This story is taken from the autumn 2026 issue of Dazed, which is on sale internationally from September 10. Order a copy of the magazine here.
“Your body is a battleground.” These are the words that American media artist Barbara Kruger chose to overlay on a silkscreen of a woman’s face in 1989. At the time, a string of anti-abortion laws had begun to undermine Roe v. Wade (sound familiar?). The sentiment resonated and has remained. Throughout history, artists and thinkers have evoked wartime imagery to describe the way the human body, especially for women or other marginalised groups, becomes a site for shifting ideological, political and cultural ideas. The fight for body autonomy has been, and will continue to be, one for systemic liberation.
Today, there’s a disorienting number of attacks on the body happening in the US and across the world, from reproductive freedom and trans liberation to disability justice and size inclusivity. While laws are being passed making access to abortion substantially more restrictive, the Supreme Court is making rulings that strip back the rights of trans Americans, while people at immigration detention facilities face physical abuse and Black women face reproductive racism. The list goes on.
All of the rollbacks on bodily rights – past, present and future – are strategic attempts at control. This permeates far beyond courtrooms and bills into every corner of culture, where bodies are shrinking on the runway, beauty standards are backsliding into ultra-conservative ideas, and the elimination of DEI practices has allowed brands making even the most feeble of inclusivity attempts to give up the charade. Imagining an alternative, a world where the body is free from the constant comparison to a combat zone, then, means ensuring body liberation for all.
Bodily autonomy is for everyone–even those who don’t yet view themselves as impacted by the current administration’s rollback of rights. Each issue is interconnected with the others, just as our bodies themselves are complex, interdependent systems. No single part functions or thrives in isolation. These New York-based US body activists – whose work spans disability and trans rights, gun violence prevention, size inclusivity and more – know this better than most.
LORELEI CREAN
As executive director of NYC Youth 4 Trans Rights, 19-year-old Lorelei Crean has been protesting since they were a baby. Their parents brought them to Occupy Wall Street while they were still in a stroller, and down to the Women’s March in DC in 2017. But it wasn’t until Donald Trump’s second term, when they showed up to a rally for trans youth, that they started to focus on trans activism. “I was the only trans youth there, so they stuck me up on stage to be the poster child,” they say. Crean’s moment on stage catapulted them to the forefront of trans youth advocacy while they were still at high school. Last year, they spoke about gender-affirming care with Zohran Mamdani during his campaign for New York mayor. “I’m proud to be in the position to advocate for my community,” they say, “talking to people who [can] enact real change.” Crean isn’t taking their platform lightly–they are going to study politics at Oberlin College and are committed to speaking up for all marginalised communities, including immigrants and those impacted by the climate crisis. “So many of the causes I’m fighting for are intersectional with the fight for trans rights,” they say.
LEE PHILLIPS
For writer and filmmaker Lee Phillips, the diaries of teenage girls can be a powerful form of resistance. “Anne Frank’s diary is an incredible example of this,” says the 29-year-old, who is based in New York. “We’re in the time of the overturning of Roe v. Wade and the manosphere, and teen girls have never been protected by this country.” Phillips started scanning and collaging teenage girls’ diaries in 2015. At the time, she didn’t know what she wanted to be, but had an intense respect and admiration for her fellow teens. She co-founded an event called Girl Power Meetups, and since then her work has evolved to become a bigger anthology about young women’s art. “It’s about reclaiming something that has been historically trivialised,” she says. For Phillips, the diary has been undercelebrated as a literary format. Through her Girls Together archive, which will be collected in a book, she repositions it to be something she’s always found in her own journal: a place of hope. “I remember being 13 and sitting in front of a blank page, thinking, ‘This is where my life is happening,’” she says. “What makes me so hopeful is that we’re still the women who wrote those diaries–we were girls together and still are.” (LP)
VICTORIA
In 2023, Victoria, a 26-year-old who goes by “FatFabFeminist” online, testified at City Hall in support of New York’s landmark bill prohibiting discrimination based on weight and height. “I was the face of fat New Yorkers,” they say. Victoria hoped that the bill would inspire a wave of action across the country. “But as soon as that bill passed, I feel like the tide shifted into this current ‘thin is in’ era.” The child of immigrant parents from Bulgaria and Egypt, Victoria grew up between Staten Island in New York and South Florida– two deeply conservative environments. By high school, she became known as the “crazy feminist”. Always an internet kid, Victoria found community online, first posting about politics and body positivity as a teenager. “My social media has always been a place where I could go to be the person that I needed to see when I was growing up,” they say. This year, Victoria graduated from NYU with a master’s in body politics. What keeps them motivated during this moment in the US is the private messages they get: ones like “because of you, I went to the beach”. “No matter where the world is, if I get one person who has been helped by my words or my platform, that will be enough,” they say. (LP)
JORDAN UNDERWOOD
Growing up in Boston as a “fat child who was in the performing arts”–opera and musical theatre specifically–Jordan Underwood’s relationship with their body started on shaky ground. “Dealing with so much anti-fatness in my childhood and adolescence really served as a crash course in self-advocacy and gave me an insatiable desire to be seen, which I think has manifested in my career,” they say. At the age of 12, Underwood started a blog, People Call Me Fat, where they would post about their experience being bullied for their weight. It set the foundation for a career as a body liberation activist, advocating for all bodies to be respected and celebrated. Underwood became an even more committed advocate when they were diagnosed with lipedema in 2023, a chronic medical condition that is often missed due to medical weight bias. After over a decade of digital advocacy, the 30-year-old balances online education with offline community spaces, co‐hosting New York’s annual Fat Beach Day and teaching size‐inclusive dance fitness classes. “My goal is to do what I’ve always done, which is to show up as authentically as I can,” they say. (LP)
CAMRYN GARRETT
As an isolated teenager growing up on Long Island in New York, books saved Camryn Garrett. That’s partly why, around the same time, she began to write them herself. Garrett was just 18 when she published her debut novel, Full Disclosure, a story about a teenage girl living with HIV. Since then, the now 26-year-old’s work has continued to deal with difficult subject matter, tackling everything from the #MeToo movement to coming-out stories. Despite this, Garrett’s characters aren’t defined by their struggles. “Because I’m writing for young people, I don’t want things to be super bleak,” she says. “I want them to feel hopeful and empowered and invigorated, because that’s how I felt when I was reading as a teen.” That desire touches all aspects of her work, from the writing itself to the cover designs; when it came to choosing the cover for her second book, Garrett’s message to her publisher was clear: “I want her to be visibly fat.” At a time when queer and POC stories are under attack, Garrett’s commitment to showing readers their own power is unwavering: “I want the characters I write to be conductors of their own story.” (IB)
ISABEL MAVRIDES-CALDERÓN
Isabel Mavrides-Calderón was 11 years old when she suffered a spinal injury which led to doctors discovering she had a physically disabling medical condition. But as a woman of colour, her pain wasn’t taken seriously, and it took years to get a proper diagnosis. “It showed me a side of the medical system I didn’t know existed,” says the now 21-year-old, who has since become a disability rights advocate. From her Columbia University dorm room, the college senior posts TikToks shedding light on underreported attacks on disabled rights. “The reason a lot of policy changes is because of public outrage, but that doesn’t happen with disability rights because there isn’t this civic importance placed on it,” says Mavrides-Calderón. “I think disability is often used as a barometer for governments to see how far they can get away with dehumanising people.” Offline, the young advocate is pursuing a career at the intersection of immigrant education and disability rights. As disenfranchised populations are more vulnerable to disabilities and health problems, it’s a joint interest that that embodies her ethos: “Disability doesn’t exist in a vacuum.” (IB)
ANDREA GONZALES
Andrea Gonzales was a senior in high school when a school shooting in Parkland, Florida took the lives of 14 students and three staff members in 2018. Like many young people at the time, the born-and-raised New Yorker joined a school walkout, a protest against gun violence that would become the first of many acts of resistance she would partake in. Today, Gonzales’ advocacy takes place through her work with New Yorkers Against Gun Violence, a non-profit for which the 25-year-old serves as deputy director of education. In this role, she works with high schoolers who have experienced gun violence firsthand, whether in their communities or at their actual schools. Though Gonzales came of age during an era when tragedy felt inescapable, she is working towards a different future for the young people she mentors, who inspire her to keep going. “Young people are the living embodiment of hope,” she says. “Even if I don’t see an end to gun violence in my lifetime, I hope that [my students] continue to build something bigger than I could have ever imagined... It’s about planting little seeds.” (IB)
SOPHIA PHILLIPS
In trying times, bringing new life into the world may feel even more daunting than usual. And yet, people like Sophia Phillips remain optimistic about what that process can represent. “I think that having a baby during this time is actually very beautiful, and can be a very radical thing,” says the 29-year-old. That sense of perspective is crucial in Phillips’ line of work – as a doula, they support people emotionally and physically throughout major life transitions, including birth. “I don’t come into someone’s pregnancy with any kind of agenda other than really understanding who they are as individuals and providing them with the resources and care that they deserve,” says Phillips. Their dedication to bodily autonomy also shows up in their work as a somatic practitioner, which involves helping people understand how trauma impacts the body. In a country where seeking healthcare can be a harrowing experience, Phillips is focused on providing people with choice. “The overarching mission of the work that I do is to remind people that they have options, that it’s their body and their baby, and that they can choose what feels best for them.” (IB)