Body Image

I wrote this essay the first semester of my freshman year in my writing seminar titled “Concepts of Fat.” It was subsequently published in the Fall 2009 issue of 3808: A Journal of Critical Writing and the Spring 2010 issue of F-Word, Penn’s undergraduate feminist literary magazine.

Concepts of Fat

I put down the empty bowl of rice, the result of eating voraciously for half an hour. My stomach, feeling as though it might burst, has consumed half a dozen types of kimchi, bean-paste stew, deep-fried pork, and rice. As I rise from the table to put my dishes in the sink, my mother stares at me with concern. She says, “I wish you would eat more. You are so skinny.” I wish I could eat more to please my mother, but I am unable to because I am so full. To my mother, my skinniness represents a tacit failure to “fatten” me up. In Korea, it seems, in order to be a “proper” mother, one's son must be plump. Yet my mother expects the opposite from my sister, and therefore treats her differently. Concepts of fat, particularly those in Korean culture, marry the two worlds of gender roles and ideal body images.

I understand that if I eat more I will gain weight and please my mother, but I am seldom tempted to follow that line of thinking. A tennis player in high school, I had a fast metabolism and felt I was at a healthy weight. Still, my mother would urge me to copious amounts of food at the dinner table, in an attempt to make me gain weight. I suspected my gaining weight would not only validate her culinary skills, but also affirm her adequacy as a homemaker. A fat son, to a Korean mother, symbolizes her ability to spoil her favorite offspring; he reflects the wealth of the family. As I was on my way out of the house, my mother would often say, “People will think I don't feed you well.”

From my sister she expects the opposite: a slimmer figure. The word for “fat” in Korean is “sal,” which can also be translated as “flesh.” In describing my sister, this seems to be my mother’s favorite word. During one dinner, my mother eyed my sister’s plate, saying, “Sal jil gguh ya,” meaning “you’ll get fat.” Another day she commented, “I wish I could take some of your sister’s fat and put it on you.” I remember feeling sorry for my sister and angry at the cultural expectations that surround body image. It is after all, not my sister’s fault. I view the problem as more societal than individual. Society is truly to blame for creating a single ideal body image, when human beings come in different shapes and sizes. Yet the inability to be “perfect” is answered with reprimands, exemplified by my mother’s comments. My mother, raised in a traditional Korean household, has an idea of what she wants her children to look like because this was the image deemed positive during her upbringing. Such reprimands go hand in hand with her concept of motherhood; body image is always an undercurrent of discussion between my grandmother and my mother during their phone conversations. Although my father is mostly oblivious, the brunt of the attack occurs within the home.

There is a particularly strong emphasis of gender roles in Korean culture. Males are compelled into becoming the breadwinners, and the women, although they have the freedom to take on a profession, are encouraged to stay at home, take care of the kids, and cook well. This reliance on gender for the division of labor is also reflected in subtle ways; while I would go outside to complete my chores (water and garden our yard), my mother and sister would do housework. Gender determines what we can and cannot do. This is why I have never taken my mother seriously when she claims I am too skinny. Rather than promoting freedom, gender and body image both constrict my sister and me, especially in a Korean cultural context.

I am saddened that the pressure on my sister is doubled: not only is she expected to fulfill an ideal body image, but she is also expected to take on the role of Korean female. I enjoy the freedom of being expected to join the workforce—I am able to choose my role. I learned much from witnessing inequality in my household—it provided me with a window through which I can pinpoint areas of inequity in Western culture as well. The key to undoing our preconceived concepts of fat and body image lies also in undoing the cultural and social expectations that gender brings. A “fat” male for example, has a different societal meaning from a “fat” female; one is more vehemently ostracized in American society. The definite untangling of “fat” and “gender” is not as easy as it sounds. They must be tackled simultaneously for both are consequences of a larger societal problem: the unwarranted assault on a person's character based on their physical appearance.