OP-ED: The People’s Ozempic: Thinness, White Supremacy, and Fascism

Ozempic has emerged as the latest symbol of society’s cultural obsession with thinness, fueled by TikTok trends and pharmaceutical quick fixes. Recently, discussions around thinness and fatphobia reached a boiling point after content creator Slim Kim shared her body preferences, unapologetically rooted in fatphobia. Listening to the debates surrounding the supposed preference for thinness, I began to challenge the idea that wanting to be thin is simply a personal choice. Thinness isn’t just a preference—it’s a status symbol that has shaped beauty standards and defined societal hierarchies.

While Ozempic is marketed as a diabetes drug, its widespread adoption as a weight-loss tool reveals something far more insidious: the enduring grip of fatphobia, a system deeply intertwined with white supremacy and fascism, perpetuating harmful ideals under the guise of health and preference.

The Roots of Fatphobia: A Racialized History

Fatphobia did not materialize out of thin air—it was cultivated to reinforce systems of white supremacy. Historians like Dr. Sabrina Strings, author of Fearing the Black Body: The Racial Origins of Fat Phobia, have traced the origins of fat stigma to 18th-century Europe and the United States. During this period, colonial pseudoscience weaponized body size as a means to differentiate Black women from white women, pathologizing larger Black bodies as undesirable, uncivilized, and inherently inferior.

Thinness, by contrast, became a marker of whiteness, morality, and social status. For white women, maintaining a thin figure was not just about beauty but a way to perform racial superiority. This belief system reinforced the idea that controlling one’s body—through diet, restriction, and self-discipline—was evidence of a higher moral character, aligning with the broader goals of white supremacy.

Thinness as a Status Symbol

Over time, thinness has transcended race, becoming a symbol of wealth and privilege across communities. For Black women, thinness now operates as a form of social capital, a means to navigate a world that polices Black bodies with even greater scrutiny. In spaces where thinness is equated with success, health, and desirability, Black women are pressured to conform to these standards, further erasing the rich diversity of body types within Black communities.

Ozempic’s rise in popularity underscores how thinness has evolved into a commodity, accessible primarily to those with financial privilege. It is a stark reminder that society equates thinness with better treatment—whether through greater access to opportunities, reduced medical bias, or societal validation. Thinness, much like wealth, has become a gatekeeper to social inclusion, reinforcing the divides between those who can afford to chase it and those who cannot.

Fatphobia, Fascism, and the Policing of Bodies

Fascism thrives on uniformity and control, and its relationship with body politics is no exception. Fatphobia aligns seamlessly with fascist ideologies by upholding rigid standards of what bodies should look like and who deserves full humanity. Fat bodies are cast as lazy, undisciplined, and undesirable—coded language that echoes broader societal disdain for those who deviate from white, patriarchal norms.

In fascist societies, the policing of bodies is both literal and symbolic. For example, eugenics movements often promoted “ideal” bodies as part of broader campaigns to engineer a “superior” race. Today, the cultural obsession with weight loss reflects these same fascist ideals, demanding conformity and punishing those who dare to exist outside the boundaries of acceptability.

Resistance Through Decolonization

Understanding the relationship between fatphobia, white supremacy, and fascism is essential to dismantling these systems of oppression. This work begins with decolonizing our perceptions of bodies and rejecting the myth that thinness is synonymous with worth.

Decolonization also means interrogating how these narratives infiltrate Black communities. How can we celebrate the fullness of Black bodies without succumbing to societal pressures that equate thinness with success? How do we create spaces where all body types are affirmed and valued, disrupting the harmful legacies of fatphobia?

As Black women, we must reclaim our bodies from these oppressive systems, choosing joy, liberation, and self-determination over conformity. The fight against fatphobia is not just about body positivity—it is a political act of resistance against white supremacy and fascism.

The rise of Ozempic as a “people’s drug” reveals the extent to which thinness continues to be a cultural obsession and a tool of oppression. By confronting the racialized history of fatphobia and its entanglement with white supremacy, we can begin to dismantle the systems that police our bodies and deny our humanity. True liberation comes when we refuse to let our worth be dictated by the size of our bodies, embracing instead the infinite ways in which we exist and thrive.