Anna Dushime: I also find that it depends on the community. Growing up in a small town in Germany, I was always made fun of because of my “African booty.” Kids used to call me “Fettarsch,” which is the equivalent of “fat ass” in English. When I told my mom, she would tell me that I have a Rwandan body and there is nothing to be ashamed of (thanks, Mama). In my family we still say “Rwandan legs” and mean a certain (thicker) shape that Rwandans appreciate, but is not sought after in Germany. So, my body type was made fun of in one community and praised in another, which was a weird experience. But I do find that there is a lot more chatter of dieting and working out in Rwanda now than there was before I moved to Germany in 1999.

Hannah Giorgis: That’s so interesting, Anna. Because Ethiopia in particular was and is associated with famine in the Western imagination, I grew up hearing things like “you look too well-fed to be Ethiopian” from Americans. That perception of the country has shifted a bit in recent years, but in my experience there is definitely a way Americans expect African bodies to look: slender, gaunt, malnourished — and I’ve never been that. But Ethiopian people, especially older women, often speak very candidly about bodies, too. I’ve always had aunts comment on my weight, when I’d gained some, or whether I looked more “grown” than the last time they’d seen me. Sometimes it’s the first thing they say when they see me.

Alanna Bennett: I grew up in Southeast Portland, Oregon, so black bodies were, to put it frankly, just not around that much. I was also raised by the white side of my family, so in the community around me, I was often the only one. When black bodies were discussed, it was often in the context of famous black people in movies or music, or violence against the black body that was making national news. My community as I’ve settled into adulthood has shifted to include far more people of color and therefore much more nuanced discussions of the black body.

