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Sonya Renee Taylor On ‘Radical’ Self-Love And How Black Women Can Elevate
If a breath of fresh air was a person, it would be Sonya Renee Taylor. Even via our Zoom call, the poet, best-selling author, and social justice advocate exudes that perfect mix of grace, intellect, and tell-it-like-it-is candor of your favorite auntie or podcast host. Taylor, who started The Body Is Not An Apology movement in 2011 and wrote The New York Timesbest-seller The Body Is Not An Apology: The Power of Radical Self-Love in 2018, has used her voice and platform to create a profound safe space, and drive a movement behind being unapologetically yourself as a Black woman and embracing all that comes with that journey.
Sonya has also powerfully taken on the dismantling of systems set up in the U.S. that support body-based oppression and stifle true "radical self-love," stepping beyond shame and so-called societal "norms" of what being a woman supposedly should be and into inner transformation that blossoms divinely. I had a conversation with Taylor that not only blessed my soul—and reaffirmed my own journey toward self-love— about what exactly “radical self-love” means, how concepts of body positivity have evolved—or not—and how we, as Black women, can take back our power to define womanhood on our own terms.
Courtesy of Sonya Renee Taylor
xoNecole: So, you've been a fierce advocate for 'radical' self-love, and your poetry as well as your platform have seen global recognition. You've touched so many people. How did the idea for your platform and book, 'The Body Is Not An Apology,' come about?
Sonya Renee Taylor: From a place of love. I’d asked my friend about her sexual health choices and why she wasn’t using protection with this person that I knew was a casual partner. And my friend responded very honestly–very transparently—and shared that because of her disability–she has cerebral palsy—that she felt it made it difficult already to be sexual so she didn’t feel entitled to ask this person to use a condom.
xoNecole: Oh wow...no!
SRT: And my immediate response—that I’m very clear today, was through me, not of me—I said, "Your body is not an apology. It’s not something you offer someone to say, 'Sorry for my disability.'" And those words resonated. They stuck for me. They felt like I wasn’t just sharing a message with a friend. I also was communicating something that I needed to know too, and you know, at the time I was a poet and so when something particularly compelling showed up, I wrote about it. I was going to write the poem with this refrain, “The body is not an apology.” So I wrote that poem, and I began performing it and sharing it.
I believe that language is always making things manifest, so what we speak over our lives always comes into being—good, bad, or indifferent. And so those words—the words I had written in this poem–started challenging me to look at the places where I was still living like my own body was an apology. In a small way, a few months prior, I’d taken a photo of myself—a selfie in a black corset—and I felt sexy and delicious. I also felt like I didn’t have a right to feel sexy and delicious in this fat, dark-skin body and so I hid the picture away until February 9, 2011.
"I believe that language is always making things manifest, so what we speak over our lives always comes into being—good, bad, or indifferent."
Prompted by someone who posted a photo of a plus-sized model, naked, on my Instagram page, I went and googled her quickly and one of the first ads that came up was with her in a black corset for a lingerie campaign. I just felt inspired. Why am I hiding this thing that I feel good about? What would it look like if I just posted this picture? So I posted it and asked people on Facebook, "Post a picture where you feel beautiful and powerful in your body." The next day about 30 people had tagged me in photos. I was like, ‘Maybe we just need a little space where we’re allowed to affirm ourselves and each other. So maybe I’ll start a little Facebook page and I’ll name it after this poem, and I’ll call it, ‘Your Body Is Not An Apology.’'
So, I started a Facebook page and that was 11 years ago, a New York Times best-seller-ago and a multimedia company ago.
xoNecole: That's amazing! There are a lot of women who feel like they have to dishonor themselves in order to appease a partner sexually. I love that you were that friend. Now tell me this: How has the concept of self-love evolved for you today, considering your success and considering that body positivity and self-love now seem to be trending topics. What have you seen in terms of evolution, if any?
SRT: I think that part of the reason the word ‘radical’ ended up on self-love—when I started this 11 years ago, there were less than one page of hits on the page of ‘radical self-love—it was me and one other person. [Laughs] At the time, I was really talking about body empowerment and how we honor all bodies. What’s happened over time, for me, it’s become very clear that our relationship to self-worth— to our sense of enoughness—filters into every aspect of existence. And not just our existence but everybody’s existence. This thing we think of as this very individual experience that we’re having by ourselves—in how we relate to our body—actually has global, political, and socioeconomic consequences.
‘Radical’ is so important in self-love because I want people to make the connection that I’m talking about a kind of love that changes systems, that I’m talking about a kind of love that transforms policies, that transforms institutions. I’m talking about a kind of love that transforms how we show up in the world, which consequently changes how the world exists. And I have seen, over and over again in my own life, that when I am connected to [and] moving from my own radical self-love, I am looking at how the world has said I’m supposed to experience being this fat, Black, bald, queer, neurodivergent woman—what the world says that’s supposed to mean—versus what I inherently understand what my true self knows about that, which is that each and every aspect of me is divine and that when I buy into what the system has told me to buy into about that, that I reinforce all of those negative aspects of the system.
"It’s become very clear that our relationship to self-worth— to our sense of enoughness—filters into every aspect of existence. And not just our existence but everybody’s existence. This thing we think of as this very individual experience that we’re having by ourselves—in how we relate to our body—actually has global, political, and socioeconomic consequences."
If I listen to what the world says about being a dark-skinned Black woman, I immediately become an agent of anti-Blackness. I immediately become an agent of white supremacist delusion. When I believe what the world tells me about my fat body, I immediately become an agent of fatphobia. And so, all of those systems stand because so many of us have been indoctrinated to be agents for them, knowingly and unknowingly. So, every time I tap into my own radical self-love, I divest from that job I was given, that I didn’t even know I was given, to keep furthering those systems.
And I think that that is where body positivity misses the boat because body positivity has been co-opted and turned into this incredibly apolitical thing. Body positivity was born out of the fat liberation movement of the ‘70s, which was started by queer women, disabled communities, and people of color, and it was co-opted so that white ladies could feel good in their size 14 jeans. That’s cute. I want that for people, I suppose.
I don’t want you to feel terrible about yourself, but how does that impact the wage gap for Black women? How does that stop extra-judicial killing by the police? It doesn’t, and the radical self-love I’m talking about interrupts those systems, interrupts those ideas that there are bodies that are not worthy of resources, opportunity, and life. And so, consequently, we devalue those bodies. [Transforming that system is] what radical self-love does. And to me, that’s an inherently political act.
xoNecole: So let's talk more about redefining 'woman' in that context then. Oftentimes, being a Black woman, we were raised with concepts and issues with our bodies, from our grandmas to our moms to our aunties. For me, I grew up tall and slim, so anything above a size 6 was said to be "fat" in a negative way in my family. How do we as Black women really embrace 'radical' self-love, especially considering some of the things we've been taught about ourselves?
SRT: One of the things I advocate for is that first, we have to understand where those [negative messages] come from. Oftentimes we think that we created them. Like, ‘I have this judgment about myself, this thing that popped up in my head,’ or ‘I have this judgment about myself and the boy in 8th grade gave it to me or my grandmama gave it to me.’ So we have this very centralized focus of responsibility. I encourage people to zoom the lens out and to understand that it’s an individual experience they’re having inside of a larger context of systems and structures. Your grandmother got the message that ‘fat’ was bad. Where did she get that message from?
She got it from a campaign that started in the 19th century, the late 1800s, right after the abolition of slavery, where white people needed to figure out new ways to reconstruct their power. They needed to figure out ways to reaffirm their superiority. Dieting and control of the body became that new way. And we know about this because, in the book Fearing the Black Body by Sophia Strings, she talks about the historical and racial origins of fatphobia. So that wasn’t an idea your grandma just came up with. It was an idea inside a larger system—a system we call white supremacy, inside of what I call white supremacist delusion. I don’t want to get it twisted. Inside of that system is another doll—that doll is called fatphobia. And then, inside of that system, there are communities who pass on, and become unwitting agents of that system because they’ve been told these messages.
If you can get [to] that larger level, you can recognize that these ideas are not my ideas. They are the ideas of a larger system that’s designed to control me and manipulate me, that’s designed to further marginalize and oppress me. I don’t want to be an agent of that. So, then what do I do? I start raising the consciousness and I start taking new action based off of that awareness. “Well, this is what I used to do, based on that indoctrination. What can I do now? Well, maybe I could make a little money jar, and every time I say something fatphobic about myself, I put a little something in there.” That’s my reminder to invest in myself and divest from that system.
There are small little activities we can do to help interrupt old patterns—those old stories of womanhood that often come out of those systems, but it’s important to recognize that it was the system that told us that. It’s not our authentic self. Authentic self understands our inherent worthiness.
xoNecole: A lot of us look in the mirror and see those delusions. I've never outlived the negative feelings of my Granny calling me "fat" when I gained any amount of weight. It makes you feel like you're not enough. It's taken me decades to undo the effects of that, with therapy as well. Are you an advocate of therapy as a resource to tap into that 'radical' self-love?
SRT: Absolutely. I'm a wildly unapologetic advocate of therapy. My therapist is my longest relationship. We’ve been together for 10 years. So one of the things I think particularly Black women need to give themselves permission to do is to invest in ourselves. We’ve been so conditioned to take care of everybody else—to take care of everybody else’s well-being, to look out for everyone else. And what I am a profound advocate of is that it’s of no use to anyone to give from a dwindling cup.
What I give from is my overflow and I give from my overflow for two reasons: One, what’s in my cup belongs to me. That’s how I sustain myself. So what you give is more vibrant and more beautiful from overflow. And two, I am not doing anyone any favors—I’m not actually offering the world a real gift to, like, have my backwash or the dribble at the bottom of my cup. I make sure that my cup is full first so that whatever it is I’m giving is a generous and joyful gift to the world and that, to me, relates to therapy or whatever healing modalities that we decide to undertake.
"What I give from is my overflow and I give from my overflow for two reasons: One, what’s in my cup belongs to me. That’s how I sustain myself. So what you give is more vibrant and more beautiful from overflow. And two, I am not doing anyone any favors—I’m not actually offering the world a real gift to, like, have my backwash or the dribble at the bottom of my cup. I make sure that my cup is full first so that whatever it is I’m giving is a generous and joyful gift to the world and that, to me, relates to therapy or whatever healing modalities that we decide to undertake."
First, let me learn to take good, good, good, good, good care of me. Because, one, so that I can give a fantastic instruction guide for whoever else shows up and says they want to do the job, and, two, so that when I’m offering something to the world, it never has the bitter taste of resentment and it never has the flavorlessness of exhaustion. It doesn’t have any of those qualities because it’s so full of what it is that I, first, offer myself.
Find out more about Sonya Renee Taylor and The Body Is Not An Apology via her Instagram or website.
Featured image courtesy of Sonya Renee Taylor
This article is sponsored by Hulu.
UnPrisonedhas returned for its highly anticipated second season, delving deeper into the complex dynamics of the Alexander family.
The series premiere comes a year after its debut season garnered rave reviews from fans and critics and earned record-breaking ratings for Hulu's Onyx Collective brand. UnPrisoned's success can be attributed to its raw, relatable themes and comedic appeal.
Inspired by creator Tracy McMillan's life, the show follows Paige (Kerry Washington), a therapist and single mother whose life takes an unexpected turn when her father, Edwin (Delroy Lindo) --who was released from prison-- moves in with her and her teenage son, Finn (Faly Rakotohavana).
Throughout UnPrisoned's first season, viewers witnessed how Edwin's incarceration deeply affected Paige's life and relationships. In the series, Paige unpacks her trauma through interactions with her inner child and her online followers. Meanwhile, Edwin is overcoming specific struggles with his own past that led to his life of crime, including a dysfunctional upbringing and his mother's arrest. As the Alexanders attempt to reconcile, new challenges arise.
This new season promises to further explore their unconventional family dynamic. Here are several compelling reasons why season two of UnPrisoned should be on everyone's watchlist.
The Alexander Family Life Is Still In Shambles
UnPrisoned's second season resumes where the series left off, with Paige grappling with the fallout from her troubled therapy practice and Edwin navigating life independently after moving out. Meanwhile, Finn faces his own challenges. The teenager is battling anxiety and seeking information about his father—a topic Paige avoids discussing.
The Alexander Family Are Attending Therapy To Resolve Their Underlying Issues
Amid the chaos in their lives, the Alexander family decides to mend their bond by confronting their past traumas. They seek professional help and attend therapy sessions with a “family radical healing coach,” played by John Stamos, a new cast member. This collective effort aims to unravel the complexities of their shared history and strengthen their relationships.
The process of unraveling each character's internal conflicts and their potential impact on future relationships may clash with Paige's textbook therapy approach. While Paige is used to being in the therapist's seat in both career and family, this forces her into the unfamiliar role of a patient during therapy sessions. This shift would compel her to look in the mirror and try a radically different approach.
The Alexander Family Learned A Big Lesson During A Therapy Session
In therapy, the Alexanders are tasked with addressing their individual traumas to salvage their remaining relationships. One of the family therapist’s eccentric suggestions was an exercise involving a family wrestling match. During this session, Paige faces tough questions about her refusal to share information about Finn's father.
While it's unclear whether this scene is reality or fantasy, the image of the family duking it out in the ring certainly makes for hilarious yet compelling television.
Paige Tries Dating Again Following Failed Relationships
Amid her life's chaos, Paige decides to step back into the dating field. However, her many attempts have left her with mixed results. The dating apps have turned out to be a fail, and an outing with her ex Mal (Marque Richardson), who is also her father's parole officer, doesn’t go quite as expected after he brings an unexpected guest – his new girlfriend.
The situation takes an awkward turn when Mal's new partner learns why the former couple split, partly due to Paige's self-sabotage.
UnPrisoned Is A Perfect Balance Of Comedy And Drama
As a dramedy, UnPrisoned takes a comedic approach to its heavy subjects. The show takes us on a ride with Paige's dating misadventures and navigating a friendship with her ex.
Other lighthearted moments include Edwin's attempts at CPR based on online videos and, of course, the antics of the Alexander family's unconventional new healing coach.
The second season of UnPrisoned is now available on Hulu.
UnPrisoned | Season 2 Trailer | Hulu
Feature image courtesy
'Dear Black Girls': How A'ja Wilson Is Helping Black Girls Heal & Bloom With Confidence
In recent years, books written by Black women, such as Viola Davis, Michelle Obama, and Taraji P. Henson, have adorned our shelves and shown the great trials and tribulations one has had to endure to become the woman we see today. Though their narratives show great accomplishments, they explain in detail the price that had to be paid to achieve their monumental success. Often, this price came at the cost of having to endure unspeakable tragedy. The world was being carried on their shoulders and backs, and they had to learn to balance the weight of it all. Despite the odds, they managed to grow and become exceptionally talented women with limited support or, most of the time, alone.
However, in A'ja Wilson's recently published book, Dear Black Girls, this narrative is changing for the better. The memoir shows that WNBA superstar, and growing legend, A'ja Wilson isn't just a force to reckon with on the court, racking up championships, MVP awards, Olympic gold, and season-record-breaking accomplishments. Her impact transcends the game, reaching into the hearts of young Black women and girls, who like me might have once felt a pang of otherness for embracing their inner tomboy.
Wilson's recently published book offered a powerful remedy, a story that mirrored my own experiences and gently soothed the wounds of not always fitting in. This collection of honest stories is not just about Wilson's journey, it's also a book that holds the potential to heal and inspire countless other Black girls who deserve to see themselves reflected in the pages of a champion.
Although Wilson discusses the tribulations she had to overcome, she didn't have to do them alone and often had more than one support system installed to ensure her success. This book ultimately shows the beauty that grows when Black girls are raised with nourishment, intentionality, and understanding rather than the unrelenting grief and sadness that many believe are necessary to raise Black girls.
In Dear Black Girls: How to Be True to You, the two-time MVP shows us that love, rather than unending tragedy, can be the source of success for all Black girls--past, present, and future. Wilson also shows us how love can occasionally come from an unexpected source--a stranger who only has compassion, empathy, and understanding to offer.
Living While Black
There comes a point in time, in every Black girl's life, where they learn that they are not just a girl, but a Black girl. For me, it was on the playground of my elementary school, where a white girl--who I thought was my friend--called me the n-word when I refused to join her in a fight against a mutual friend. For A'ja Wilson, it was when her "friend" refused to invite her to her house for a sleepover, unless she slept outside. When asked why she had to be the only one to sleep outside, she was quickly informed it had been due to her race. Though her parents discussed it with her and explained why she and the young lady could no longer be friends, A'ja Wilson offers a relatable lens to express the grief of realizing one's otherness.
The year she discovered her Blackness meant a difference, Wilson felt alone and began isolating herself. It wasn't until she met a woman who worked in the cafeteria that she understood the importance of being seen by someone who looked like her. In Dear Black Girls, Wilson teaches the importance of representation and finding someone who "looks like you" and actively cares and checks in with you. Though the young readers of this book will most likely never meet Wilson, she provides her novel as a stand-in role model who actively sees how alone some Black girls feel in the world and tells them lovely: "I see you, I got you."
Finding Oneself
There is a certain power in discovering one's "why." In Dear Black Girls, Wilson explains that in order to find oneself or one's reasons for doing things, it might be important to look to your elders. The ones that could make you believe in yourself. For Wilson, it was her grandmother. Her grandmother was her place of solace and the person she felt closest to. Before she picked up the game of basketball, A'ja's grandmother believed she was special and would achieve so many things in life.
Through this belief, she nurtured Wilson and taught her to believe in the good that everyone had to possess. She taught Wilson that Black women could be heroes, and knew how to "walk the walk" and "talk the talk." She taught Wilson, and in turn, Wilson has taught Black girls, that finding oneself can be done at the hands of the ones that we love. And that if one's love is strong enough, we can "freeze it, and preserve that safe space forever."
It's Okay to Be Different
In school, Wilson was considered a "slow learner." Diagnosed with dyslexia at the late age of 16, she believed she had not been as "smart" as the other kids. Wilson would freeze up in class, and despite loving to write narratives and the school itself, she found she did not catch on with her peers as quickly as she liked. She spent hours on end stressing about being different, so much so, that at times the thought of her otherness became debilitating and all-consuming. With her family and in her solitude, she understood who she was. However, among her friends and in class, she found that she didn't know who she was, nor who they wanted her to be.
From this, she taught Black girls that being a teen is stressful enough, so being oneself should be easily embraced. Though, she admits to not knowing the right thing to say, do, or act, and therefore is unable to give us "cheat codes," the best thing a young Black girl can do, is just be.
Find Your Gardener
I often say that Black women have learned to grow without nourishment. So, in reading Dear Black Girl, it was a refreshing change of pace to read that Wilson had been adorned with love, guidance, honesty, and protection by strong support systems in her life. One of those support systems was Wilson's father. Her father taught her many things in life, but one that was most essential was the importance of perseverance and overcoming mediocrity. See, despite being the best in her career, Wilson and basketball did not mesh well from the start. Instead, she had been known to try many things and was lackluster at best.
Nevertheless, when Wilson was told that she did not play well by her father--after asking why she wasn't getting any playing time--she finally learned to overcome her challenges.
Not because she suddenly practiced more, or believed she could do anything with time. She became better because her father gave her the option to walk away from the sport. He allowed her to be scared, to be unsure of what she wanted in life, and freed her of the stress of absolutes. Through encouragement, he became her gardener--always trying to bring out the best in her through "easy" and "tough" love. In Dear BlackGirls, Wilson encourages Black girls to find their "gardeners," the people in their lives who bring out the best in them, drive them crazy and are never afraid to tell them how it is. The person that pulls out all of the weeds and negativity, and leaves enough space for you to receive sunlight and bloom.
Gaining a Nonsense Detector
While finding a gardener, Wilson also encourages Black girls to find or gain a "nonsense detector." A nonsense detector is just as it sounds, someone who can detect the nonsense that the world is attempting to bring to them and help them identify what it truly is. They are the person who is willing to approach a spade and call it by its name. In Wilson's life, this was her mother. A'ja's mom encouraged her to think logically about her education and its relationship to her basketball career.
She was the person Wilson called when she learned to drive in a new state or deal with the stress of her newfound career. Through her mother's encouragement, she learned not to chase after boys or some concept of a new sense of self, instead, she learned to make decisions with her best interest in mind. In doing so, she chose family, which meant more time with her grandmother, which she would not have had if she hadn't learned to listen to something that encourages no-nonsense.
Grief Has No Timeline, Knows No Bounds
In 2017, during her junior year of college, A'ja Wilson was known as one of the best players in the NCAA. After two seasons of coming up short of winning a national title, she had finally accomplished her goal of winning with Dawn Staley's South Caroline Gamecocks. However, the win was bittersweet, because the champ had been grieving the loss of her grandmother, one of her biggest support systems.
During this time, Wilson discovered that grief could not be neatly packed away in a box, waiting to be unraveled when she had prepared to deal with it. She noted that it was an unending rollercoaster where lows felt all-consuming and endless.
In Dear Black Girls, Wilson discusses the importance of experiencing grief at its pace, and on your own timeline. She explains to young Black girls that the feeling of despair and paralysis is normal and that instead of trying to climb out of the sadness, sometimes it is beneficial to wade through it, with the people you care about. Not only this, she encourages Black girls to embrace support that may be considered unexpected, through a beautiful anecdote involving Dawn Staley.
The champ mentioned the coach drove down to her house, upon hearing about the death of her grandmother, and sat in silence with the athlete as she cried. She informed her that she could take all of the time that she needed and that the "team would be waiting for her when she was ready to return."
You Don't Know What You Don't Know
The issue that many people hold today is they expect to be perfect. Though we know perfection is merely a concept, and the only thing perfect about perfection is the word itself, many dwell on being perfect and having the foresight to ensure it is so. When perfection is inevitably unattainable, we punish ourselves for not knowing better or being fallible. Nevertheless, dwelling on things, especially in relation to being perfect, is nothing more than wasted energy.
In Dear Black Girls, Wilson--through a humorous anecdote of her WNBA drafting day--points out that everyone makes mistakes and that many should not be ashamed for not knowing what they hadn't known before. Instead, beauty lies in learning and giving oneself credit for the knowledge that you now have for navigating future situations. Instead of beating yourself up, Wilson tells young Black girls there is no point in beating themselves up and to allow grace in moments of uncertainty and error.
Protect and Nurture Your Mental Health
The idea of seeking therapy is often a hurdle for Black women. With societal expectations and generational aversions, the concept of the "strong Black woman" often overpowers the necessary, and sometimes dire assistance Black women should seek. In Dear Black Girls, A'ja Wilson points out that most Black women are the first, or one of few, in their families to accomplish significant achievements, such as going to college, getting a corporate job, or making a high-figured salary.
This results in pressure that cannot be seen as relatable by family members, and often results in anxiety disorders, growing, unrelenting pressure, and crippling stress. To solve this, Wilson encourages Black girls to seek help outside of themselves and their friends, to ensure they are not taking on the weight of the world, simply because it was placed on their shoulders. Black women need someone to talk to, especially when it has been ingrained since birth that we should nurture and care for everyone but ourselves. By seeking a therapist, this narrative can change, and the idea of being a "strong Black woman" can come from the idea of learning to be vulnerable and asking for help.
Be Your Own Hero
It is heroic to take control of your own life. Being your own hero gives you confidence and reassurance to face obstacles directly, to follow your passion, and to define success how you see fit. It can be powerful and gratifying to become the best version of yourself and to allow yourself to be. In Dear Black Girls, Wilson teaches Black girls their final lesson, "If you can see them [your heroes], then you can be them." Many Black girls do not seek certain positions in life because they have never seen people who look like them in certain positions.
Nevertheless, Wilson explains the importance of having and seeking out representation, either in life or in media. Then, she encourages young girls to pursue that life they dream of, because anything is attainable with hard effort and--most importantly--love.
Check out A'ja Wilson and the 2024 Paris Women's Basketball Olympic team from July 26 through August 11.
xoNecole's I Read It So You Don't Have To is a recurring series of self-discovery that breaks down self-help books into a toolkit of takeaways and tips that are meant to assist you in finding the best life you can live. Take what works for you, and leave everything else where it is.
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