Who Am I To Do This? — a note from Sophia
A fat person standing on the beach, looking toward the water with their arms raised high into the air (photo by Lindley Ashline).
This fall I ran the first ever “Fat Joy” writing workshop.
As I clicked the blue zoom button that allowed the participants to join, I felt my nerves spike and my breath catch.
Who was I to bring this group together? What made me think I could hold the responsibility of caring for these souls? Did I make the right decision by only allowing fat people to take this workshop?
Suddenly, there they were, gathered in gallery-view — seven, self-identifying fat people looking back at me. The tears in my eyes mirrored by the tears in theirs.
It was a first for all of us. We were gathering because of our shared fat identities. We were reaching for the kind of community that only shared lived experience creates. We were finding the second language of embodied empathy, knowing smiles, and relatable tears.
Our purpose was clear: how do we find joy in an anti-fat world?
I’ve run a lot of magical and transcendent workshops at Firefly that I’m deeply grateful for… but this was extraordinary in a whole new way.
Those brave writers and I spent five weeks pushing away diet culture’s grip on our hearts and bodies. We got inspired by images of ancient fat statues. We cheered for rebellious poems and wrote our own manifestos that proudly proclaimed our rage and rejection of systemic discrimination.
In her book Emergent Strategy, adrienne maree brown writes:
“We are in an imagination battle. I often feel I’m trapped inside someone else’s imagination, and I must engage my own imagination in order to break free.”
I can’t help feeling that creativity, community — all the work we do at Firefly — are the “how.” This is how we create new imaginary paths to walk, new worlds to live in, and new ways to hold the parts of us that have been pushed out, silenced, and marginalized.
This is true whatever kind of world you’re dreaming of.
As we start this new year, what’s your imagination trying to grow? What’s the more beautiful version of this planet that you can see? What’s waiting to move from your heart to the world?
Gather with people who see you.
Make the stories you want to live inside of.
Stop asking, “Who am I to do this?”
There’s so much space for your voice, especially when you find the right people to help you hold it.
If you’re a fat person looking to create community and writing about finding joy and writing yourself into fat futures — good news! I’m running this workshop again, starting in January, and all the details are here. Please share!
And if you’re looking for another form of imagination and community, we have so much. Read on…
Winter workshops for folks looking to just... start
Begin Here and Keep Your Pen Moving are tender and wide-open spaces (5 and 8 weeks, respectively) for folks trying to kick-start or unearth their writing voice.
Winter workshops for folks who want to write about their lives
Your life is full of stories. Life Stories will support you to get six of them down, in detail. Brief Bursts will inspire you to write many more teeny-tiny short ones. And Exploring our Racialized Identities is a BIPOC-only space for writers to gather and explore their experiences as racialized people.
Winter workshops for folks who want to explore fiction
We have two workshops this winter for fiction writers. If you’re interested in short fiction, Tiny Worlds is for you, and for bigger, longer ideas, The Novel Writing Toolkit is finally back.
Winter workshops for folks who want to play with words and shapes
Sometimes we just want to play. The Word Play Workshop is back for a second round, in person this time, and Flight Paths is a super-creative space for folks who want to play with poetic forms.
Come spend a whole weekend with Asifa and me!
Asifa and I are hosting a stay-at-home writing retreat, the first we’ve offered in almost two years. This is an online deep-dive into writing, designed for both people with projects on the go, and for people who have no idea where to begin, but feel a tug. Let’s get cozy.
And a poem for you.
I’d like to share one of my favourite poems with you — “homage to my hips” — written by the brilliant Lucille Clifton.
Naturally, I can’t finish a Firefly newsletter without some word-nerdery.
So… did you know that the collective noun for joy is “glimmers”?
One joy is joy. Many joys are glimmers. I can’t get enough.
I felt so many glimmers in my Fat Joy class this fall, and I’m wishing you many more as you find ways to write your best world onto the page, gather with people who see you, and create the things you care about most.
Glimmering at you from here,
