JuniperFalls
kiwifarms.net
- Joined
- Nov 9, 2018
I recognize that name. The writer of that article is Da'Shaun Harrison, who is a personal friend of Ashleigh Shackleford, and his admirers include not just Corissa and Juliana but Jude Valentin. I know I said something about him here before, so I searched my previous posts for his name.
November 2020: Jude retweets Da'Shaun complaining about thin people who buy clothes made for fat people.
June 2021: Jude retweets an announcement that Da'Shaun is going to be on a podcast to talk about "deconstructing HAES and reimagine 'health'."
A couple days later, on Instagram, Juliana posted a screenshot of another one of Da'Shaun's tweets: "i'm working through all of these thoughts & questions in my book. it's time we move away from "fat people can be healthy too," and it's even time we move away from "health doesn't determine your right to live." it's time we understand that health was only created for some".
This all happened less than a month after Da'Shaun was mentioned in an LA Times article called "Fat Shaming, BMI and alienation: COVID-19 brought new stigma to large-sized people."
Osborn took the helm in January, as she was recovering from COVID-19. She and the NAAFA board are focused on “creating a more inclusive fat community.” They also are addressing the impact of COVID-19 on people of size.
The webinar tackled “Diet Culture and Fat Shaming in the Age of the Coronavirus,” and there was way too much to talk about — including the embrace of a three-letter word most of the world still views as a slur.
“I started to think almost immediately about what it would look like for me as a fat Black person,” said panelist Da’Shaun L. Harrison, whose exploration of race and weight, “The Belly of the Beast: The Politics of Anti-Fatness as Anti-Blackness,” will be published in August.
“I know how the medical industry engages people who look like me,” Harrison said, “who show up with bodies like mine, with skin like mine, right?”
Harrison knew because of a lifetime of interactions with doctors who looked at the body before them and wanted to treat weight instead of asthma or gastrointestinal distress, who celebrated Harrison’s weight loss as a child instead of addressing the illness that caused it.
“Especially as a kid, it was very damaging for me,” Harrison said. “It set a precedent for me that it didn’t matter how good I did or did not feel in my body. What mattered was if I was thin.”
The 24-year-old showed up in an ambulance at an Atlanta emergency room in the heart of the pandemic: a fat, black nonbinary person who uses the pronouns “they” and “them,” with a cough and chest pains, who hadn’t slept and had trouble breathing.
Harrison had just been lifted out of the ambulance. They were lying on a stretcher in the early morning darkness, terrified they had COVID-19 and could die, fearful of what would happen to them once inside the hospital walls. A male nurse walked up.
“Wow, you’re so big,” he said to Harrison by way of introduction. “The first thing we need to do is get this weight off you.”
The webinar tackled “Diet Culture and Fat Shaming in the Age of the Coronavirus,” and there was way too much to talk about — including the embrace of a three-letter word most of the world still views as a slur.
“I started to think almost immediately about what it would look like for me as a fat Black person,” said panelist Da’Shaun L. Harrison, whose exploration of race and weight, “The Belly of the Beast: The Politics of Anti-Fatness as Anti-Blackness,” will be published in August.
“I know how the medical industry engages people who look like me,” Harrison said, “who show up with bodies like mine, with skin like mine, right?”
Harrison knew because of a lifetime of interactions with doctors who looked at the body before them and wanted to treat weight instead of asthma or gastrointestinal distress, who celebrated Harrison’s weight loss as a child instead of addressing the illness that caused it.
“Especially as a kid, it was very damaging for me,” Harrison said. “It set a precedent for me that it didn’t matter how good I did or did not feel in my body. What mattered was if I was thin.”
The 24-year-old showed up in an ambulance at an Atlanta emergency room in the heart of the pandemic: a fat, black nonbinary person who uses the pronouns “they” and “them,” with a cough and chest pains, who hadn’t slept and had trouble breathing.
Harrison had just been lifted out of the ambulance. They were lying on a stretcher in the early morning darkness, terrified they had COVID-19 and could die, fearful of what would happen to them once inside the hospital walls. A male nurse walked up.
“Wow, you’re so big,” he said to Harrison by way of introduction. “The first thing we need to do is get this weight off you.”
Tl; dr for the spoiler: He was only 24 years old, and one night at the height of the pandemic he had to be carried into an emergency room on a stretcher because he had coughing, chest pains, and difficulty breathing, From his perspective, the worst thing about the whole ordeal was when a male nurse walked up to him and said "Wow, you’re so big. The first thing we need to do is get this weight off you.” Also, he wrote a book called "The Belly of the Beast: The Politics of Anti-Fatness as Anti-Blackness," which is probably how the LA Times heard of him even though he lives in Atlanta.
He doesn't have a thread here, but he could probably support one.
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