Jess Human

Though completely cliché this idiom is the MOST true, and it was never more apparent to me than when I faced an intervention . Ever experienced an intervention? Unfortunately, I have—from my best friends, nonetheless. I was told that if I were “smaller,” I would be “killin’ em.” Apparently I have all of the right features, my complexion and hair, for example, beautiful, but my size...well…it restricts my status as the ‘full package.’ Naïvely, back then, I agreed. I mean...I have been told throughout my life (by multiple sources) that I have good hair and skin. The problem that resulted from this completely unsolicited and quite frankly unnecessary and ineffective intervention was that my already low self-esteem rejected any positive messaging, and I instead internalized another level of body hate. However, my friends were not at fault; they were just trying to be helpful. They only reinforced the shallow, normative beauty standards to which they were also restricted. In fact, the ...

This post was inspired by Madonna’s song Holiday (blame my affinity for 80’s pop-rock on my mother) in which Madonna challenges fans to celebrate life. This cheery little ditty inspired me to attempt to celebrate my professional accomplishments. Honestly, this notion of celebrating myself is quite foreign. I find it difficult to recognize my success; I am my biggest critic. Growing up I may have set some unrealistic expectations—perhaps becoming a millionaire by 25 is quite unattainable when one spends (when one could invest or save) every dime on frivolous exploits like technology and clothing—but I digress. In college I dreamed that I would become a corporate attorney, but this dream was quickly rejected when I enrolled in my first Sociology class in which I learned how the deindustrialization of Detroit led to its decline. Detroit was and will always be home—I realized in that moment that I would rather work for something meaningful. I continued to pursue Sociology, volunteer...

I am the self proclaimed queen of selfies . I mean when my camera is placed at the perfect 35-65 degree, I make art . Don’t believe me? Check out my facebook or instagram , I am a selfie  artist!   I wasn’t born with this gift either—no my friends, it has been cultivated over time. I have worked tirelessly, some might say relentlessly, to perfect my selfie game, which began circa 2005. It’s no coincidence either—nope this artform is completely scripted, rehearsed, edited, revised and intentionally published. Shooting the perfect selfie takes effort, practice and time. The perfect selfie showcases my gorgeous face (my absolute favorite feature) while simultaneously hiding my least favorite…my body. Seeing as I promised transparency and honesty, here it is... I have taken and continue to take selfies because I struggle with body disassociation—I’ve often tried (through my selfies ) to imagine that the grotesque fixture attached to my adorable little head is not my own. Ye...

In college I started to notice that I was referred to as the big girl in my group of insanely attractive and skinny friends, and the more that I thought about it… big girl had probably been my moniker since grade school. Interestingly enough, NO ONE (and I mean absolutely no one) had ever asked me how I felt about being called big —they just said it…rude, right ? I mean I’d never just introduce someone named Robert as Bobby unless I was given permission. Yet a million+1 times    I’d overhear things like “you know Jessica… the big girl...” or “Jessica.. the big girl we’re always with..” It was as though my ONLY memorable trait was my size, and because I did (and still do) take up substantially more space than an average woman, it made sense -___- I guess I have just learned to accept it. People notice me because I AM big —I mean I stand at 6’ tall—but that doesn’t mean it feels nice and from this hurt (or pure embarrassment), I have never healed. I can now accept being c...