My Bumbum, My Choice

A rant about beauty standards.

I'd be sad if all I ever wrote about was book reviews! I need to share these juicy itty bitty details with you guys, because I love you all so much. But don't worry, I won't stop there. I also want to talk about the standards and expectations society sets for women.

Okay so, “Only big bumbum matters” by damilare kuku… I needed you guys to hold me when I read that line about ‘three million naira for big bumbum’. The Yoruba in me couldn't help but shout ‘ntori kini?’ (what for?) Pls whatever happened to using money to buy clothes or even better, food? I can think of a million things I'd do with that money and big bumbum wouldn't be one of them. And the fact that it's on the top of Temi’s list is saddening. Don't get me wrong, I like a good bunda, but I'd chose food any day.

Aunty jummai might be a talkative but at least she has a point when she said, ‘if it was by backside that men valued us, my husband will still be here.’

Damilare's portrayal of Prof's family resonated deeply with me. A father, a man of principle who remained faithful and invested in his daughters, stands in stark contrast to the common narrative of African fathers who rule through fear and detachment. Even Aunty jummai said it made no sense, in her words - No girigiri, just soft soft. Aunty Jummai's reaction to Prof's loving, "soft-soft" relationship with his wife and daughters was bewildering. She couldn't comprehend such a gentle, affectionate dynamic, especially within an African family context.
It was a beautiful reminder that healthy, nurturing relationships are possible, both between spouses and parents and children. This kind of love and connection isn't just an ideal – it's something we can strive for and achieve with dedication and effort.

“You really didn't think anything was wrong with your body until Big mummy pointed out how thin you were on your eighth birthday.”

“You paid no mind to the banter because you knew from looking at your mother and sister, you would eventually be fine. But her words stayed with you.”

The overbearing aunties, and their constant critiques about appearances, from clothes to actions, is just suffocating. Their every comment - “Is that how you want to be doing in your husband's house?” or “Is this how you intend to dress in your husband's house?” - reinforces that our worth are tied to pleasing and seeking validation of a future, faceless husband. We are then trapped in a cycle of trying to meet his undefined expectations, instead of living our own lives and making choices that makes us happy. Reading the book reminded me that society's expectations has made us lose the ability to dress or act for ourselves and that's deeply unsettling.

So let's go down to one of these societal standards set for women : the beauty ideal

In the book, the main character is obsessed with having a big, jiggly butt, believing it's the key to achieving everything society says she needs, after suffering from endless body shaming from her peers and even family. This relentless focus on a specific body shape shows the pressure women (and even men) face to conform. You find yourself staring at your reflection in a mirror every day, wishing your waist was smaller and your butt was bigger, feeling like you need to meet these standards to be considered attractive, desirable, and worthy.

Okay, so you put in the work, do all the squats, and finally get that Khloe Kardashian-esque booty. Do you feel satisfied? Or then you watch some Korean dramas and realize that skinny women are the ideal. Do you then try to lose all the weight you gained for your butt, or do you feel guilty for even trying to conform to those standards in the first place?

Everyone's got their preferences, and there'll always be unsought opinions about how you look. Today, it's your bumbum, tomorrow it might be your height or saggy breast. It never stops. But you can ignore the whispers. No be your body, who wan beat you?

Damilare Kuku gets it right in her book: 'For the ones who stare at a mirror all day, hoping to fix it with their eyes... I have broken my mirror, please break yours.' Free yourself from the shackles of trying to fit society's mold. Don't lose yourself in the search for yourself.

And with that…

Cynthia, my lovely Latina with the big backside, I see you.

Nkechi, with big nyansh that Bro Femi is always flagging at our street junction , I see you.

Carribbean princess, with your locs bouncing behind you, even though its not only the locs we are looking at, I see you too.

Sister tope, that is always wearing her mummy's bubu to hide her flat behind, I see you.

Loveth, that is wearing bumbum to impress secondary school boys, I see you too.

My name is Fareedah. I'm a slim girl with moderately sized bumbum and I'm proud of it! Call me ‘Lepa Shandy’🤭

Your anonymous bestie

Ree🤍