Hunger

 

    My favorite nonfiction novel, one of the few I have consumed, is Hunger by Roxane Gay. Though I read Hunger last semester as a class requirement, I recognized it as a meaningful piece of work that I would reflect on frequently outside of the course. The book centers around Gay's experience in being an obese, bisexual, woman of color. Her writing is raw and poetic, following her life from a young adolescent into adulthood. She speaks of specific events that have altered her perception of her body and being. While there is no grand discovery or conclusion Gay draws upon in the end, the accumulation of ridicule she receives from the public based solely on her appearance is enough to create a clear message. She consciously addresses intersectionality. For Gay, being a minority in three differing categories has impacted her in an extremely particular way. 

    Despite that fact that I have never endured an eating disorder, or feared the idea of intimacy to such an extent that I would hide my body from on lookers, Roxane's words struck a cord within me. Regardless of the fact that her experience is so distinct, most can find the empathy to relate to Gay. Identifying as a women, I can understand the feeling of being rejected by society for whatever means. I often found myself  resonating with Gay's passionate tone simply because she too is a female and in reality, her struggles are far too common. 

    "The story of my body is not a story of triumph. This is not a weight-loss memoir. There will be no picture of a thin version of me, my slender body emblazoned across this book's cover, with me standing in one leg of my former, fatter self's jeans. This is not a book that will offer motivation. I don't have any powerful insight into what it takes to overcome an unruly body and unruly appetites. Mine is not a success story. Mine is, simply, a true story."