Tag a friend’ memes are the rage on Facebook this week. Sigh. This isn’t the fi rst time that they are appearing, nor will it be the last — unless of course we are nuked in the next week (a high possibility, says Facebook). These memes that are shared thousands of times and receive countless comments usually feature a dark-skinned, plus-size woman with a tagline ‘Tag a friend who would marry her’. Shielded by the anonymity of their virtual profi les, people who we’ll be surprised to fi nd are a lot like us, unabashedly bring their most racist, sexist selves to light, taking a dig at the woman in question, and saying nasty things for a quick laugh.
And I say ‘People like us’ because underneath the niceties we possess, we all to an extent seem to hold on to the notions of fat as undesirable and fat bodies as objects of mockery. One of the memes features award winning actress Gabourey Sidibe, and the comments on it is case in point. The thing about body-shaming is that it’s not a phenomenon or produce of social media. It began long ago, ever since humans became a thing. Everything that was not the ideal (and it changes once in a while) was targeted, mocked and shamed for not fi tting into the narrow ideal framework. And body-shaming is everywhere — in our heads, our homes, and our humour.
It also comes in several forms — of concern, cringe, and compliment. No, body shaming is not a female thing — anyone can be a victim, and the pressures of attaining the ideal body are evident in all kinds of people. Body-shaming has just as much to do with ageing, features, skin colour and ethnicity as it does with size. As much as media is now beginning to take notice of body positivity and inclusivity seriously, movies, magazines and other media still happen to be the largest enforcers of body and beauty stereotypes. Tamil Cinema has been no kinder in its portrayal of different body shapes and sizes.
First, there’s the look for the main parts: Heroes need to be tall, dark and fi ll the screen; heroines to be petite, fair and show some skin. And there are the exceptions, several among the heroes — the lanky Dhanush, greying Ajith, paunchy Vijay Sethupathi, and the balding you-knowwho, who are just as revered and beloved as any of the others. The exceptions are in fact the superstars of the day, but a plump Vishal or Vijay would never be accepted today in a way actors Prabhu or Vijayakanth were years ago. Among the heroines, while we are now more accommodating of dusky skin, we have not one gundu ponnu or dhimsu kattai among the leading ladies anymore.
Even those who were chubby have shed the kilos to be accepted. While ‘salt and pepper’ is the new mantra for Tamil men, we don’t have a ‘goingnatural’ heroine, so well, women hair dye sales are still sky rocketing. We also don’t have heroines who need plus-size clothing, unless they are in a movie that addresses fatness and acceptance as issues. In comedy, body shaming is at its worst — and it’s a pretty new thing.
Body shaming in comedy started with the Senthil-Goundamani jokes is my guess. We have occasionally seen thin people made fun-of, but off late, we are seeing more of the fat comedian trope, both male and female are cartoons who have exaggerated attempts to woo the leads. Before ‘Fat comedy’ becomes a fi xture, we should realise that just being fat doesn’t not make for funny, and comedy doesn’t come in sizes. Fat by no means should limit an actor, because talent and skill are limitless. It’ll be a tragedy for cinema if we don’t realise soon that fat comedy is just being lazy.
(The writer is a city-based activist, in-your-face feminist and a media glutton)