Old Street
You can find this bit of graffiti on the side of Silvio’s Coffee House on Blackall Street in East London. It’s also scrawled — word for word and in the same style — on a couple other London buildings. I know this because I googled the phrase.
The Google is very good at giving us access to information. But it doesn’t give us knowledge. I still don’t know quite what to make of this statement. Is it a feminist indictment of the Tyranny of Thin? Or a misogynist’s hateful comment? Is it a personal lament? Or maybe a proud declaration? Was it meant to be social commentary? Or was it the result of a vandal’s idle moment? Was it written by a man? Or by a woman? And how much difference would that make? None? A lot?
I don’t know. I don’t know and I like that ambiguity. I like the passionate red in which it’s written. I like that it makes me think, and that it’s engaged the attention of other people. Lots of other people. I like that the artist’s motivation doesn’t necessarily matter — we can draw our own conclusions. About graffiti, about weight and size, about fashion, about hate and self-hate and the shaming of others.
I like that it’s a statement and not a question. I like that it’s a statement that poses questions. I hope Silvio’s Coffee House removes it. I hope Silvio’s never removes it. I hope that whoever wrote this wrote it with compassion. I like that it doesn’t matter what I hope.
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