School Gym Shower Exclusion Sparked Years of Fitness Avoidance
Entering the boys' changing room after a strenuous PE lesson, I was sweaty and out of breath, but my racing heart wasn't just from physical exertion. As I approached the showers, the predictable comment came from a fellow student: 'Don't let that bender in here!' I was just 14 years old at the time, not yet openly identifying as gay or non-binary, but this incident had a profound and lasting impact on my relationship with exercise.
The Beginning of Systematic Exclusion
Starting middle school at 13 introduced me to a new group of boys navigating the complexities of puberty. While hormones surged and friendships formed, I struggled to connect with peers who shared few common interests with me. This social isolation quickly made me an easy target for bullying that extended beyond casual teasing into systematic exclusion from basic facilities.
Every PE lesson followed the same distressing pattern. I wasn't alone in this treatment - two other boys in my class faced similar discrimination. One had physical disabilities, while another was particularly shy, and both were instructed by the popular group to change in a corner, away from the main changing area.
Escalation to Shower Prohibition
The exclusion escalated to outright prohibition from using the showers. Any attempt I made to clean up after exercise was met with immediate resistance, with boys brandishing their towels as weapons to physically drive me away. This social ostracization extended beyond the changing rooms onto the sports field, where I was consistently placed in goal or completely excluded from team selections.
The psychological impact was significant. Not only did this treatment create social distress, but it completely eliminated any potential enjoyment I might have found in the sports we were practicing. The message was clear: certain spaces weren't meant for people like me.
Long-Term Consequences on Fitness Relationship
This early trauma created a deep-seated fear of fitness spaces that persisted for over a decade. I actively avoided gyms, fitness centers, and even retail stores selling activewear. The anxiety extended to my relationship with food, as I became hyper-vigilant about maintaining a slim physique through dietary control rather than exercise, believing this represented a 'healthy' approach.
Pandemic Discovery and Gradual Reclamation
During the pandemic lockdowns, I discovered alternative exercise methods that felt safer. Walking outdoors and working out in parks provided exercise opportunities without the intimidating presence of potential bullies. Stripped of social pressures, I realized that physical activity could indeed bring joy and be accessible - I simply needed to find the right approach for myself.
This realization eventually encouraged me to attempt a return to formal fitness spaces. At age 25, I joined a large commercial gym filled with machines, classes, and complex systems. Despite being openly queer and living as non-binary for a decade - attending with painted nails and makeup - I still felt restricted. The weights and strength training areas seemed off-limits to someone like me, and the groups of younger men replicated the intimidating atmosphere I remembered from school changing rooms.
Finding Safety in Smaller, Inclusive Spaces
Now aged 28, I've discovered a much smaller, bespoke gym that prioritizes individual needs over commercial scale. The environment feels completely different - with diverse members of all ages, genders, and body types united by a shared commitment to fitness rather than social hierarchies.
From my initial tour, I noticed thoughtful details like gender-neutral facilities and an approach that treats each person as an athlete rather than merely a customer. This welcoming atmosphere gave me the confidence to share my gender identity with instructors, explaining my use of they/them pronouns in an email that initially felt terrifying to send.
Transformational Acceptance and Moving Forward
The response was transformative. The gym team replied with genuine respect and gratitude, assuring me I was 'most welcome' and would be made 'comfortable' in their facilities. This marked a turning point in my relationship with fitness - the relief was immediate and profound.
Now when I attend strength classes with my partner, my identity is irrelevant to the workout. We focus entirely on fitness goals without distraction. Most importantly, I know that if homophobia or transphobia ever becomes an issue, I have allies within the gym team - a priceless assurance in today's world.
Looking back, I feel proud that despite childhood bullying and a tarnished experience of school sports, I've reclaimed fitness on my own terms. While I missed these opportunities as a child, I can now explore physical activities without fear, discovering what truly brings me joy in fitness spaces.
