Let’s get real: some of us are still waiting for liberation inside spaces that claim to be free.

You know the spaces: Pride festivals where 'love is love' banners fly while fat bodies are ignored on the dance floor. Dating apps that post rainbow logos but filter us out. Progressive movements that talk about inclusion while side-eyeing us in strategy meetings.

Fat, trans, queer, femme, Black, brown, Indigenous, disabled—our bodies carry stories, wisdom, and resistance. But we also carry exhaustion from being told to shrink to fit even in spaces meant for freedom.

This isn’t a pity piece. This is a mirror, a question: what good is your liberation if it leaves us behind?

We spoke with people across Canada and the Caribbean who told us how fatphobia intersects with racism and transphobia in healthcare, how it shows up in queer organizing, how it slides into hookup culture with comments like 'no fats, no femmes.' They shared how community spaces become sites of body surveillance, and how the politics of palatability still rule who gets to lead, speak, and be desired.

But here’s what else they shared: moments of joy. Fat trans femmes leading the dance circle. Friends throwing parties where crop tops and softness are celebrated. Collective care pods where people check in on each other’s mental health, not their waistlines.

This piece is for fat folks who are tired of shrinking. It’s for allies who want to be real about what solidarity means. It’s for every queer person who wants liberation to be more than a slogan.

If your inclusion has a size limit, it’s not liberation. If your feminism has a BMI requirement, it’s not justice. If your Pride has a look requirement, it’s not pride.

It’s time to build movements that hold all of us, not just some of us. Because until fat liberation is part of the fight, the fight isn’t over.