Libby Strout

Quick Facts

• Role: Co-protagonist of Holding Up the Universe; the girl the internet once called “America’s Fattest Teen”
• First appearance: The opening chapter, introducing the viral house-rescue and her return to school as a junior
• Age/Grade: Eleventh grade; back after years of homeschooling
• Distinguishing details: Lost 302 pounds from a high of 653; “medium-longish brown hair,” the color of “Highland cattle”; signature red lipstick and an “adorable navy dress” on day one; a passionate dancer
• Key bonds: A popular classmate who becomes her confidant and love interest; her steadfast father; three friends who form her first true friend group

Who They Are

Bold, bruised, and braver than she lets on, Libby Strout walks back into high school carrying a past the whole world thinks it knows. Her body has been made into a spectacle—first by a rescue video watched millions of times, then by classmates who try to define her by her size. But Libby refuses to be reduced. From the first day—red lips, sneakers, and a deliberate decision to “be seen”—she claims her own story. Dance is her North Star: a way of moving that turns a body others shame into a body that takes up space, makes rhythm, and says “I am here.”

Personality & Traits

Libby’s personality blends fearless defiance with private vulnerability. She meets cruelty with sharp wit, channels grief into motion, and chooses connection even when experience tells her to hide. Her strength isn’t the absence of fear—it’s her refusal to let fear script her life.

• Resilient and brave: She returns to school after public humiliation and extreme bullying, confronts aggressors like Moses Hunt and Caroline Lushamp, and refuses to accept the roles they assign her. Punching back (literally and figuratively) becomes an early boundary-setting moment.
• Witty and disarming: When a classmate doesn’t recognize her, she deadpans, “Everyone gets me confused with Jennifer Lawrence,” turning a painful moment into a line that reclaims power through humor.
• Empathetic: When she discovers a popular boy’s hidden neurological condition, she responds with curiosity and care, telling her friends she’s “crawling around inside his skin.” Empathy lets her see past façades—even as she begs others to see past hers.
• Vulnerable (and honest about it): Panic attacks, spirals of self-loathing, and a fear of being unwanted haunt her. She even preempts bullies by writing insults about herself, a defense that reveals both pain and self-awareness.
• Passionate dancer: Dance is freedom, a link to her late mother, and the truest expression of self she owns. Auditioning for the Damsels is less about a team and more about claiming the right to joy.

Character Journey

Libby begins in survival mode: show up, keep your head down, don’t give them ammunition. But she’s already tired of hiding. Early on, she experiments with control by “hunting herself,” scribbling hurtful words before others can—an act that exposes the toxic logic of internalized shame. As unexpected connections form with a boy carrying a secret and with new friends who treat her as more than a headline, she shifts from defense to offense. The turning point comes when she steps into the hallway in a purple bikini and hands out her “You Are Wanted” manifesto: a public declaration that reframes her body from spectacle to signal and embodies the novel’s focus on Self-Acceptance and Body Image. By the end, Libby isn’t simply enduring school; she’s authoring the terms of her visibility—dancer, friend, daughter, and a girl who insists on wanting and being wanted.

Key Relationships

• Jack Masselin: Their story starts with a humiliating cafeteria “game” and evolves into a relationship built on mutual exposure: her public trauma, his prosopagnosia. The bond grows because they recognize in each other the ache of Loneliness and Isolation and the discipline of truly seeing—proof of Seeing Beyond Appearances. Jack is the first boy to recognize Libby without reducing her, and Libby is the first to meet Jack’s condition with understanding rather than pity.
• Will Strout: Libby’s father is steady love made visible—practical, protective, and grieving the same loss Libby carries. Their relationship deepens as Libby shares more of her fears and hopes; in learning to speak openly, they help each other step past the paralysis of grief.
• Bailey Bishop, Jayvee De Castro, and Iris Engelbrecht: This trio becomes Libby’s first sturdy social circle, offering encouragement without condescension. They normalize her presence at school, cheer for her dancing, and make belonging feel like daily life rather than a prize she has to earn.

Defining Moments

Libby’s arc is marked by a series of choices that shift her from target to truth-teller. Each moment reframes how she sees herself—and how others must see her.

• The “Fat Girl Rodeo”: In the cafeteria, a cruel stunt turns Libby into a spectacle yet again. Why it matters: Her punch draws a boundary—she won’t be handled, mocked, or made into a prop—and sets the unlikely connection with Jack in motion.
• The bathroom wall confession: She writes the very insults others would use against her. Why it matters: It’s a raw snapshot of internalized shame and a pivot point toward a healthier form of control—owning her narrative without wounding herself.
• The Damsels audition: She shows up to dance where some believe she doesn’t belong, facing Caroline’s invasive commentary about her body. Why it matters: Even before outcomes, showing up claims space; Libby centers ability and joy over others’ prejudice.
• The purple bikini and “You Are Wanted”: Libby stands in the hallway, exposed and unashamed, handing out her manifesto. Why it matters: She reclaims her body from public consumption and turns it into a beacon—an act of radical permission for herself and others.
• Discovering Jack’s secret: She learns he saw her rescue, and that “Dean,” her imaginary friend, wasn’t imaginary. Why it matters: The revelation threatens trust but ultimately deepens intimacy; forgiveness here is active, not automatic.

Essential Quotes

“My name is Libby Strout. You’ve probably heard of me. You’ve probably watched the video of me being rescued from my own house. At last count, 6,345,981 people have watched it, so there’s a good chance you’re one of them. Three years ago, I was America’s Fattest Teen.”

Libby names the spectacle before anyone else can. By invoking the view count, she exposes the scale of voyeurism and stakes out a voice that refuses erasure: if the world insists on watching, it will have to listen, too.

“So I ask you, What can high school do to me that hasn’t already been done?”

This isn’t cynicism; it’s fearless calculus. The line reframes high school as survivable and gives Libby the courage to take risks—dance, friendship, love—because the worst has already happened and she’s still here.

“I want to be the girl who can do anything. I want to be the girl who tries out for the MVB Damsels and makes the team.”

A mission statement disguised as a wish. The repetition (“I want to be the girl…”) reveals both aspiration and self-coaching, turning desire into action and action into identity.

“This way, there is nothing they can say about me that I haven’t said myself.”

Libby’s rationale for preemptive self-insult captures the paradox of self-protection that hurts. The moment is crucial because it shows her mid-transition—still using old armor even as she learns new, healthier defenses.

“YOU ARE WANTED. Big, small, tall, short, pretty, plain, friendly, shy. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise, not even yourself. Especially not yourself.”

Her manifesto widens the lens from self to community. By commanding the reader not to self-disqualify, Libby transforms a private battle into collective permission—and turns visibility into an act of care.