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62 pages 2 hours read

Kiese Laymon

Heavy

Nonfiction | Autobiography / Memoir | Adult | Published in 2018

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Symbols & Motifs

Food

The foods that Laymon binges on during the bulimic phases of his eating disorder often carry a lot of symbolic weight. Consider, for instance, the peanut butter and preserves he eats during the first binge he describes in detail. On the day of this binge, he’s witnessed his young friend being sexually abused by an older boy; he’s seen his weeping mother nursing a black eye from her violent boyfriend; he’s heard his mother and that boyfriend having make-up sex. He turns his pain and hatred inward onto his own body and reaches for foods that both comfort and obstruct. Peanut butter clogs his throat, keeping back the secrets he can’t tell; pear preserves, made by his grandmother, connect him to the love and safety he can’t find at home.

Laymon’s choice of binge foods is similarly symbolically powerful after Nzola breaks off their relationship. Laymon goes around to all the trash cans in his dorm and scavenges discarded pizza slices: abased, rejected food. Here, in a more-literal-than-usual sense, Laymon is eating his feelings.

Food, in Heavy, works in tandem with powerful images of weight. As discussed in the “Themes” section above, weight can be to do with the concealment of pain or the solidity of a whole. Food, similarly, has the power to carry consolation and nourishment; it’s shame that turns it into a deceptive punishment, promising consolation and delivering pain.

Grandmama's Head Wound

When Laymon’s grandmother is taken to the hospital with a gangrenous head wound, Laymon is appalled at her treatment: she screams for mercy as a doctor cuts deep into her scalp. “I knew,” Laymon writes, “but didn’t want to admit, why Grandmama was screaming, why the black doctor with the dry red Afro didn’t give her enough anesthetic, why he thought cutting a full inch and a half deep into the back of her scalp was for her own good” (169). Laymon’s grandmother is expected, as Black women in general are expected, to bear pain; the myth of Black women’s resilience perpetuates the idea that she can take it.

Laymon’s grandmother’s injury is to her head: the seat of thought and self-perception. And notably, she has been concealing this injury under her wig. Like Laymon, she has learned that she needs to keep her pain to herself, covering it up with a socially-acceptable disguise. Like Laymon, she’s pushed into deeper and more lasting misery by the cultural pressure to pretend the initial wound isn’t there.

Gambling and Casinos

In Heavy, the casino serves as an image for America itself: a glittering palace of deceptive promise. In America as in a casino, the system claims to offer easy and fabulous success to all comers. But that system is rigged, unbeatable. It’s easy—and tempting—to lose everything in trying to extract the rewards the system promises.

The deceptiveness of casinos also plays into Laymon’s interest in honesty and dishonesty more generally. For example, consider his catalogue of “freebies”: “I used the ‘points’ or comps I’d accumulated losing money to buy what amounted to free eight-thousand-dollar casino Pumas, free three-thousand-dollar casino dresses, free fourteen-hundred-dollar casino T-shirts, and free two-thousand-dollar seats to see Beyoncé, Kanye, Jigga, Sade, Prince, and Janelle Monáe” (216-17). Casino “gifts” have the same dazzle and false comfort as the lies that Laymon insists he will no longer tell.

Laymon’s and his mother’s shared gambling addiction is a manifestation of their shared addiction to deceit, born of their struggles to stay under the radar of a racist system.

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