“No One Wants To See A Big Woman Looking Like That”: How I Learned To Stop Worrying And Love The Booty

This is an extract from She’s Having a Laugh – 25 of Australia’s funniest women on life, love and comedy, which is out April 19 through Affirm Press. The collection also features work from Annabel Crabb, Corinne Grant, Yumi Stynes, Gretel Killeen, and more.

–

In 2011, when I was writing my first solo stand-up show, Australian Booty, I decided to pose (almost completely) nude for my poster. The image was a reappropriation of the American Beauty shot featuring the minuscule Mena Suvari lying naked on a bed of roses (which was in turn an appropriation of a famous photo of Bette Midler taken by Annie Leibovitz).

The visual concept cut to the heart of my show: curvaceous, size-16 brown girl smashes her thick thighs and fat ass into the public view with the by-line “Don’t hate me because I’m bootiful”.

Reclaiming the term ‘fatty-boom-boom’ was a thoroughly emotional, intense, loving and joyous experience. Writing the show was like being naked in a deluxe car wash, without a car. The work shook me through massive personal blocks, spun me around huge memories, drenched me in heartbreaks and buffed the mirrors of my triumphs. My aim in creating the show was to make people (especially women) laugh, as I laid bare my personal stories on the path to self-love and booty pride.

Like any big event – such as school formals, graduations, significant birthdays, Tinder dates, weddings and opening nights – once the venue’s booked, the greatest concern is, of course, what you’re going to wear. As you can imagine, finding the right dress was essential for my performance confidence. I wanted a body-hugging, sexy-ass red dress that would accentuate my curves. I wanted the audience to see fireworks as their eyes hit each major part of my womanly landscape: Boobs! Hips! Thighs! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! I wanted to look like the love child of Sophia Loren and Queen Latifah with a sprinkle of Beyoncé … Obviously that would be some sophisticated IVF sci-fi baby-making right there, but you get the picture. I wanted to simmer, with enough stretch that I could still shake what my mama gave me, but tight, right!

I set off with a good three weeks under my belt to find the perfect outfit. Unfortunately I started my mission in Sydney; I’ve gotta say, out of all of my nightmare shopping experiences Sydney stores really seem to take the cake. (I love cake.) So I walk into this bougie boutique off King Street in Newtown and straight away the shopgirl is on me like brown on rice:

“OMG look at you, Macy Gray? Go the fro! I love your skin. I wish I had some black in me, literally – black guys are hot! I’d love to have a little cafe-latte baby: cute! Just so you know, all our jewellery is like cost price right now it’s ridic’, and all of our plus-size maxis are 50 per cent off – so it is your lucky day, Macy Gray!”

No word of a lie, she said all of that to my face as I walked into the shop. Now I don’t know what Caucasian women get when they go shopping, but I’m guessing it ain’t a cavalcade of race-based misinformed compliments topped off with the terrifying image of a brown child in a Gucci handbag. Frankly I’m quite used to this sort of banter (it’s always draining) and usually I walk away, but I was on a mission. In an act of serious self-control, I took a breath, stilled my twitching eyelashes and spoke calmly about my desire for a body-hugging, sexy-ass, killer red dress that would accentuate my bootylicious shape.

As I was speaking, I noticed the assistant’s eyes glaze over and a truly unsettling grin widen across her face. When I finished describing my outfit (I kid you not) this woman responded by rap-singing the chorus of Kelis’ ‘Milkshake’ to me.

She responded to me with Kelis lyrics. I’ll say it again. She responded to me with Kelis lyrics. WHAT THE ACTUAL WHAT?

Here’s the thing, folks: I have in my day had it all – I’ve been called every black female pop star that has an afro, from Aretha Franklin to Connie from Sneaky Sound System (and a few male ones too). When I say called, I mean shouted at by people in vehicles on the street, interrupted at restaurants by fellas having a laugh with their mates, and heckled while doing comedy. It took me ages to understand why this was so funny, because it seems so racist and mean-spirited.

One time a little kid eating ice-cream with his family pointed at me and said, “Hey, there’s Guy Sebastian”, and the whole family laughed… I’m like, Wha-a-a-t? I remember wondering why the parents didn’t pull that kid up and lay down the law regarding manners and people’s feelings and such.

But I got it when I was at my friend’s wedding, which was mainly attended by people of colour, with a few Caucasian folks here and there.

I was hanging with a bunch of brown girls when a skinny white guy with long hair walked past. I whispered, “Who invited Russell Brand?” We laughed for a good twenty minutes. I did feel a little bad … but it was pretty funny in a ‘back-atcha, white people’ kind of way.

Anyway, back at the shop in Sydney, I was starting to feel all sorts of angry when the assistant pulled out a red dress that looked like a shower curtain with two holes cut out for the arms and said, “A mama like you needs a muu-muu – it’ll cover all those lumps and bumps.” I opened my mouth to protest, but she raised her hand and continued: “You don’t want to look like a ham at Christmas. Believe me, no one wants to see a big woman looking like that.”

So as I was rolling up my sleeves, because I like to get comfortable before I lay down any serious feminism, a gaggle of tweens entered the shop and the assistant was off. I picked up my bag and was out of there … Obviously I got some bling before I left — at cost price, it was too good to pass up — but I left with the firm resolve never to shop there again.
The following week I was in Melbourne and I walked into a store called Vicious Venus — already the name was working for me. There was a swag of dresses that were working for me too, and the shop assistant was totally sweet. I described what I wanted, including the ‘BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!’ and she replied, “Easy!” Every time I walked out of the dressing room, she complimented me – “Hot!” and “Hot-damn, that’s hot!” and “Wow, lady, you are smoking hot!” So you know what? I BOUGHT THE DRESS FROM HER! Full price.

Strutting out in my killer red dress nightly, I opened the show with an ode to my bum.

Booty, Bum, Buns, Caboose,
Heinie, Fanny, Bongos, Glutes,
Backside, Tush, Bottom, Pom Pom,
Double Dutch, Bom Bom, Tom Tom,
Wide Load, Tail, Seat,
Rear End, Prime Meat,
Posterior, Behind, Humps,
Superior, Boompalumps,

Moon, Spoon, Backstack,
Puff, Scoop, Backpack,
Boot, Buttocks, Derriere,
Keister, Rump, Medium Rare,
Peach, Tambourine, Apricot,
Cheeks, Tangerine, Bubble Butt,
Jelly, Boda, Flatty, Trunk,
Apple, Ass, Fatty, Junk!

Ooh, I’m in love, I’m in love, I’m in love with my big booty.
Ooh, I’m in love, I’m in love, I’m in love with me!
What do ya get, when ya start loving
What do ya get, when ya start loving
What do ya get, when ya start loving
The thighs, the butt, the hips, the rubbing?

This is my booty and it rocks
This is my booty and it’s hot
This is my booty and it’s bad
Bad like killer, bad like rad
This is my booty and it’s fine
This is my booty and it’s mine
This is my booty, wish someone
Would pay my booty double time
This is my booty and it’s rare
This is my booty, click the air
This is my booty, I don’t care
Kiss my Aussie derriere

This is my booty, take a ride
This is my booty, move aside
This is my booty travel guide
From booty shame to booty pride

The moment in the show that will stick with me forever – the coindrop moment in every performance — was when I asked the audience:

“What would happen if we started with love, rather than hate? What would happen if every girl and woman loved herself?” There was always complete silence. I’d ask again: “What would happen if every girl and woman loved herself ?” I’d look into the faces of my audience, which was 75 per cent women, 30 per cent people of colour, 40 per cent queer and a couple of straight white guys who looked like the dad from Family Ties. (I don’t know why, but I gather that shy-looking, bearded men in their fifties must enjoy going to comedy shows with queer feminists.)

I’d look into these faces and see the deluxe car wash begin to whirl. Now I shall leave you how I left my audiences each night, with a deep and loving booty meditation. Please use this prayer whenever you need a booty-pride boost, but before you read it, take off your shoes, get comfortable and load your stereo, iPod or laptop with your favourite song to dance to — be it ‘Fat Bottomed Girls’ by Queen, ‘Family Affair’ by Mary J Blige, ‘Wuthering Heights’ by Kate Bush or ‘Super Bass’ by Nicki Minaj (no judgement), this is your moment …

Relax
Release your shoulders
Release your neck
All that fear of audience participation – let it go
Let your nose and ears and forehead fall right off your face
Let go
Release your toes, your heels, your ankles, your calves, your knees, your thighs
Breathe
And now release your anus
The seat of physical and metaphysical holding on
Unclench
It’s time to feel love
Deep love
Deep booty love
I want you to go there
Explore it
How do you feel about your bum?
Is this the first time you’ve acknowledged it or is it your obsession?
What does your booty mean to you?
What do you call it?
What has it been called?
Release it
Love it
Because no matter what you feel about your booty or the greater world view of booty in general …
There is only one way forward and that is to move through love

NOW TURN UP THE STEREO AND SHAKE IT LIKE EVERYONE IS WATCHING!

–

She’s Having a Laugh – 25 of Australia’s funniest women on life, love and comedy, comes out April 19 through Affirm Press.

–

Candy Bowers is a passionate performer of fearless sticky performance, theatre, music and spoken word. She has appeared on Q&A, been published in Yours Truly (Penguin) and hosted The Circle (Channel Ten).