They knew nothing of my determination to keep making my body into what i needed it to be - a safe harbor rather than a small, weak vessel that had betrayed me.” She also admits the irony of the situation: that her tall, big, black body takes up a lot of space, that she is scrutinized wherever she goes, made a spectacle. They had no idea at all about what created the problem. Speaking about her worried parents, she says “they tried to help without realizing my early weight gain was only the beginning of the problem my body would become. Gay reveals that gaining weight was her attempt at becoming invisible to the men who had hurt her.
They couldn’t be, or I wouldn’t have survived any of it.” “I ate and ate in the hopes that if I became big, my body would be safe.” I say “live in a fat body” because that is what Gay explains she did “for years on end.” She went through the world split in three, “There was me, and the woman I saw myself as while living inside my head, and the woman who had to carry my overweight body. She explains how her overeating became the response to her rape. Indeed, Gay goes on to tell how she was brutally raped by a boy she was seeing and his friends when she was 12 years old. I knew that Hunger would be a book about sexual assault and how it feels to be morbidly obese, to live in a fat body. I was unfamiliar with Gay’s work, except that she had become a feminist icon, hailed for her representation of queer women of color. Over Winter break, at the recommendation of a former Empower lab member, I had the pleasure of reading Roxane Gay’s latest, Hunger, A Memoir of (My) Body.