'If looks can kill, they probably will and they did ...' (Body Fascist Pt. 11)

'... kill you because they hate the way you look.' Nabil Shaban: Body Fascism and Genetic Cleansing

First learned about Dr. Nabil Shaban some months ago while researching on the obvious keyword of Body-you-know-what. To beeb buffs he's probly best known for his role as the alien Evil Sil in the Dr. Who Series (btw 10 years before the Sil of Species), while others might know him from various other plays and/or films, as author of the book Dreams my father sold me or as co-founder of Graeae Theatre Company of Disabled People. Nabil Shaban also generated some ripples when, after the UK joining the war in Iraq, he went to Downing St. 10 and handed back a grant of 25'000 quid cause he felt he couldn't accept the 'blood money'.

Nabil Shaban in Born of Fire (1989). Inside # 57 Interview

What really struck me of course was some of his thoughts on the topic at hand, of which without further ado I'd like to share some excerpts:

"Body Fascism", a term I created in 1983, which places a value on a person’s worth on the basis of physical appearance or attributes....thus someone with an able body that appears perfect, fit, hansome or beautiful, has a superior status...whereas a person who deviates from a socially or culturally physically acceptable norm...i.e too fat, too thin, too short, physically deformity e.g hunchback, wasted hand, clubbed foot, impaired in mobility or senses (blind, deaf etc)..."ugly" in some shape or form....are deemed to have an inferior status. Consequently, the heroic, the romantic, the good, the desirable are portrayed/represented by performers whose physical or bodily attributes evoke the greatest sympathy / identity from the largest possible audience. [...] The problems of Sexism, Ageism and Racism in the performing arts are particular aspects of Body Fascism. "Body Fascist" Market Forces are not just a problem for disabled people. There is no Fair Play: Disability and the Performing Arts

The first people that were gassed in Nazi Germany were disabled people. Not Jews, not gypsies, not communists, but disabled people. The first people that were being castrated, sterilised were disabled people. And the first babies that had been murdered in hospitals by Nazi doctors were disabled people. So the general public should look at what happens to disabled people and realise that that is a warning of about what's going to happen to them next. So it's actually in the interest of non-disabled people to fight with us, to be our allies. Dail Interview

And who said women are more interested in personality! What a load of bollocks! As a disabled man, I have learned that women are just as Body Fascist as men. Inside # 57 Interview

The other thing I noticed was that I started to become sexually interesting to women once I became an actor, started to appear on stage, television and film and become a minor celebrity. Suddenly, I found women who wanted to be my girlfriend, even though I was still disabled. As Henry Kissinger said, "Power is the biggest aphrodisiac". My fame and success was giving me apparent power, and that was what was turning women on. It wasn't me, myself, Nabil that had metamorphosed into a gorgeous looking bloke. I was still the same. I still hated seeing myself in the mirror. It's not surprising billions of people want to be Hollywood movie stars or rock stars, because they instinctively know that even if they are conventionally "ugly" or just plain-looking, the result will still be sexual pulling power. Inside # 57 Interview


Tuppy: If you hate seeing yourself in the mirror (although most people do) could this mean you share body fascism yourself?

Nabil: Indeed. In fact, that was why I originally came up with the term. I was meditating on my own aesthetic prejudices, particularly as an artist, I made myself be aware of my preconditioned preferences and questioned them, analysed them, tried to work out why and how and from whence, and were they culturally determined or are they instinctual products stemming from biological imperatives? In the end, I concluded that the Human condition has the ability to transcend all physical, material, social, genetic dictates and that if we are to move on to a higher, more enlightened plane of existence which is the only refuge that can save us and the planet, we must recognise those demons within, however sourced, which commands us to make value judgements on the basis of ultimately superficial criteria....and having put on the spotlight, we can hopefully exorcise them. That's the theory, anyway. Inside # 57 Interview

Tina Leslie and her and Nabil's baby son Zenyel. The 5th Gospel

And the transport situation, this business of locking people out of cities. It certainly started with disabled people and it's getting to point where I'm not allowed to get into London because every time I do, there is a good chance I'll end up with a parking ticket. In fact the London boroughs have decided since the 1980s to ignore the disabled badge and they claim they've got their own badge. But then you may end up having to have about five or ten different disabled badges. You have to use them in every borough you are going. They have become sort of passports. You cannot go to Kensington and Chelsea unless you show the Kensington and Chelsea disabled badge. You cannot to go to Westminster unless you have the disabled badge for Westminster. So now we have this system of restricting disabled people's mobility and movement in the metropolitan areas and it's obvious in London. Dail Interview

There is certainly legislation that is threatening to disabled people. The Mental Incapacity Bill for example is giving licence to kill disabled people unfortunate enough to end up in a hospital. [...] We have got this attitude in this country where disabled people are considered to be useless, so we have a prioritization system now in our health care. So if you are disabled and you go to a hospital, you are less likely to receive proper treatment because they would like to see you dead. And to try and get on to the waiting list, if you are disabled, it's ten times harder than if you are non-disabled. Because again they actually want to see you dead. [...] Dail Interview

Phew, guess with my reservations against clostridium difficile and similar niceties in NHS facilities in the end still can consider myself spoilt n lucky ...

(In case you'd like to check out more of Nabil Shaban's writings on the net, which is sometimes not too easy cause some pages for mysterious reasons can't be googled, best start on his resummee-page and follow every link from there plus the links on the pages they lead you to.)

(To be continued ...)

'Oh, fattish legs' (Body Fascist Pt. 10)

Sometimes I think women can be much harder on what they might consider as others' physical flaws, especially other women's, than any man could ever be. Like e.g. when hearing my then girlfriend's above comment on the below pic. Also the 2nd part she didn't say but which was written all over her face: 'And no tits!' (And you bet it wasn't about me.)

© Pszychisz Teror

Now I'm aware that, for some reasons not too hard to figure out either, concerning the woman in the picture I might be just a wee bit biased myself, though obviously rather the other way round. (Cause even after eventually falling out of love a little bit always remains, at least in my heart — unless I'm not on another stint in numb limbo, that is.)

Not to mention generally my idea of the ideal female body not exactly being the one e.g. propagated in most ads.

Plus, and not 'just for the record' (but merrily humming along to the tune of 'some of you niggas is bitches too'), didn't mean my statement of women as compared to men in an absolute way, i.e. hinting rather at issues of gender and not talking of a person's sex.

But having said all that, and in addition also considering between women there's usually more competition for looking good than e.g. being rich, still found it pretty hard to swallow or even dig.

Actually till today sure beats me flat and I just remain puzzled.

I mean, imagining myself in her shoes, what would've been my benefit of getting a kick out've something I might regard as a flaw of one of her ex-boyfriends but one of my own strong points? Rsp. why getting a kick out've that at all?

Anybody able to fill me in?

[Well, actually bloody obvious, innit? 'Apparently a body fascist is someone who is insecure about their own body and so projects their own insecurities onto other people with less-than-perfect bodies in order to feel better about themselves.' The irony rsp. inherent logic being, 'twas the same person doing so accusing me of being a 'body fascist' in the first place. However, am afraid I'm still not able having that much a crack at that like the guy on whose blog I found the above def, though of course he's just got it: 'comedy gold'.]

(To be continued ...)

Poetic Injustice a.k.a. Why I like port wine birthmarks (Body Fascist Pt. 9)

Alright, quite an obvious one, I guess.

Cause one of my ex-girlfriends having a pretty huge on on her face, that is.

Couldn't but notice, seeing her the first time. Though the texture of the skin was hardly altered, just the colour, still was very unusual.

But after she'd reassured me it didn't hurt, soon became more normal her having one than everybody else not. Already liked the colours, the shape, and how she wore it.

Though she told me later of some boyfriends always urging her to apply make-up before going out and about.

For the life of me, absolutely never could dig that.

Till some years later, when my then girlfriend started going on about me putting on a cap whenever we'd go out or others would visit, that is.

Vanity (Body Fascist Pt. 8)

One of the deadly sins, I reckon, i.e. not only for Anti-Body-Fascists. Nonetheless am afraid I'm quite a vain person. Probably way too vain for someone of the size of my nose, truth be told.

(Though of course barely hindered by such 'friendly' dos and don'ts.)

Frankly, never got it what everybody was complaining about urgently having to lose weight. Made from merely skin and bones, all I ever wanted was TO GAIN.

Always people taking the piss, my parents would let me starve or, as I grew older, if I was still on hunger strike. In hindsight considering myself lucky having been a kid before 'anorexic' and 'bulimia' becoming the buzzwords they're today.

Always people around me trying not to eat too much. While I keep forcing myself swallowing meals for two so I don't feel (ok, and look) too weak for all sorts of fun.


No matter how much I ate, else never showed. First time in my life I was thinking bout shedding some was while and after the cortisone therapy. First time I ever put on fat. Doubling the layers every few months. Till reaching the point of definitely no more liking it. Though I have to admit, in winter actually comes in handy. Also dropped some quickly after finally getting off the nasty stuff. Still probably never again like on the above pic. Sigh.

Not to mention losing hair (but still not being rich -- though that's another story). And the nose. And just straight on and on.

As you can see, guilty as charged. Vain as vain can be and way more vain than an average male's supposed to be anyway. Not to mention still too thin.

(Though not hindered by that either.)

(continued ...)

'Feels like an angel dreaming of you' (Body Fascist Pt. 7)

Was visiting my sis, getting some books n stuff I'm still stashing in their attic. Having a juice in the kitchen before going upstairs, as usual their two and a half year little one wanting me to play 'Up' with him, i.e. me lifting him at the hands, feet or shoulders as high as I can, cause he knows I'm game at that.

After a while I got a bit worn out and just carried him piggyback or had him sitting on my arm in front of me. Which of course gets him bored rather quickly, so he decided to go for my cap for a change. Cause the wound being still a bit sore and I'm wearing the lose XL one, he's taking it off easily enough.

His eyes already widening at the kinda unexpected result, me automatically thinking, 'Uh-oh, how am I going to break it to him gently so he's not gonna be afraid?'

Which was when it happened. Something I hadn't dared imagining in my wildest dreams, and which I'll carry inside my heart forever.

Cause his eyes were widening, ok, and his mouth opening too -- so far, so common. But not the way like alla the other's, no. Getting really big them eyes, yes, but instead of looking at me with the usual only too well known expressions of contempt, disgust, horror, frowning and you name it -- lightening up, and his mouth starting to smile, till he beamed all over his face, giggling as he wholeheartedly went after the remaining lumps with his wee little fingers, like them being a most delightful new toy, which for him they obviously were.

So much unlike the various strangers grabbing at them like some kind of courage test, approaching their fingertips slowly, touching quickly, recoiling immediately while drawing in a short hissing breath. Not to mention virtually any women I've been with since I'd cut my hair, exposing them to the world to see (and, uh, feel).

Felt like this song by Sonic Youth, kinda, that always used to make me cry:

'It feels like a wish, coming true
It feel like an angel, dreaming of you
Feels like heaven, forgiving and getting ...'

I'm so glad having experienced this before having them all removed. Probably the closest to absolution and redemption I will ever get.

And though also myself I felt so touched and forgiven by his reaction, that's not actually what I'm going on about.

I am talking bout the bloody human race.

(continued ...)

Gearing up for global destruction ... (Body Fascist Pt. 6)

Well, at least gearing up for the destruction of a certain lump on the right side of my head ... (To be perhaps somewhat more precise. Still couldn't resist stealing this line.) A.k.a. trying to get my body as much in shape again as possible for the next round of surgery.

Cause that's another thing that s*cks, not being allowed to do training post-surgery. Cause usually, as much as plenty rich food, nice air, decent sleep (and a few more things I won't go into right here), regular workouts and running is just what I need. Cause, as in the last 15 or so years learned the hard way, generally I feel way better when in shape.

Besides, in the meantime else wouldn't really last long enough for some activities I definitely like (and also would like to enjoy for a while longer). Cause, as I understand and also witness both on me and on others, the human body is constructed for a lifespan of maybe 30 years, then it's just done and starts decaying, and if you don't want entropy down on you real fast, better try keeping let's say at least in the rest of the shape you still got left.

So, call me a body-, fitness-, or whatever-fascist-you-like or not, though of course sometimes having to kinda force me doing so continously (and well, don't even always succeed), all in all I definitely like doing something for my body, too (also for some special reasons outlined here).

And on the other hand don't have too much sympathy or consideration for people neglecting their health as consistently as always going like, 'Ouch, me back! Me knees!' etc. (Still, seldom fails putting a smile on my face.)

(continued ...)

Social Pressure (Bodyfascist Pt. 5)

In all their fully grown splendour and glory ...

London, a few days before 1st surgery.
© Guy Smallman 2006

From a strictly medical point of view, there's no actual reason to remove the lumps. I.e. they're no threat to my health, and even less to my life expectancy. I only have to take care to avoid them and the rest of my head getting too cold, especially in winter, since they've very poor circulation. And also trying to keep them from becoming inflamed, rsp. regularly checking on that.

Funny enough, medical trouble encountered only by trying to get rid of them, in connection with the 2nd round of surgery, but never by the lumps themselves. Which -- if I'm lucky -- after 1, 2, 3 more sessions of slitting and grafting eventually will be more or less sorted (but with the rest of the lumps still remaining to be removed somehow).

Ok, in the last years they began growing faster exponentionally, so partly started becoming less practical or sometimes even getting in the way. Frankly also liked the look of them better when they were still small and cuddly.

But besides that, myself I had no further problems with them, in contrary.

That I'm eager to get rid of them now is mostly for social reasons: Cause virtually everybody else seems having a huge problem with them (and then in the end also with me). Obviously having the cheek of getting myself these things grown and then even showing them automatically revoking my right of being treated as a full fledged fellow member of the human race or something.

A long time frankly didn't care too much about all of that (to say the least). Probably not being the overly social type anyway. Not to mention not having a specially high opinion of most people.

Though in recent years got the impression them lumps beginning more and more to define my relations with whomever I meet, as long as I'm not submitting to mandatorily wearing a camo (though that's in many cases only postponing it). Means me anticipating their rejection and treating them accordingly before they even expressed it. Which of course can easily turn into a self-fulfilling prophecy rsp. a vicious circle.

So eventually got to the point where I thought probably wouldn't actually do me really good just stubbornly going on, insisting on this being simply the way God, Nature or whatever created me -- and f**k about the rest and especially everybody who's got a problem with that. The more since I can just have them cut off more or less easily -- or at least that's what the doctors said ...

Ok, there's also special situations, where I can potentially (and actually) still feel hurt personally. Like meeting this special girl again, and she smiles at me, too -- but not anymore when realising what's exactly under my magic cap.

So, after a long and heroic struggle against society's unwritten laws and most of its members' inherent stupidity, eventually decided to give in and finally submit to the social pressure (shame on me). So here I am, eagerly doing whatever necessary in order to humbly conform to the oh-so-beloved average norm visually. And live happily ever after. Yessir!

However, still with a bit of a bad conscience.

Actually never felt more guilty of being a body fascist than when going over to the beautyfarm having cut off the first one. (Even kinda prayed for forgiveness for doing so. Perhaps should have done that a lot more before going for the 2nd round of surgery ...)

So in order to come to better terms with my bad conscience and trying to get the whole thing more clear, eventually roused myself to start this blog.

Not to mention I seem having a flair for such dubious kinda projects 'at the border of the pathological' (as a State's Attorney once put it). Not to mention sharing my thoughts and experiences -- if not straightaway preaching to the ignorant rest of the world how to see the f**king light. Not to mention getting used as a human zoo, being talked about behind my back but not to my face etc.

Or at least that's my admittedly not specially high opinion of most people, based on experience. But hey, you can always prove me wrong ... or can't you?

(to be continued ...)

Ouch, that must('ve) hurt?!! (Bodyfascist Pt. 4)

Recently on my way to the surgeon. Catch the train, get me a seat on the upper floor, unpack the 2nd half of my breakfast. On the other side some girls chatting. Had to hurry getting the train from the bus stop, and it's pretty heated, so I take off the woolcap before I sweat too much.

They all go silent for a breath or two.

Or as a mate put it: 'The bigger the lumps, the bigger people's eyes.'

Indeed. Mouths too ...

Ok, maybe I'm biased, but frankly still seem to fail just getting it.

I mean, c'mon, never seen anything like it?!

And hey, even if so, what the f**ck is your problem?!!

Ok, won't say I never stared myself, especially as a kid -- but still doubt ever doing so like most I get on an average day (in case I don't submit to mandatory wearing camo or just ignoring people, that is).

Next to staring, would also plead guilty for having frowned sometimes, too, e.g. when seeing people with, uh, things on their heads or faces. Probably even looking a bit scared.

But you don't see it on the streets too much anyway, do you?

One thing that struck me in my life, was realising why.

Was this guy in Munich. It was winter, guess when I was 18, way before the lumps started growing. Met him the park, scoring smoke. Had refused military service, so was doing cummunity service. Working in a home.

A guy living there joined us in the kitchen. He had no real face no more. Just a really, really nasty, thick burning scar with nostrils, mouth and eyes. (Much worse than the guy at Monument.)

Ouch, that must've hurt!!!

Never seen anything like it then, not even in a movie.

No way to look at him neutrally, like at other people, at least for the first moment.

Till I realised that at least the flesh had healed as well as it could, and that the actual pain must have stopped a long time ago, and that indulging probably wouldn't help either. Besides, smoked and talked just like everybody else at the table.

That was when I realised why you don't see such things on the street:

Cause they stay inside these homes.

Remained the other question: WHY DO THEY STAY IN THERE AND DON'T GO OUT? Cause wasn't like there were any bars, locks, official Verbote or something.

So why did he prefer to stay in there like it was a prison???

Frankly didn't get it for many, many years. Still having trouble fully accepting it today.

Ok, also remember sometimes having seen other things every couple of years, marks 'n' stuff, where it's not so really clear, if it must('ve) hurt a lot or perhaps not (like also e.g. mine), but still the question in my mind alone made me frown, before I could help myself eventually.

In the meantime, of course I'm much more hardboiled and virtually unshakable. (Haw, haw.)

Actually, whenever I saw kids looking at the lumps questioningly, quickly told them, 'No, doesn't hurt, just looks strange'.

Which, I admit, it does, too.

(Still, if you got any other problems with this matter, probably better start asking yourself about the however little or giant bodyfascist inside your own self. And, as Dennis Hopper used to say in Davis Lynch's 'Blue Velvet': Don't you f**king look at me!)

PS: Which just reminded me, sometimes actually used telling people at parties, 'Don't look!' Though far from 'Blue Velvet'-style, but rather the party-volume equivalent of 'Erm, you're standing on my toes, would you please mind ...'

Still perfectly did the trick, people suddenly turning away, looking guilty like kids getting catched with their hands inside the candy box ...)

continue 'Body Fascist' ... ........ continue 'Quit staring will ya?' ...

'So, are you a fascist or yes?' (Bodyfascist Pt. 3)

Ok, guess there might be some PC-people out there already screaming bloody murder for me using the F-word so lighty without some huge piles of dead bodies with a yellow star sewn to their striped shirts being involved first.

Well, I'm aware (like I mentioned before) that this blog's title's somewhat provocative by intention. And I'd also agree that (too) excessive use of the F-word doesn't actually benefit the cause.

The reason why I'm still deliberately using it here, is that I'm convinced that the underlying theme of these postings, i.e. the experience of not being thoroughly accepted or even openly rejected just for not fitting the average visual norm, rsp. the incentive of people (as said to a certain extent also including myself) for doing so, indeed DOES have a common root with what came historically to be known as fascism and it's multiple predecessors and heirs.

Now, I'm nevertheless afraid probably there might still remain more than enough hardcore PC-people feeling the urge to put me straight into the oven for such blasphemies (or at least sentencing me to Schreibverbot for life).

If so, and by chance this might apply to you -- frankly, no one is forcing you to read on, and even more frankly, I'll not be too sad if you just sod off right now.

Cause having said all this, what I'm rather gonna do concerning this topic, is getting more specific about what above I called this blog's underlying theme and the common roots, than arguing any more about Personal Computers, ok?

(to be continued ...)

'Now, are you really a bodyfascist?' (Pt. 2)

Nah, course not, only the others, what'd ya think?!

(And even if I was, really thought I'd admit it, stoopid?)

Ok, seriously now. For me, think it's bit the same like with the other erm-don't-be-offended-but-can-I-ask-you-something-question I'm sometimes confronted by (though not as often as by the obvious one).

Like, did you ever sleep with men?

Actually the same ex-girlfriend who later asked me the bodyfascist-question also had asked me this too (after having asked me the obvious one first, of course).

My reply was, if she knew the song by Allen Ginsberg that starts with the following two lines:

Everybody's just a little bit homosexual,
whether they like it or not.

Cause well, no denying that, but then, that's about as far as it goes for me -- and also concerning being a body fascist. (For the record, I'm aware that in virtually all other aspects these two things aren't comparable.)

So, if I had to answer by a simple Yes or No, I'd still opt for the No without having a bad conscience.

But if there's the possibility to give a little bit more discriminating answer, I'm stoopid enough to admit that there's a little body fascist inside me -- like probably in everybody else, too.

(to be continued ...)

'Matty, are you a bodyfascist?' (Pt. 1)

Never had heard the term until my then-girlfriend asked me the above question.

The reason was that once again I'd been complaining about having put on some fat (ok, only a little bit actually) cause of some medicine I had to swallow for some years plus mentioning that I'll be glad getting rid of it again as soon as I'd be able to eventually come off it completely.

Guess actually she'd rather been self-conscious about her own love handles, though frankly that never had been an issue with me. (Though even I'd agree that most things do have limits, actually in contrary never had a preference for anorexic women, but that -- amongst less material aspects -- is a topic I'll probably come back to later.) So just told her so and also no, didn't think I was a body fascist either, and that was it.

But somehow the term and it's implications stuck to my mind and kept me thinking, eventually leading to this blog's admittedly somewhat provocative title.

Besides continously confronting myself with the question if rsp. to which extent this cathegory might fit to my own self, soon also started considering other people's behaviour and reactions towards physical anomalies, since well, obviously that's something I have to deal with on a regular basis.

(to be continued ...)