lacks willpower” or using the words "fat" and "lazy" in the same breath.
But we need to remember that it’s a privilege (and not necessarily a mark of one’s moral fiber) to be able to afford healthy lo-cal foods, homes in safe neighborhoods with exercise-friendly parks, memberships at gyms, and flexible work schedules that allow us the time to cook healthy meals or train for that half-marathon. Biology, which we have no control over, also matters. Genes influence our metabolism and body shapes. Some new research even suggests that the "gut bacteria" that live in our digestive tracts play a role—including how we store fat and our tendencies to feel hungry or full. Being mindful of these powerful obstacles to slenderness, and stopping to challenge our own thoughts when we equate "thin" with "superior" are personal yet potentially powerful ways to stem weight stigma.
We go for the cheap (and easy) joke. Have you ever carelessly picked up an XXL t-shirt or 40DD bra at a department store, and loudly cracked jokes about the size of the garment? That’s exactly what a teenage girl and her mom did at Old Navy recently—chuckling that the two of them would fit into the one plus-size tank top: "that thing is huge," they laughed. The duo barely noticed that Rachel Taylor, herself a large woman, was in earshot and was humiliated and crushed by the conversation. Rachel got the last laugh, tweeting a selfie of her wearing the stars and stripe-bedecked tank top, and calling out her callous fellow shoppers. Rachel maintained her pride, yet also sent out a personal message: "Think about others before you speak." The person who overhears the fat jokes may be an impressionable and sensitive child—perhaps even your own.
So what can we do to make sure that children and adults are treated with dignity and respect, no matter what their shirt size? Offer support, not advice. My research on overweight people has taught me one important thing: heavy children (and adults) know they’re heavy. They know their weight may be unhealthy, and they know how weight gain happens: eating more calories than they burn off. Telling a child “that cookie will make you fat,” or casting a look of pity or disgust toward a full-figured person eating an ice cream cone in public isn't helping them. It’s hurting their feelings, and may even undermine their motivation to lose weight. What can work is eating healthy meals together, offering encouragement when they take their first steps to lose weight, or even offering assistance with childcare or housework so he or she can make time to exercise on their own. These efforts might not silence the schoolyard bully, but they may help someone near and dear to you reclaim their physical and emotional well-being.
