Across all modes of fashion, fatphobia has become acceptable background noise, so familiar we barely even notice it.
This past week, Cardi B sparked backlash after she went on Instagram Live to discuss her merch sales. “[It] completely sold out, especially because you fat f**ks –– no Chick fil-A for y’all –– all the 3Xs sold out in like 20 minutes,” the Bronx native said. “Now, knowing that my fans is fat, I can’t even make fun of fat people no more. Don’t call me fat-phobic, y’all, because everybody makes fun of my BBL. So I can body-shame people ’cause y’all body-shame me.”
In response, content creator and size inclusivity activist Samyra reacted with a video highlighting the larger issues around the lack of size diversity in celebrity merch and how fat fans often cannot purchase the clothes sold at concerts because of it. Cardi B replied to Samyra’s video by stating that it “wasn’t that serious,” and that the joke was initially something her fans had said on social media — which is why she made the joke again while on live — to which Samyra responded: “Just because someone else makes a joke doesn’t mean you have to too.”
Since the interaction, Samyra has stepped away from social media because of intense vitriol and attacks from Cardi B’s fans (which Cardi denounced in a TikTok story statement), many of which focus on her body size. Cardi and her fans have repeated the same sentiment — it’s not that deep; but that couldn’t be further from the truth. Diversity issues within the fashion space have always been considered “less important,” and it’s the reason why the industry has been slow to change, and is still trying to make strides toward longstanding progress.
Fatphobia is so invasive colloquially that it's often considered an orthodox part of modern society. From “yo mama” jokes to the acronym DUFF, we’ve been indoctrinated to believe larger bodies are meant to be designated targets of harassment, because if people wanted to change, they would; that mindset, however, is actually rooted in racism that dates back to the Atlantic Slave Trade.
And that foundational neglect is still felt years later in the fashion space. Vogue Business’s Fall/Winter 2025 size inclusivity report shows the continued decline of larger bodies in the fashion space. According to their findings, of the 8,703 looks displayed across 198 shows and presentations, 97.7% were straight-size (US 0-4), 2% were mid-size (US 6-12), and 0.3% were plus-size (US 14+).
Moreover, plus-size representation on the runway dropped from an already low 0.8% last season, while mid-size representation is down from 4.3%. Not to mention the number of plus-size brands that have shut down, like Wray, Arula, and Torrid, which is closing 180 stores.
Throughout history, fat people, especially in fashion, have existed alongside the exclusionary barriers of what is deemed worthy. We are all forced to wear clothes, and yet a specific group has been made to feel inferior through a lack of sizing options, stigma, and made-up standards about what’s considered flattering or appropriate for different body sizes.
To claim that size diversity — or using your sold-out merch as the butt of a joke — isn’t that serious is to actively participate in a system that’s been set in stone for years. The argument that people in larger bodies could “just lose weight” if they truly wanted to fit into a certain fashion moment is not only flawed but counterproductive. Losing weight isn’t something that comes overnight, or something that’s even possible or desired for some. Yet everyone still needs to wear clothes.
In Cardi B's initial video, she said that people constantly make fun of her body, which she claims gives her leeway to make fun of others. Cardi certainly does face body shaming, but that does not mean fat people are obligated to accept the constant dismissal and minimization of their existence in exchange.
In another video addressing the dispute, Cardi B claimed she didn’t need to spend a few hours reading a book on fatphobia — as Samyra had suggested — because she could spend that time watching documentaries on how the government “successfully killed thousands of people just so they could migrate them out of their space.”
Cardi B has been consistent in her advocacy for marginalized communities, but downplaying the harm other groups also face won’t get us there. To insinuate that the reality of fatphobia is not something to be focused on because there are other issues affecting marginalized communities is sidestepping the larger efforts it takes to combat racism and white supremacy.
Because, yes, fatphobia is a byproduct of both of those things. Cardi B telling Samyra, a young Black woman, that her fatphobic joking isn’t important amid the larger issues Black and brown people face is a direct misunderstanding of how all of our issues are connected.
Historically, fatphobia is rooted in anti-Blackness, as shown in Sabrina Strings’ book Fearing the Black Body: The Racial Origins of Fat Phobia. As outlined by UCLA graduate Hannah Carlson, from the American slave trade to modern-day society, fatphobia has been used “in an effort to define the ideal of American beauty, and thereby to sustain white supremacy over immigrants and enslaved Africans, thinness grew as an index of both racial and class distinction.”
Fatphobia has long been part of the racism Black and brown people have been shown and serves as the groundwork for why, today, women of color will be villainized for their bodies.
To someone who does not have to face the heavy onset of attacks daily, it might seem arbitrary to treat fatphobia with the same level of advocacy as immigration and colorism. Still, it’s that constant negation — especially visible in the fashion space — that keeps marginalized people down and harmful systems in operation. The size inclusivity and diversity issue Samyra is “always advocating for, and inserting herself into” is justified by serious mass consideration and backing.
You can say it was a “simple joke” about your larger-bodied fans buying up your merch, but to claim it’s not that serious is a prime example of how watered-down fatphobia has become — so watered down that we often cannot recognize our own internalized fatphobia even if it's staring back at us.
