“Fat, Black and Ugly in Times Square” - Why some Black people hate Thomas J Price’s Times Square statue

Grounded in the Star by Thomas J Price, photo by Steven Molina Contreras

Before I saw the Thomas J Price statue, I had seen a post regarding the “controversy” caused by a statue of a Black woman in the middle of Times Square. Instinctively, I had also built a persona for the type of person I believed would have been outraged at the sculpture of literally an ordinary woman - White, angry, and foaming at the mouth with racism. I was right… for the most part. However, after an additional 10 seconds of scrolling, I realised the hate was also coming from inside the house. One Tik Toker (also a Black woman) referred to the statue as “fat, Black and ugly in Times Square”, she goes on to say that the woman depicted is “manly” and a “monster of a Black woman”. Expectedly, my trigger fingers were ready to put together a scathing comment. But, instead, I think it’s worth a lengthier discussion, bringing in the socio-cultural concept of ‘double-consciousness’ first introduced by 19th century Pan-African civil rights activist W. E. B. Du Bois (trigger fingers still very much in use here). 

First of all, let’s talk about representation. For centuries, depiction of Black characters through mainstream art has been out of the hands of Black storytellers themselves. From the retroactive erasure of Black historical figures including ones that have been painted over and literally Whitened in the 18th and 19th centuries, to modern day representation, Blackness is often depicted and viewed through a White lens. It’s only relatively recently that Black artists have been able to make a living depicting their imagery and stories in a form that rings true. And even so, the Black Lives Matter movement in 2020 showed us that the acceptance of Black artistry was still at a superficial level. During this period, Art by Black people reached an all-time peak, and collectors and curators across the industry were in a scramble for ‘Black Art’ within their repertoire. Spoiler: this was extremely short-lived. 

Back in 2020, Black artists such as Kwesi Botchway, Serge Attukwei Clottey and Isshaq Ismail experienced heightened interest in their work, Botchway saw one of his own paintings go to auction with an estimated price range of $30,000 to $50,000 and then sell for $214,200. However, by 2024, in a seemingly post-Black Lives Matter era, a similar painting sold for an impressive, yet strikingly lower price of $11,000. Even when collectors and curators did choose Black artists, there was preference for ‘Black Art’ rather than just art by a Black person. What I mean by that is, they wanted art that was obviously Black, with a Black face and Black body centre stage. It’s called “virtue signalling”, or, in other words “how will you know that I’m a good person?”. More abstract pieces, or work that didn’t focus on an expected depiction of Blackness did not receive the spotlight. 

Kwesi Botchway, Blue Stool Gaze, 2020. Acrylic on canvas. 42 x 56 in. Courtesy of Gallery 1957

Within the scope of ‘Black Art’ that is deemed acceptable, there’s an additional layer of the type of Blackness that’s depicted. Once again, it’s the kind that’s closest to the White standard of beauty, or if not, then an “otherworldy” view of Black people, one dripped in gold, focused on royalty, magic, myth or trauma, or, "in a way that is decorative, edgy, but ultimately nonthreatening". Just to be clear here, my point here isn’t about invalidating any of the work that is accepted, it’s only to say that it is more widely acceptable than others. 

Now let’s get onto the statue. “Grounded in the Stars” is a 12-foot tall statue of a gazing Black woman in a T-shirt and trousers, standing with her hands on her hips. The sculpture was created by British artist Thomas J Price, whose multidisciplinary practice confronts preconceived notions of identity and representation. Although she is a fictionalized character, the statue is constructed from real life images, observations, and open calls spanning between Los Angeles and London. The aim of the work is to disrupt traditional ideas around what defines a triumphant figure and challenges who should be rendered immortal through monumentalization. Through the piece, Price intends to “instigate meaningful connections and bind intimate emotional states that allow for deeper reflection around the human condition and greater cultural diversity.”

However, the most prevalent emotional state the work has met is anger. And people aren’t just irritated by the statue, they’re offended. It’s easy to decipher why the majority [* whispers * “racist White people”] are angry, the statue represents a margin of society that they believe should never take centre stage. But why are Black people, especially Black women, angry too? 

Thomas J Price by Ollie Adegboye

W. E. B. Du Bois’ concept of double-consciousness suggests that Black Americans, (and for the purpose of this article I’m going to stretch this to Black people in the Western world more generally) often view ourselves through two lenses. As a result of racialized oppression and disvaluation in a White-dominated society, “double-consciousness” suggests we view ourselves through our own lens (our true self), and through the lens of Whiteness (our second self). According to Du Bois, “It is a peculiar sensation, this double-consciousness, this sense of always looking at one’s self through the eyes of others, of measuring one’s soul by the tape of a world that looks on in amused contempt and pity.” This often means that marginalized members of society internalize and project the perceptions we inherited from oppressors onto ourselves. For example, we see a statue in Times Square of a Black woman, on one hand we might acknowledge she looks similar to us, or a number of Black women that we know and love. Our ‘second self’ on the other hand, firstly brands this statue as “all Black women”, and secondly it rates the statue according to a White beauty standard, and of course, like most things Black things, in the eyes of Whiteness, it fails. 

Most of the Black people I’ve seen react to the work have had positive responses, with some saying “ it really speaks to me to see a Black woman — a plus-size woman — standing in the middle of Times Square.” But we all know angered voices tend to be the loudest. Others have criticized the statue, saying, “it’s not the best representation of us [...] is that what you want us to look like? We have choices for how we can present ourselves [...] it’s the hand of the hip, it’s the shirt untucked [..] why don’t we change the narrative and be different so people don’t look at us and paint us this way.” The most notable point from critics is a question of how the statue makes Black people look as a whole. Needless to say, we don’t see a statue of Winston Churchill and consider how it represents White people as a whole. 

Thomas J Price, Grounded in the Stars (2025). Photo: Michael Hull. Courtesy Times Square Arts.

According to Du Bois, double-consciousness gives way to “an almost morbid sense of personality, and a moral hesitancy which is fatal to self-confidence”. To borrow from the late Toni Morrison, this preoccupation with the White gaze means that we will continuously need to defend our image because we struggle to gain self-confidence to determine what is enough. By rejecting the depiction of one Black woman, who undeniably could exist exactly how she is shown, we’re enforcing our value purely on its attractiveness to the White gaze. 

What I see in the negative receptions by Black people, especially Black women, of the Thomas J Price statue is a struggle to reconcile our own identity with the dominant society's perception of us. When it comes to representation of us, instead of “what do I think”, Western society has forced us to wonder “what would they think?”. Rather than embracing the celebration of Blackness on such a scale, we reject it, almost before the oppressive society has a chance to. As much as double-consciousness works at a detriment to the confidence and self-determination of Black people, it has also historically been used as an instrument for self-improvement. As well as acknowledging its massive flaws I also recognise that it’s a survival tool in a White-dominated society that often only allows progress if the White gaze is appeased. By rejecting the mere existence of a Black statue, some are unconsciously protecting themselves against backlash, they are joining the co-opted reinvention of “Black fatigue”, to mean being tired of seeing Blackness. For Black Americans, this outraged response is, for the most part, a subconscious resignation to the racist limitations of the White gaze. 

Words by Aisha Ayoade