Rant & Ramble
Proudly Fat, Happy, and Black
‘How to Die Alone’ is a singular attack on loneliness, fatphobia, and anti-Blackness.
Last year, the group chat with eight friends became a breakout room for only plus-size girlies looking forward to a show about us. When it comes to celebrating Black women, there are no preferences. We celebrate all shades, sizes, and culturally unique representations of Black women. However, something is satisfying and necessary about seeing a Black, plus-size woman on-screen boldly designing her own life.
While any television show depicting the richness of Black women’s experiences without requiring them to sacrifice themselves for the people they love catches our attention, a series or film about fat, happy[ish] Black women goes to the top of our watchlist. Whether it is Jill Scott and Michelle Buteau in First Wives Club, rewatching Queen Latifah at the top of her game as an editor and publisher on Living Single, or protecting innocence in The Equalizer. We don’t play about big, Black women wielding their magic for good, or joyfully messy endeavors.
‘How to Die Alone’ follows Mel (Rothwell), a broke, fat, Black JFK airport employee who’s never been in love and forgotten how to dream.
Phone notifications included a series of BBW (Big Beautiful Women) GIFs, dings, and loud animated sounds reminding everyone when new episodes of our new favorite show became available on Hulu. You know the one I’m talking about…
In September 2024, ‘How to Die Alone’ came out of nowhere while tenderly asking and answering the annual query, “What the hell am I doing with my life?” To clarify, this show isn’t only for the quarter-life crisis girlies fresh out of college or trade school. This storyline was for women. The three career pathways later, after dating the same person twice — on accident — I can’t afford to freeze my eggs, and suddenly wondering if a history of chronic illness is hereditary and going to show up on their next health screening, women.
The character arcs in this series are for women who have been on the ‘strongest soldier’ list for too many years and are searching for an escape into their dreams.
Most of us have searched for answers to questions like, “Am I doing life wrong?” for years, but the question has carried a particularly pungent, decaying stench since we began the new timeline marker, ATP (after the pandemic). I initially thought this was a terrible show to watch so soon and during the election last year. With at least 3 million global deaths attributable to the COVID-19 pandemic in 2020, it seems self-centered to complain about our lives when we are alive. Still, the various ways we experience suffering daily need their moment of lament alongside our gratitude for the opportunity to savor a crab rangoon.
I’ll do my best to discuss the series without giving too many spoilers. Still, one random, accidental experience influences Mel’s understanding of death and transition into redefining her life.
Approximately 20% to 30% of adults in the U.S. report feeling lonely on a regular basis, with some reports indicating that 50% of adults experience loneliness. In 2023, the U.S. Surgeon General declared a “loneliness epidemic,” with Gallup estimating that 52 million adults still struggle with it. (American Psychiatric Association, 2024)
*SPOILER ALERT*
While alone on her birthday, Mel is eating food in her apartment after putting together a wardrobe she purchased when the wardrobe falls on top of her, knocking her unconscious. The close encounter with death urges the 30-something-year-old from mediocrity to take charge of her romantic life and career. When considering the immediacy of our mortality and presence of loneliness, Natasha Rothwell wrote this series, “…to write a show that explores how to do that if you’re not going to be partnered in this lifetime because [those were] the cards you drew.” The show is a consequence of her experiences and recent revelations in therapy, but echoes the sentiments many people have been wrestling with for decades. In an era when connection is in our grasp, many people feel lonelier than ever. The people we believed would offer us endless support are quickly moving beyond our fingertips.
Despite having friendships that have existed for years or being in a long-term partnership, loneliness can often be the silent third wheel in relationships. Whether trust has been broken or insecurities threaten the bond between people, when in need, some people have no one to turn to, at least no one they are desperate enough to call. When Mel wakes in the hospital room, she confronts this and the unaddressed tension in relationships with her family and friends. After harsh confrontations with her brother and a close friend, she decides she needs to take control of her life. In later episodes, viewers watch her reclaim her life, steal a dying woman’s identity, and make messes in real time.
Rothwell’s pride in getting the show to the production phase was evident in her interviews about the show’s potential. In an LA Times interview she said, “I think that, in a post-strike world, when so many of these studios have purged their DEI [Diversity, Equity and Inclusion] executives, and the representation at those levels is dwindling, it is a wonder that the show was able to be made.” Rothwell's presence broke representation barriers as a single, Black, self-identified fat woman in Hollywood. She used her power as a creator and showrunner to foster access and equity for minorities.
Even with only eight episodes under her belt, Rothwell ushered in a season of internal liberation for viewers that was missing. Many people experience loneliness, underestimate their worth, and question whether their life has meaning. The storyline isn’t new, but it is rarely told earnestly. Not only do we watch Mel make mistakes, but we also see her come to terms with the insecurities we all face at some point. We chase the wrong partners. We sabotage opportunities we don’t believe we deserve. We betray ourselves. And, we avoid setting boundaries with family members and accepting boundaries set by our friends. We hide truths that disrupt our cocoon of delusion, which safeguards our minds from accepting responsibility for being wrong, being a co-creator of our suffering, and being vulnerable. This show unlocked awareness in a format that encouraged delightful curiosity.
Finding out that this show was canceled evoked dramatic language like 'devastating,' because we lost a witness who didn’t just invite us to laugh, but empowered us to dare to heal amid our suffering. Not because our dream rescued us, but because we chose to create a new dream. The messiness of decision-making, the hidden pain of grieving, and the risk of sharing love don’t discourage our pursuit of healing and recovery. In that truth, we find hope through Rothwell’s writing and the character Mel’s experience.
However tragic our everyday struggles may be, we get to cry over heartbreak, bemoan our jobs and toddlers' picky eating habits, love staying in our homes, and desperately wish for a fabulous lifestyle. We get to cry about everything. Doing so is what makes us human. But when we are done. We must look within and ask, “Now what?” or, better yet, “Who do I want to be?” Questioning the future allows us to be curious about our lives and address any fears that stem from our brokenness. Rather than searching for a cure that fixes us and returns us to the root of what we believe is our identity, we should learn to embrace relational prefixes that alter our living, meaning, and create new worlds. — Like Terrance’s sharing his food and helping Mel feel comfortable on an airplane, while realizing he loved and wanted her.
In short, Natasha Rothwell is unequaled, and if the story of Mel doesn’t continue on screen, the children of the ragoon — cause sometimes this world feels like a horror story — will continue to strive to love deeply, dream fearlessly, and recover unhesitatingly. Her work is a witness to the beautiful journey to healing our intuition and repairing our soul. We are eternally grateful to return to the canon-bound series again and again for hope and joy.
