If you’re subscribed to the Nonbinarian newsletter, you may have read this piece about fat representation in books and how rare it is to find fat characters who aren’t written about with absolute disgust.

Representation is only one step toward liberation, but it’s a big one. When we see ourselves in media and feel good about the way we’re depicted, it directly impacts our self esteem and boosts our ability to speak up for our needs and our rights.

When did you first encounter fatness in literature? How did it make you feel?

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It's Fat Liberation Month and I Want More Fat Stories—Now!

Originally published in The Nonbinarian Newsletter, August 2025

The first time I encountered a fat character in books, it was the child who devours the chocolate cake in Roald Dahl's Matilda. I still remember how it felt to watch the scene in the 1996 movie adaptation: how delicious the cake looked paired with how gross that young actor playing Bruce Bogtrotter looked as he covered himself in it, licking the plate as Miss Trunchbull forced him to finish every crumb in front of his peers.

Although I was too young to know it then, this character and this scene made a lasting impression on me. Every time one of my peers sneered at me about my size, my appetite, my clothes, or the amount of space I claimed just by existing in my fat body, I thought about Bruce. The chocolate cake. How vindictive Miss Trunchbull looked as a fat child suffered humiliation at her hands—the kind of humiliation she likely experienced herself as a fat child. For a long time, I feared eating dessert in front of people because of how I thought it would make me look: Just. Like. Him.

For someone like Trunchbull, who abuses children with glee, the scene where she forces Bruce to eat the cake is particularly disturbing. He stole a single slice of her dessert, not because he couldn't or didn't want to eat more—even if he's mostly motivated by spite, he's also content to devour the rest of the cake—but because he didn't want to get caught. Because he was trying to restrain himself. Trunchbull removes the restraints and takes a perverse kind of pleasure in the show, not just because now she can punish Bruce even more harshly, but because he's demonstrated that he's a more ill-behaved fatty than her. Adulthood has left the room. Anti-fatness, shame, and false morality have taken the stage.

Anti-fatness is instilled in us from a young age and unlearning it often takes years. It's worth noting that by the time I encountered Bruce in Matilda, I had already asked my grandmother to call multiple weight-loss services after seeing infomercials on TV and watching Oprah espouse the benefits of Weight Watchers. I was three years old the first time I tried to dial one of those 800 numbers. If you know a fat person, they likely have stories just like these. More often than not, we are taught by even the most unlikely sources to shrink and keep shrinking.

Unfortunately, books might be some of the worst purveyors of anti-fat rhetoric—especially the ones that win acclaim and prestige.

In 2024, Housemates author Emma Copley Eisenberg said it quite plainly for The New Republic: "Fatphobia, which many understand to be part of the larger issue of ableism, may be the supposedly liberal literary world’s least discussed form of hate, oppression, and discrimination."

Not only are fat characters (especially ones who aren't written as disgusting, unlovable, selfish creatures little better than monsters) few and far between, but fat people in publishing itself are a rarity—especially at traditional brands. Eisenberg does an excellent job breaking down the numbers in her article, which posits a seemingly simple solution: give fat authors, editors, agents, illustrators, and professionals more opportunities to tell fat stories of all stripes.

Like Eisenberg and other fat people and our allies in the publishing space, I want to read and write and hear these stories. I want abundance in fiction, nonfiction, graphic novels, poetry; and as much as I love how fat-positive adult romance has grown to be in recent years, I want to see fat characters in every single genre on the shelves at my local indie bookstore—particularly sci-fi, fantasy, and horror, which are spaces where fatness is particularly despised as a so-called moral failing.

But fatness isn't a problem to be solved. Despite well-funded claims made by the multi-billion-dollar diet industry that its product, "skinny," is the must-have for everyone, everywhere, forever, fat people have and do and will continue to exist. Fat people deserve to be treated like people. And fat people deserve to see themselves on the shelf, just like everyone else.

Particularly in the so-called "Ozempic Era," as formerly fat influencers and other public figures shed pounds to keep up with beauty trends, abandoning the pro-fat ethos they once espoused to the tune of thousands of followers, brand sponsorships, and endorsements, fat representation that isn't rooted in repulsion is more important than ever. Rather than turning away from the fat liberation movement and fat-positive content, publishing would do itself a favor to embrace fat liberation and invite in more fat creatives.

Earlier this year, I debuted a new project in the hopes of not just celebrating books by fat authors, about fat experiences, and featuring fat characters, but eventually publishing more fat books, too. For my birthday in May, I took inspiration from Nonbinarian founder K. Kerimian and launched Fat Forward Books, a bookish community under the Bindery banner that highlights fatness in publishing.

In addition to exclusive author interviews, book reviews and recommendations, giveaways, a community Discord server, and a monthly, virtual book club, Fat Forward will soon offer guest posts by industry professionals, panel discussions, and even merch (!)—all to highlight how much demand there is for fat stories in the books we read. If you’re just learning about Fat Forward Books, I would be so grateful if you subscribed to the page (for free!) and told your circles about it.

And if you’re just learning about the egregious anti-fatness problem in publishing, you’re not alone. Books aren’t the only problem; anti-fatness is, unfortunately, everywhere. But the fat liberation movement is still going strong, and if you’d like to get more involved, you can check out the resources below!

This August marks the 5th Annual Fat Liberation Month, which was started by the National Association to Advance Fat Acceptance (NAAFA) after writer Clark Beltran wrote an essay for its Community Voices Blog about how much he desired a Fat Pride Month. This is an ideal time to #ReadFatBooks, learn (more) about the fat liberation movement, and advocate (more) for our rights!

In solidarity,

Samantha Puc (she/they)
Nonbinarian Book Club Coordinator & Newsletter Editor