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The idea of seeking membership at a women’s gym probably sounds like you’re doing the absolute most, but after going from a women-only gym back to the mean halls of a co-ed facility, I can honestly say that I miss the days of all-women everything.
The thing about facilities catered to the ladies is that the environment is usually an encouraging, do-your-thing-because-I’m-not-paying-attention vibe. You don’t think about what you’re wearing. If your underwear is showing through your tights, if your shirt comes up and your gut and stretch marks make an appearance, or if you struggle through a cardio step class while everyone else gets their Shaun T on, no one bats an eye, and you don’t feel vulnerable. You’re all there for the same thing: to try and do better about your health. And even when the occasional man would appear, whether he was working at the front desk or coming in to train, aside from giving him a “What the hell are you doing in here?” stare, we went about our business unbothered. Hopping around in Zumba, pedaling on the bikes, chatting in the locker room while waiting for an unoccupied shower. The usual.
Of course, it wasn’t all sunshine and flowers, as there were definitely some subpar and outdated machines in my facility. And the women-only gym I attended didn’t go over a 12 in weights. And did I mention that the facility, no matter which one I attended in the city, was always quite small? But aside from that, I made the most of what they had to offer.
Still, I eventually had to take my money elsewhere after locations closest to my home shut down. I was sad about it. My women-only gym was the start of my fitness journey. Where I began to see the pounds go. Where I first gave a personal trainer a try. Where I took my first yoga class. We encouraged one another in that gym, knew each other’s names and watched people’s kids as they would run around in the daycare room. It was a great place. But having a stable regimen and motivation, I sucked it up and felt I would be just fine heading back to a co-ed gym.
It hasn’t taken long for me to be reminded of why I didn’t like those types of facilities in the first place: Men think they own the joint.
I’ve literally been weightlifting with a weighted bar, standing behind a group of men taking up all the mirror space, and had a guy come up to me and ask, “Hey, can I see that real quick?” All that, despite the fact that a curl bar of the same weight was available for him to use. But, you know, I was just goofing around with it, right?
I’ve had gym managers hound me about why I needed to get a personal trainer to help me meet my goals while male gym-goers would simply say, “I’m good” and be left alone.
I’ve been in yoga with about 20 women where we were laying in Savasana (corpse) pose, quietly breathing, and watched a man barrel in, walk right through the middle of the class to get a mat from the back, and walk right back out. No f–ks given to the session he was disrupting, a class that he hadn’t even bothered to walk quietly to the back of.
I’ve seen men ogle women during both yoga and Zumba, pretending that they’re just trying to get a paper towel.
I’ve seen men take up a whole private workout room floor, no attention paid to the people around them, so they could do rope and box jumps while the rest of us had to pick a corner of the room.
And just yesterday a man asked me “Are you almost done?” with the Stairmaster machine because he said he usually likes to put his gym bag on the side where I am, and would prefer to use my machine.
Guys, get over yourselves.
For the most part, most men at the gym usually keep to themselves. But there are often a few who give off the vibe that they don’t feel like your form of exercise is a valid one. Whatever you’re doing ain’t sh*t to them. They don’t seem to respect space, and others think you’re only wearing those tights so they can have a good view. Basically, some gym-going men don’t take you seriously. Plain and simple.
These types of men, the misogynists of the gym-going bunch, are the ones who come up to you to tell you that you need to squat deeper. They huff and puff when you take longer than they would like to fill up your water bottle. And they say, “The cross-trainers are on the other side of the gym, love” when you work your way into the free-weight area. They’re the men who believe that the gym is a zone solely for men and that your presence in it, in some ways, is either disruptive or titillating. It’s common, and quite vexing.
As it stands in most facets of life, men enjoying behaving as though they are the gatekeepers to just about everything, including the gym. And while it can be disheartening, we have to remind ourselves of the bigger picture, of why we’re in the gym in the first place. Not to impress a musclehead, protein-guzzling, sweaty-ball smelling jerk, but to improve our health. So excuse me if I decide I’m not going to get off of the Stairmaster because you say so, or if I give you the death stare while in Warrior II cause you’re staring at my ass, or if I grab the 20-pound weight as I stand next to you with your 15-pounder, sir. While you may have come to dictate who can do what when and where in your presence, I came to work out.
