I’m a 300-pound Black mermaid in America: Subculture of ‘Mermaiding’ is a real thing

While the rest of the world is arguing on social media, some folks prefer to live underwater. Three years ago, the transgender Filipina, Queen Pangke Tabora, revealed that she fulfilled a childhood wish by immersing herself in a world without fights and differences. Before discovering what she called “meditation in motion,” the transgender woman worked for an insurance company.

“The feeling was mermai-zing,” Tabora said while resting on a Manila beach, where she teaches freediving and mermaiding. “The world outside is really noisy, and you will find peace under water. … It’s a good skill in the real world, especially during the pandemic.”

There is thousands more merfolk like her in the world. In simple words, mermaid costumes are worn by people of various sizes, genders, and origins. A growing number of people have enthusiastically flocked to mermaid conventions and competitions in recent years, established community “pods,” started mermaid magazines, and invested their savings in the multimillion dollar mermaid tail industry.

Mer-world is a better, kinder, and happier alternative to the real world since it is removed from the hatred and chaos of life on land. Furthermore, you can be whoever and whatever you desire in this realm, according to the merpeople.

Many transgenders are choosing to become merfolk, inspired by the perils of poor princess Ariel, who was trapped in a body that felt wrong. On top of that, this group of people was motivated by Che Monique, the founder of the Society of Fat Mermaids, a group that advocates for mermaids who embrace their bodies.

“I’m a 300-pound Black mermaid in America over 35, and hopefully that tells somebody they can do whatever they want to do,” says Monique, whose group sells shirts that read ‘Fat mermaids make waves’ and ‘Gender is fluid under the sea.’ “Sure, on the one hand it is really silly, but I’ve watched it change people’s lives.”

“I think there’s room under the sea for all of us,” Monique concludes.

The appeal of mermaiding is evident in Marielle Henault’s home in Montreal, which is jam-packed with mermaid tails. The 31-year-old CEO of AquaMermaid has them lined up on her dresser and in her drawers, stuffed in her bags and storage tubs, ready for sale to “mers” all over the world. Henault herself is the owner of about 20 tails.

“When you put your mermaid tail on at the beach or pool, you become a superstar,” claims Henault, whose business operates mermaiding schools across the U.S. and Canada. “Kids and adults, everybody’s happy to see a mermaid!”

At the time when this whole mermaiding stuff wasn’t as popular, the majority of tails available for purchase were made of custom-made silicone and might weigh up to 23 kilos (50 pounds), cost well over $6,000, and were hard to put on. The mermaiding community, however, has changed over the past few years from an elite group for rich professionals into an attainable ideal for the general public. Nowadays, the tails are made from lighter fabric and sometimes are cheaper than $100.