The Big Loser: Racism and the Unfight against Health Disparities

The Big Loser: 

Racism and the Unfight against Health Disparities

by David J. Leonard | special to NewBlackMan

Having just completed its 11^th season, The Biggest Loser is changing the national landscape.  The question, however, is how is the show transforming society.  According to JD Roth, one of producer of The Biggest Loser and one of the newest weight loss shows – Extreme Makeover: Weight Loss Edition – argues that these shows are on the frontlines of the battle against systemic obesity: “The first step to changing some systemic problem in society is awareness and I think (weight) awareness is at an all-time high.”

While unsuccessful in initiating a weight loss revolution, the show has been successful in revolutionizing television.  The success and cultural capital afford to The Biggest Loser (its not just a show but a public service trope) has generated several copycat shows including The Biggest Loser in twenty-one countries.  Each of these shows universalize the issue of obesity erasing fissures, divisions, and inequalities.  More importantly, these shows reduce the issue of weight and health to a matter of choice. “All borrow a basic set of assumptions from “The Biggest Loser” writes Aaron Barnhart. “Obesity is largely a product of inertia, of spending too much time sitting around eating terrible food. The cure, therefore, is activity — lots of it, with occasional breaks to make healthy meals and visits to the confession-cam.”  David Grazian, in “Neoliberalism and the Realities of Reality Television,” describes The Biggest Loser as yet another reality-based show that pivots on the tenets of neoliberalism:

Although the very design of competitive reality programs . . . guarantees that nearly all players must lose, such shows inevitably emphasize the moral failings of each contestant just before they are deposed.  In such instances, the contributions of neoliberal federal policy to increased health disparities in the U.S.— notably the continued lack of affordable and universal health care, and cutbacks in welfare payments to indigent mothers and their children—are ignored in favor of arguments that blame the victims of poverty for own misfortune.

Writing about another reality show, Master Chef, Evan Shartwen argues that reality shows and the economic philosophy of neoliberalism (defined by its promotion of “free markets, economic liberalisation, efficiency, consumer choice and individual autonomy”) share a mutual “emphasis on personal development and learning new skills.”

The popularity and interest in The Biggest Loser, as a non-state capitalist intervention against a national health crisis, reflects the extent of America’s collective weight issues. The numbers are telling. 34% of adults are obese with another 34% in the overweight category.  For kids, things are equally troubling with 18% of kids ages 12-19 and 20% of those ages 6-11 defined as overweight.

This issue is particularly acute within the black and Latino communities.  Nationally, 38.2 and 35.9 percent of African American and Latino youth, ages 2-19, are obese and overweight, compared to 29.3 percent of whites within this same age group. In nine states, adult obesity for African Americans exceeds 40 percent with that number between 35-39.99% for 34 states. 

“Strikingly, the link between race, poverty and obesity is most acute in the South, our nation’s most impoverished region” writes Angela Glover Blackwell.  “In Mississippi, which has an African American population of more than 37 percent and is the poorest state in the country, the obesity rate is the highest of any state, as is the proportion of obese children ages 10-17.” Worse yet, despite attention and a national discourse, the obesity issue doesn’t seem to be getting better, especially when we look within (poor) communities of color.  Between 1986 and 1998, childhood obesity rates within the African American and Latino communities increased by almost 120 percent, whereas whites only saw an increase of 50 percent over this same period. According to the NAACP, “these rates have roughly doubled since 1980.”  It has been estimated that roughly 60 percent of Native Americans living in urban communities are overweight or obese. 

While often erasing the inequalities and disparities evident in America’s obesity epidemic, the limited focus on differences in obesity rates tends to individualize and pathologize the issue within communities of color.  Often times, commentators focus on cultural differences, food choices, and varied definitions of body image to explain differential rates of obesity.  For example, in a recently released study from the Boston Public Health Commission, the issue of obesity amongst youth is directly tied to soda consumption.  It found that greatest levels of consumption of sugary, sweetened drinks are amongst poor black and Latino youth.  While certainly an issue (and one that reflects a myriad of issues from availability, advertisements, school reliance on soda monies), the hyper focus on food and drink consumption in relationship to personal choices limits our understanding of this issue.

Similarly, another ubiquitous theme has been how high rates television watching and video game play amongst youth of color contribute to high obesity rates.  “Research suggests that low-income and ethnic minority youth are disproportionately exposed to marketing activities,” writes Shiriki Kumanyika. “A Kaiser Foundation report found that among children eight to eighteen years old, ethnic minorities use entertainment media more heavily than majority youth do. African Americans and Hispanics spend significantly more time watching TV and movies and playing video games than do white youth.^”   A complex issue, the nature of the discourse pathologizes and restricts our focus to individual choices and experiences. 

The Biggest Loser is no different evident in the narrative focus on cultural acceptance of larger body types within certain Pacific Islander communities or even its linking of Tiger Moms to weight gain among a single contestant.  Yet, at a larger level the issues are presented as that of individuals who have made bad choices.  While rarely explicitly acknowledged, the show seems to have a disproportionate number of working-class white contestants, with a handful of people of color each season.  As such, the backdrop for the show is a white racial frame that tends to demonize the poor, particularly poor people of color.  The Biggest Loser, as with much of the discourse surrounding America’s obesity epidemic, tends to erase structural inequalities and segregation; it ignores how obesity rates and related health problems are a form of racial state violence. 

In erasing history, institutional (environmental) racism, segregation, and persistent inequality policy discussions, popular culture representations and the public debate at large continues to blame poor communities for the issue of obesity by focusing on bad choices, parenting, and other factors that can be easily corrected.  As long as one follows the instructions of The Biggest Loser trainers to workout harder, eat better food (including their endless products placed within the show) and otherwise change their ways, people have the potential to be healthy.  That is the lesson of the show. Not in reality.

According to Silja Talvi in “Bearing the Burden: Why are communities of color facing obesity and diabetes at epidemic levels”: “Over 60 percent of all Americans are now overweight, and experts agree that fast food, television, office jobs, lack of fresh fruits and vegetables in school lunches, and genetic factors have all conspired to make Americans of all ages fatter. But for people of color and poor people, the issues are even more complex and far-reaching.”  Studies have consistently illustrated that when accounting for class and circumstances, the discrepancies in rates of obesity between whites and blacks and Latinos are virtually nonexistent.  The Washington State Department of health found that racial discrepancies here are lessened when controlling for income, education, age, and gender, although inequalities remain a reality.  Yet, the inequalities exist, demonstrating the ways in which segregation, history, privilege, and a myriad of other factors operate in the context of these health issues. “Some of the intervening factors that affect obesity rates in Hispanic and black communities include eating patterns and accessibility to healthy food options, notes Sonia Sekhar in “The Significance of Childhood Obesity in Communities of Color.”  

Studies ubiquitously illustrate the segregation has effectively cut off poor communities of color from affordable healthy food. Scholars in Australia found individuals living in poor communities have 2.5 times more contact with fast food restaurants than those living in upper-class communities.  Equally important, the report highlighted that these stores sell a very limited amount of fresh fruit, vegetables and meat, providing ample processed food.   According to John Robbins, people of color are more likely to find foods that are high in fat, salt, refined carbohydrates and sugar compared to whole grains, fresh vegetables and fruits, and organic foods which are difficult if not impossible to procure within many poor urban communities.  A North Carolina study concluded that only 8 percent of black residents lived in close proximity to a supermarket compared to 31 percent of whites.  Another study in North Carolina found that the mere presence of at least one supermarket within black neighborhoods had a positive influence on the reducing fat intake (25 increase versus 10 percent for white neighborhoods). And it isn’t just about the type of foods, but the cost as well.

The Healthy Foods Healthy Communities report found that on average those smaller convenience stores/gas stations/corner markets that are commonplace within America’s urban centers charge between 10-49 percent higher than chain supermarkets.   A study in Great Britain from Food Magazine found that eating healthier costs at least 50% more, a number that increases to 60% when looking at poor communities. 

Food insecurity and the lack of access to quality and healthy foods are not the only evidence of how racial inequality contributes to and is evident in America’s obesity epidemic.  It is equally visible in thinking about recreation, leisure, and play.  Research has shown that people of color and particularly lower-income communities have fewer opportunities for physical activity.  For example, several studies published within the American Journal of Preventive Medicine (AJPM) found “that unsafe neighborhoods, poor design and a lack of open spaces and well constructed parks make it difficult for children and families in low-income and minority communities to be physically active.”  Likewise, citing the study from Trust for America’s Health (TFAH) and the Robert Wood Johnson Foundation (RWJF) entitled “F as in Fat: How Obesity Threatens America’s Future 2010” Blackwell focuses on the structural impediments to a healthy lifestyle that includes exercise.  “As the report illustrates, where we live, learn, work and play has absolutely everything to do with how we live. Low-income families of color are too often disconnected from the very amenities conducive to leading healthier lives, such as clean air, safe parks, grocery stores with fresh fruits and vegetables, and affordable, reliable transportation options that offer access to those parks and supermarkets.”

Robin D.G. Kelley described this predicament in “Playing for Keeps,” as part of structural adjustment programs and deindustrialization, processes that plague poor communities of color beginning in the 1970s.  “Play areas -- like much of the inner city -- have become increasingly fortified by steel fences, wrought-iron gates, padlocks, and razor sharp ribbon wire” (1998, p. 196). Noting that in cities like Cleveland and New York City, which each saw closure of between 40 and 50 million dollars worth of recreation facilities in the late 1970s, Kelley argues that play and spaces of recreation have increasingly only been accessible within middle-class (white) suburban communities.

We have witness a growing number of semipublic private spaces like 'people's parks' that require a key . . . and highly sophisticated indoor play area that charge admission.  The growth of these privatized spaces has reinforced a class segregated play world and created yet another opportunity for investors to profit from the general fear of crime and violence.  This, in the shadows of Central Park, Frederick Law Olmsed's great urban vision of class integration and public socialability, high-tech indoor playgrounds such as Wondercamp, Discovery Zone and Playspace, charge admission to eager middle- and upper-class children whose parents want a safe play environment . . . .  While these play areas are occasionally patronized by poor and working-class black children, the fact that most of these indoor playgrounds are built in well-to-do neighborhoods and charge an admission fee ranging between $5 and $9 dollars prohibits poor families from making frequent visits (1998, p. 202).

A study in Great Britain found not only that neighborhoods that are a majority white are 11 times more likely to have “green space” but also “that people's level of physical activity and health was directly related to affluence and the quality of green space.”

The consequences of restricting play to the well-to-do communities, of limiting access to recreation, and otherwise maintaining a system of de facto segregation when it comes to physical activity, are evident in the health disparities.   The consequences a system of food access determined by race, class, and geography is evident in the shameful health inequalities.  The consequences of a national conversation and policy about obesity guided by a neoliberal fantasy based on choice, values, and priorities are evident in not only disparities in weight numbers, but diabetes, hypertension and countless other diseases. According to Grazian, “On reality weight-loss programs, there are no collective solutions to rampant inequalities in wellness and health—say, an organized boycott of inner-city supermarkets that do not sell fresh yet inexpensive pro-duce—only individual moral failures that can be repaired by a belligerent drill sergeant, breaking down the souls of his charges in a televised theater of cruelty that lasts until the season finale.”  

The celebration of corporate interventions and the racially-charged backlash against Michelle Obama’s efforts to transform societal views on nutrition and exercise is an assault on “personal choice and responsibility” illustrate the power of shows like The Biggest Loser.  Profit generated and corporate driven programs to address the obesity epidemic, notwithstanding the lack of substantive results (improvement) are a fixture of a neoliberal society.  It is no wonder that The Biggest Loser is imagined as revolutionary. The obesity epidemic and the structural inequalities that are particularly threatening youth of color mandate structural changes not individual transformations fostered by the marketplace. 

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David J. Leonard is Associate Professor of Comparative Ethnic Studies at Washington State University, Pullman. He has written on sport, video games, film, and social movements, appearing in both popular and academic mediums.  His work explores the political economy of popular culture, examining the interplay between racism, state violence, and popular representations through contextual, textual, and subtextual analysis. He is the author of Screens Fade to Black: Contemporary African American Cinema and the forthcoming After Artest: Race and the War on Hoop (SUNY Press).