Let’s get one thing straight: this 'body positivity' is dangerous. You heard me right. Dangerous. And no, I’m not talking about that feel-good, empowering kind of danger. I mean the kind that sneaks up on you while you’re smiling at yourself in the mirror, chanting 'I love my body just the way it is' as you reach for another burger the size of your head.
We’re talking about a culture that has taken body positivity and twisted it into something that encourages people to normalize unhealthy lifestyles. You’re unhealthy? No problem. You can’t walk up a flight of stairs without gasping for air? No worries. 'Love yourself.'
But let’s face it – 'love yourself' has become a get-out-of-health-free card. We’re not promoting self-love anymore. We’re promoting self-sabotage. I should know. I was once that person too.
Back in grade 6, I was fat. Not fluffy, not chubby – FAT. I couldn’t run, couldn’t think straight, couldn’t even breathe properly. My dad? He was brutal. He would say things like, 'You’re so fat, you look like you ate the whole world.' Yeah, it hurt. A lot. But guess what? It was exactly what I needed. Those words that broke me down also built me up – into someone healthier, stronger, and no longer gasping for air after climbing a single staircase.
Now, let’s talk about these so-called 'role models' in the ASMR community – people who made a living out of eating themselves to death, literally. Remember Efecan Kultur? Just 24 years old. Dead after months of breathing difficulties and bruising from his own weight. Or that unnamed Chinese mukbang star who devoured 10 kilograms of food on camera – and then died of a heart attack at age 20. Then there’s the Filipino YouTuber, also in his 20s, who had half a million followers watching him stuff his face. He died the day after filming another 'eating show.'
What’s the common thread here? These people were lauded, celebrated even, for eating themselves into an early grave. And the comments? 'Yas queen! Love your body! Keep slaying!' Keep slaying? No, they were being slayed – by their own choices and by a culture that told them it was okay to keep going.
I can’t stay silent anymore. This isn’t body positivity. This is body poisoning. And if we don’t snap out of it, we’re going to end up with more people being buried under the weight of 'self-love.'
African parents? Oh, they’re brutal, alright. But sometimes, that brutality saves lives. If my dad hadn’t called me out, I’d probably still be waddling around, out of breath and on the brink of diabetes. Yeah, his words hurt – but they also healed.
So, what’s the takeaway? Sometimes the hardest words to hear are the ones that actually save us. It’s time we stop sugarcoating self-destruction and start serving up some hard truths – with a side of reality check.
Because sometimes, 'I love myself just the way I am' is the most dangerous lie we can tell ourselves.
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