Fat Black Nudity: the disruptive force behind Instagram changing its policies
Fat Black women are continuously being censored by Instagram. Most of the time, it’s on the basis of nudity, and whilst the same happens to fat white influencers, it should be noted that there remains a disparity in the way individual cases have been handled, with the lengthy efforts of Black women’s work being sidelined for that of their white counterparts.
Nyome Nicholas Williams, a fat Black model who has been repeatedly censored by Instagram, commented that, ‘there is a racial bias against Black women on Instagram, especially those that are visibly plus sized and confident in that fact.’ When Nyome found herself being censored in 2020, she decided to counterattack and was featured in a Guardian article on the topic of Instagram censorship and racial bias. The result was a more vocal push back against Instagram, with other Black influencers coming forward with their own stories of censorship. Nyome is just one example of many fat Black women who have been censored by social media platforms like Instagram.
Despite Nyome gaining career footholds with well known agencies like Nev and gracing the cover of booklets from brands like Cult Beauty, there still remains a struggle for fat Black women to carve out authentic spaces within these gatekept industries. The mainstream acceptance of Nyome does not override the ways in which fat women are exploited for ‘body-diversity’, while still facing the double-standards of acceptance and censorship which platforms like Instagram traffic in.
I spoke with Margie, pictured below, a mental health and body positivity advocate who has also experienced censorship on Instagram for nudity. We spoke about censorship and the importance of drawing attention to how fat Black women constantly push to widen the gap from commodification towards genuine expression.
Margie paints and photographs her own body, processes which she says can make you “face the reality of your body.” Margie highlighted that “seeing representations of your body, outside of yourself, could well lead to body positivity if handled in the right way.”
Platforms like Instagram don’t have to be toxic, but the subject of whether body positivity has a place on Instagram was a difficult one to consider. In Margie’s opinion, “you can reconcile the two [Instagram and body positivity] but only to a limited extent.” She added that Instagram favours slimmer white bodies, “Black women can post on Instagram, but only if they conform to the ways in which the algorithm believes that people want to see Black women’s bodies. A fat Black woman is not allowed to show her body because of the inherent fatphobia and racism displayed by the algorithm. The body of this woman doesn’t fit the standard. Black women must be slim, athletic, they must go above and beyond the standards of beauty because they are already outside of those standards to begin with.”
When I asked Margie if she believed that Black women were forced to sexualise themselves in ways on Instagram that appealed to racist tropes surrounding Black women’s sexualities, she replied that “it comes back to the viewer and shouldn’t necessarily be the responsibility of the artist,” that is, it is about how the image is viewed rather than any intent on the part of the person who posted the image.
One image of Nyome, shown below, was censored because of the way that it was perceived, rather than what it actually portrays. The photo shows Nyome sitting on a stool, naked from the waist up, covering her upper body with her arms. However, despite the many white influencers posing in similar ways, it was Nyome’s picture that was taken down. To be fat and confident, to flaunt a body deemed generally unattractive, goes against societal protocols of fatphobia. There is something outrageous about a Black woman enjoying herself and her nudity.
Why do we post pictures of ourselves on Instagram in the first place? For recognition, community, approbation? As Black women, of every shape and size, perhaps it is time to call into question the platforms that we choose to share ourselves with. I asked Margie why she does, if she posted them for anyone in particular or if they were simply for herself. “In part, I’d say it is for me, but a lot of it also comes down to: I don’t always see myself that way. So, I made a choice to put myself out there, so that other people who look like me can feel at ease and comfortable with their bodies.
This begs the question: do platforms like Instagram make us feel comfortable in our bodies? Their backing down over the censorship of Nyome, who was censored several times, does not seem to indicate a genuine change of mentality. It indicates a desire to make the issue go away. Despite their various attempts to appear inclusive, Instagram has repeatedly proved itself condemnable. Bottom line: they should not be allowed to profit off of Black womens’ presence on their platform if they do not do more to prove their respect for them.