Damilare Kuku’s “Only Big Bumbum Matters Tomorrow” Preaches Self-Love

Temi’s story in Damilare Kuku’s recently released debut novel, Only Big Bumbum Matters Tomorrow evoked vivid memories of my secondary school days, as I anxiously awaited the growth of my backside. Like Temi, despite growing up in a loving family, an affection that proved insufficient to nurture true self-love, I sought external validation. The book’s protagonist, Temi eventually convinced herself that the only way out was a Brazilian Butt Lift, and it was solely for her benefit. However, the women in her life—her mother, sister, big mummy, and sister Jummai—saw through this facade. They recognized her true motivation: the yearning for desirability by men, women, and society at large, and this recognition was only possible because they understood the power of being liked by society. Nearly all the women in Only Big Bumbum Matters Tomorrow lived for male validation, with the possible exception of sister Jummai, who preferred women. Temi, having never experienced such idolization, craved it desperately. She yearned to feel the power of being desired, to bask in the glow of admiration.  In a world that often reduces women to their physical attributes, can we truly fault her for succumbing to these pressures?

In 2020, the International Society of Aesthetic Plastic Surgery reported that an estimated 396,105 people underwent buttock augmentation surgery. The Brazilian Butt Lift (BBL), a procedure where surgeons transfer fat from areas like the abdomen or lower back to the buttocks, has gained significant popularity. However, despite its allure, it’s also one of the world’s most dangerous cosmetic surgeries, with alarmingly high mortality rates. The term “Brazilian Butt Lift” initially puzzled me—there’s no actual lifting involved, and the connection to Brazil wasn’t immediately clear. Further investigation revealed that Brazilian plastic surgeon Ivo Pitanguy pioneered the procedure in the 1960s, hence the moniker. 

The gluteus maximus, the largest of the three gluteal muscles, shapes the buttocks and plays a crucial role in walking, climbing, running, hiking, and maintaining balance. While estrogen promotes increased fat deposition in women’s buttocks, the hormone deposition varies in women. Society’s hyper-fixation on buttocks has led to troubling issues, aside from the BBL craze. This raises a critical question: what physical features really define womanhood—pronounced breasts or buttocks? The entertainment industry often reinforces these archetypes. Music videos frequently feature scantily clad “video vixens” with exaggerated curves, perpetuating a narrow definition of femininity. This isn’t necessarily the fault of the women involved, as many artist managers actively seek out those who fit this idealized image. It’s remarkable how a single muscle group can spark such widespread societal concern, as evidenced by Temi’s family dynamics and reflected in global beauty standards. This fixation underscores deeper issues surrounding body image, gender expectations, and the objectification of women’s bodies.

In Kuku’s book, Temi’s self-esteem began eroding in primary school when a mixed-race boy she liked cruelly nicknamed her “lepa shandy” and “mop stick.” These derogatory remarks followed her as she endured catcalls from men old enough to be her father while running errands for her mother, and everywhere she went. As Temi’s self-esteem and body image gradually crumbled, she began to view the BBL as her sole path to self-improvement. Such is the insidious nature of body dysmorphia, which often begins as a whisper of self-doubt, gradually amplifying until it drowns out all positive self-perception. Eventually, like Temi, the sufferer may come to distrust even genuine affection from loved ones, perceiving it as pity or deceit.

The motivations for pursuing a BBL extend beyond personal insecurities. Some women view it as a means to increase their social capital or fast-track their path to fame—a strategy that has become increasingly viable in today’s celebrity-driven culture. The book shows this through Temi’s friend Boboola, who leveraged her BBL, funded by her “Dubai papi,” to launch a career as an influencer. While less common, there are instances where women undergo BBL procedures purely for themselves, driven by personal aesthetic preferences rather than external pressures. However, given the pervasive influence of societal beauty standards, it’s challenging to determine where internal desire ends and external influence begins.

Unfortunately, there can be no end to the multiple social issues highlighted in Only Big Bumbum Matters Tomorrow. Women continue to go to extreme lengths to appeal to men, while men often exert minimal effort in return. This imbalance is illustrated in the novel; Hassana, Temi’s mother, faces rejection and blame from Israel after being raped, while he punishes Hassana’s daughter Ladun in the future over something that was not her mother’s fault. Similarly, Big Mommy resorts to skin bleaching in her quest for a husband. It seems as though men are the ultimate prize, and their approval is seemingly worth any sacrifice or risk. My journey echoes aspects of Temi’s struggle. The insecurities that plagued me in secondary school gradually gave way to self-acceptance. I learned to appreciate my body and dress in a way that made me feel confident, ultimately realizing that external validation was unnecessary for my self-worth. It’s crucial for women to love themselves, independent of male approval or societal expectations. True empowerment comes from within—from loving oneself and living authentically, rather than contorting to fit others’ ideals.

Only Big Bumbum Matters Tomorrow is a call to action that challenges women to redefine beauty and worth on their terms, to see themselves through their own eyes rather than through the distorting lens of societal expectations. While the path to self-love can be arduous, it’s infinitely more rewarding—and less perilous—than pursuing dangerous cosmetic procedures or compromising one’s identity for external validation. The book invites readers to question and resist cultural narratives that diminish women’s worth. It encourages a future where women’s value is not determined by their appearance or their appeal to men but by the fullness of their characters and the strength of their self-love.