As everyone who is simultaneously immersed in the dual fantasy worlds of comic books and social justice knows, there are very few morbidly obese superheroes. This is obviously problematic. Period. End of discussion. Point, set, match. It’s settled science, and all opposing viewpoints have been debunked and discredited. Wow—just wow. SMH. No turning back. Do not pass “GO,” do not collect $200. I mean, why are we even having this discussion in this day and age? Y’all knuckle-dragging Neanderthals are on the wrong side of history if you disagree.
In other words—we don’t only need superheroes who tackle heavy problems—we need more heavy superheroes to do the tackling.
Are the haters trying to say that fat people are completely incapable of fighting the good fight and saving other human beings? OK, they may get tired about thirty seconds into fighting the good fight—I’ll grant you that—but as long as it doesn’t require running more than a city block, everyone knows they are perfectly capable of saving other human beings unless they accidentally fall on them.
A 5’7″, 240-pound woman who calls herself “Miz Caramel Vixen” does things such as allowing herself to be filmed as she crushes toy cars in her bare feet. This video was from 2011, when she only tipped the scales at 235:
Miz Caramel also appears to make money via “interracial humiliation,” which apparently has something to do with the National Basketball Association. But it only took one humble trip to a seemingly innocent comic-book convention to turn the humiliator into the humiliated.
TRIGGER WARNING if you’re easily upset—she was recently made to feel “humiliated” while attending Special Edition NYC, where comic-book fans of all shapes, sizes, colors, smells, and sexual preferences congregate to celebrate that special part of their childhood of which they were never quite able to let go.
Miz Vixen writes of how “excited” she had been to attend the event and notes that when she arrived, there were “cosplay attendees” joyously flaunting all manner of public indecency: “skimpy outfits, pasties, thongs, exploding boobs and more. … The exhibitor tables displayed characters with monstrous breasts, body parts exposed, even genitals. …” By contrast, her “costume” seemed rather benign: “Deadpool cardigan, black tank top underneath, black boy shorts, thigh high fishnets and a black mini skirt.”
However, as she was filling out the event’s registration form, an event staff member took her aside and harshly warned her that the event was “a family friendly show and kids are here.” He allegedly scolded her for wearing attire that wasn’t “proper.” She told him that there were others—far thinner specimens, sure—who were wearing far more suggestive attire, but he didn’t care. He apparently lied and told her that they’d all been warned, too. She didn’t buy it:
Feelings of embarrassment and shame started to overwhelm me. I was choking back tears since I was not understanding why I’ve been singled out. What the hell was wrong with what I had on? … I am a beautiful plus size woman of color – but at that moment, all I wanted to do was to run away, find a corner, bury my head in the sand and cry.
But she didn’t do that. Instead she did what any right-thinking plus-sized cosplaying woman of color who’d been invisibly fat-shamed would do—she went on Twitter and started shaming the convention organizers. You see, the problem isn’t that shaming itself is juvenile—it’s that you have to shame people for the right cause. The organizers, duly shamed and horrified, apologized to her. They even went one step further—they gave her coupons for a free T-shirt (a plus-sized one, we can only hope) and a pint glass, which she gave to her writer friend, possibly to keep herself away from imbibing high-calorie beverages.
Still, this wasn’t enough. She still felt humiliated:
The pain it caused me I can barely describe without breaking into tears. To be honest, I am still emotional as I write this article.
To be honest, I felt so much emotion and pain reading her article, I nearly broke into tears, too. I have no doubt in my mind that Miz Caramel Vixen is a strong, proud, young, empowered, assertive, intelligent, comic-book fan of color. For Christ’s sake, people, this isn’t the Jim Crow South—she should be invited, welcomed, embraced, and even tongue-kissed for celebrating her true self, because after all, that’s what wearing costumes is all about.