Consider this post a disruption in the mainstream conversation about who’s bodies we celebrate and who is allowed to take up space, because some people think that they own the whole world unless told otherwise. Consider this your notice… you don’t!

Most Americans are confused about their obsession with thiqueness…

Some claim not to love it, or even like it, until they need it, want it, see it on a “skinny girl” or a white girl, or a Kardashian…

Bodies, big, round, curvaceous, voluptuous, fertile, filling, tempting, tantalizing, big, bigger, biggest, brown, dark, brown, Black, charcoal, deep, never-ending roundness folds, curves, and marks on flesh that stretch and fold and hold life, and hold death and hold moisture and softness and strength.Marks that rip across dark skin like lightening, or tiger stripes, or like love and pain and growth and shrinkage.

But what exactly is “thiqueness,” and why does it hold such sway over our perceptions of beauty? 

From the fertile curves of a mother’s belly to the tantalizing allure of soft, supple flesh, each mark and fold tells a story of resilience, of growth, and of the inherent beauty of being and birthing and growing and shedding and gaining. 

Yet, alongside this celebration of diversity, there exists a darker undercurrent – one rooted in centuries of oppression and marginalization. For Black bodies, in particular, the experience of otherness is deeply ingrained, with their very existence often deemed “strange, odd, and deviant” by mainstream society. And for those whose bodies do not conform to traditional beauty standards – those deemed “big” or “bigger” – the experience can be doubly fraught, with public shaming juxtaposed against private admiration.

Blackness, with its deep, absorbing richness, is not the opposite of whiteness but rather a unique expression of humanity’s infinite diversity. And “thickness,” far from being a one-size-fits-all concept, encompasses a spectrum of shapes and sizes, each deserving of recognition and respect.