"Calmada" (Spanish for calm) was one of the very first lines I read when I opened Dead Weight, a graphic novel by writers Terry Blas and Molly Muldoon and illustrator Matthew Seely. But calm was one of the things I wasn't because I was so excited to see a story beginning with representation of people of color. I didn't hold my breath for too long, though. Surely, this character would end up secondary or tertiary in some way, I thought to myself. Not just as a person of color, but as a character identified as female, too.
Fortunately, Dead Weight shatters every expectation I've have of modern Western media. A murder-mystery story about a diverse group of high school-aged adolescents attending a weight loss summer camp and banding together to survive, this book is pleasantly surprising in many ways. There are no glaring stereotypes made at the expense of any group of people, regardless of their backgrounds or identities. In fact, Blas and Muldoon are so skilled in their storytelling abilities that they are able to highlight diversity, culture, and intersectional identity in several ways and in several instances without having the story skip any beats. This is just one of the many reasons that Dead Weight is deserving of praise.
Body image and dysmorphia are at the forefront of much of the narrative. And it might be difficult initially for individuals who have ever struggled with their body image, and in particular their body shape, size, or weight. However, the book does an incredible job of not only presenting leads of various shapes and sizes, but also provides some truly heartfelt moments where the reader bears witness to the specific plights of some of these characters, which oftentimes arise at intersections of the various facets of their identities.
More specifically, matters of race, class, sexual orientation, and gender identity are all given attention. Several heroes emerge as the narrative unfolds, and ultimately we are left with a quartet of protagonists and more than double that in supporting characters, all from immensely diverse backgrounds. One of this story's greatest strengths, aside from blessing the reader with a plethora of representation, is that the identities and backgrounds of all of these individuals are not treated as simple veneers meant to satisfy some sort of diversity quota. Rather, the story specifically addresses how each character's intersectional identity impacts and shapes them, strengthens them, but also contribute to barriers they face, in learning to love their bodies and beyond.
Of course, one of the most salient barriers these characters face is prejudice. Dead Weight excels in highlighting several examples of prejudice that negatively affect most -- of not all -- of the characters and fundamentally alter their individual story threads. In one particular instance, it is revealed that one of the lead camp counselors, drawn as a larger woman of color, has had complaints filed against her by parents who have questioned her capability to be a good role model based solely on her body size. What particularly drives this point home, like a stake through the heart, is that these are the same parents who have sent their child to this camp and one must wonder what other awful things this child has heard at home, not only about others, but about themselves, as well.
In another drawn scene, a QT-identifying (and more thinly-drawn) character expresses that they are "gay fat," distinguishing the idea that even within the LGBTQ communities, where so many of us are seeking shelter from the crushing injustices of the heteronormative world at large, we risk finding other forms discrimination and oppression unique to our communities.
At other points, Blas and Muldoon highlight some of the societal pressures put specifically on womxn by telling the stories of female-identified characters who have difficulties accepting that others can see past their bodies. In one particularly painful example, a young female-identified character is explicitly told to lose 15 pounds in order for a potential male-identified partner to begin dating her. It's important to note that the man that does this is himself struggling with accepting his sexuality, again illuminating the ways in which cycles of prejudice, discrimination, and oppression are perpetuated, even by those who have been on the receiving end of such treatment.
Perhaps the greatest thing about Dead Weight is that, alongside the attention paid to the aforementioned social issues and struggles, there just as many positive and optimistic moments are seamlessly woven into the narrative. It's much more than just a tale of self-acceptance. It's a story of bravery, friendship, and community too. It demonstrates how, in our diversity and our adversity, one of our greatest powers is to band together to lift each other up. Yes, that sounds incredibly sappy. But by the end of this book, most readers will come to realize that our heroes' greatest worry goes beyond the threat of a killer in their midst. If anything, it helps us realize that we should be more concerned about the global and societal threats that led to the characters being there, in the first place. And not just for their sakes, but ultimately, for our own.