Wednesday, November 1, 2017 // The Statement
4B
Wednesday, November 1, 2017 // The Statement 
 
5B

Gender and the Gym

coping with masculine stereotypes in fitness

b y S a m R o s e n b e r g , Daily Arts Writer

“

You need to be more aggressive.”

I nodded quietly at my baseball 

coach and walked back to home 
plate, where I attempted to muster 
up all the energy in my lithe, eight-

year-old body to hit the ball. My helmet felt too 
big on my head. My milk-white pants felt too 
tight on my legs. I already had two strikes, and 
I knew that I was a swing and a miss away from 
my third. It didn’t even matter at that point. I 
wasn’t “aggressive” enough to play baseball, 
and I couldn’t pretend to be.

From an early age, most boys are expected 

to embody ideals of masculinity — strength 
and competitive attitudes — often in physical 
activities, like sports. Unfortunately, sports 
never really stuck with me.

During soccer tournaments, I would try to 

entertain myself with an inner monologue. 
I’d even sit on the field when I sensed the ball 
wasn’t going to be kicked in my direction. Bas-
ketball was fun at times, but my short stature 
made it difficult to compete against my much 

taller, faster and more athletic teammates. I 
played tennis for several years, but I never felt 
skilled enough to commit to it. Of every sport 
I played, baseball was the most excruciatingly 
tedious. I would often either be sitting in the 
dugouts or standing in the outfield, both of 
which were paradoxically the best and loneli-
est parts of my Minor League career.

It wasn’t until the end of eighth grade that 

I found a sport more suitable to my interests: 
cross-country running. I would spend each 
fall semester of high school running with my 
teammates in the dry San Fernando Valley 
heat, sweating and heaving until my calves 
grew sore. I felt incredible knowing that I was 
getting stronger and faster with every meet 
and practice, beating my personal records and 
starting to feel like “a man.”

As co-captain of my team during my senior 

year, I was thrust into a position of leadership 
that encouraged the macho, aggressive men-
tality I eschewed when I was younger. I need-
ed to use a “manly,” aggressive voice to prove I 

could be a strong leader for my team.

Before becoming captain, I never expected 

to be the best runner or athlete or version of a 
man, because maybe I was never meant to be. 
I ran because I liked it, because it was good 
exercise and because it was easy. But perhaps I 
also ran because I felt the need to show myself 
and others that I was capable of expressing my 
masculinity in the most socially acceptable 
way possible: through sports.

For someone who doesn’t fully fit the domi-

nant mold of masculinity, sports can be alien-
ating. As I’ve grown older, I’ve found this 
alienation doesn’t escape the college campus 
either.

*****
The Intramural Sports Building and the 

Central Campus Recreation Building are the 
largest gyms on campus, and they’re free and 
accessible to undergraduate and graduate stu-
dents. Given the academic rigor and heavy 
workload of the college atmosphere, exercising 
at the gym makes for a great stress relief. It also 

helps that gyms have been statistically found to 
increase GPAs for college students.

U.S. fitness centers reached a total mem-

bership of 57.25 million in 2016, with roughly 
36,000 membership-based exercise facilities 
nationwide. Clearly, gyms are an important 
part of American and college life, and as such, 
they often reflect the same gender-based 
norms that dictate men lift weights and women 
run on the treadmill. Only 21 percent of women 
participate in strength training, according to a 
2017 study from the National Center for Health 
Statistics.

Many female students at the University of 

Michigan find the gym to be a rather intimidat-
ing place — especially the weight room.

“As a girl, I know most people don’t expect 

me to do anything other than cardio,” LSA 
junior Ali Rosenblatt, said.

Since Rosenblatt’s freshman year of high 

school, she has been consistently doing a mix 
of cardio and weight training. While she has 
become used to working out in the weight 
room, Rosenblatt still senses a stigma against 
women lifting weights at the gym, since 
weights are generally associated with “manli-
ness.”

“There’s usually a look of, ‘What’s she gonna 

pick up?’ ‘Does she actually know what she’s 
doing?’ ” she said. “People kind of look for you 
to mess up. I have a lot of friends who don’t 
want to go, whereas I see boys who clearly do 
not know what they’re doing, but they’re com-
fortable because it’s a ‘boys’ room.’ ”

LSA junior Phoebe Hopp echoes Rosen-

blatt’s sentiment.

“You never really feel like you’re just work-

ing out for yourself,” Hopp said. “Every time 
you do work out, it feels like there’s an audi-
ence.”

At non-campus gyms, Hopp says she has 

been interrupted by guys trying to instruct her 
on how to use the equipment and sometimes 
even use that opportunity to ask for her num-
ber.

“It makes your workout feel like it’s some-

how inferior to the other guys that have been 
working out,” Hopp said.

Building self-confidence can be tricky when 

appearance — looking physically strong — is at 
the forefront of gym culture. Even for people 
who have been working out since they were 
young, like Data Science junior Isha Kathuria 
trying to perfect one’s body can be an emotion-
al burden. Since she got her first gym member-
ship at age 13, Kathuria has grown accustomed 
to the gym atmosphere.

“A lot of times, there weren’t very many 

people at the gym I went to, so I was able to 

become very comfortable with myself being 
there,” Kathuria said. “When I went to bigger 
gyms, I was already comfortable with myself. I 
don’t really pay attention to what other people 
are doing and just focus on my own workout.”

But it’s easy to become self-conscious of 

one’s body image given the influence of social 
media, where Instagram fitness models gain 
popularity for posting pictures and videos 
of their exhaustive workouts and toned phy-
siques. Kathuria subscribes to fitness users 
like Whitney Simmons and Linn Lowes, both 
of whom have accumulated about one million 
Instagram followers.

“When I haven’t worked out in a while and 

feel down on myself, I avoid going on Insta-
gram Discover so I don’t have to see the videos,” 
Kathuria said. “You have your own body and 
you have your own goals, but they shouldn’t be 
based on what other people look like.”

While watching these videos can negatively 

impact one’s self-esteem — Instagram, in par-
ticular, is a known detriment to mental health 
— Kathuria says fitness models can sometimes 
be helpful when explaining the strenuous 
nature of their process.

For someone like Janae Marie Kroc, a well-

known bodybuilder from the Ann Arbor area 
who identifies as transgender and genderfluid, 
the idea of conforming to the societal standard 
of masculinity has never been easy.

“As a muscular male, (working out) is largely 

seen as a positive thing,” Kroc said. “People 
respect it. When you’re dating, it’s a plus.”

Originally from a small town in northern 

Michigan, Kroc has maintained a passion for 
exercise since childhood. By age 12, Kroc was 
working out consistently. She entered body-
building competitions during her high school 
years and continued lifting during her time 
in the Marine Corps. Currently, she trains 
five days a week, doing cardio every morning 
and following a bodybuilding diet of oatmeal, 
chicken and rice.

“It’s always about trying to be better than 

yesterday,” Kroc said.

But since beginning estrogen therapy, Kroc 

has noticed a few changes in the way people at 
the gym perceive her.

“As a woman, it’s completely different. 

Immediately, it draws a lot of stares and nega-
tivity. People question your sexuality. Especial-
ly being transgender, you get pushback from 
your own community.”

Though she now mostly trains at home, Kroc 

has added “post-estrogen PRs” to help broaden 
her workout goals to gain as much strength as 
possible during her transition.

“It’s still about progress, it’s still about mov-

ing forward. But now, it’s basically a different 
set of rules and a different framework,” Kroc 
said.

Despite the obstacles Janae faced in the 

midst of her transition, she found solace in the 
other women in the bodybuilding community.

“They struggle with all the same things 

when their femininity is questioned in the pur-
suit of muscularity and strength,” Kroc said.

*****
The weight room may not be as welcoming 

as it should be, but working out there isn’t the 
only way to stay in shape. In addition to her 
ventures to the CCRB, Rosenblatt partakes in 

weekly yoga classes at the Center for Yoga on 
the corner of East William and State Streets, 
where she says some of her male friends also 
practice.

“There’s a stigma against yoga as a more 

feminine workout,” Rosenblatt said. “But my 
(male) friends who go to yoga classes know it’s 
a tough workout.”

Along with yoga, CrossFit provides a more 

inclusive alternative to the classic weight 
room. Mika LaVaque-Manty, a political science 
professor and the director of the LSA Honors 
Program, has been going to Joust Strength and 
Fitness for nine years, a CrossFit gym in Ann 
Arbor founded by three women. Though Cross-
Fit is notable for its intense, grueling weightlift-
ing, plyometrics, gymnastics and powerlifting 
exercises, it has taken steps toward narrowing 
the gender gap by applying a more group-cen-
tric approach, in which men and women are 
given the same amount of attention and agency 
in reaching their workout goals.

“You’re suffering together, supporting one 

another, having fun together, and not compet-
ing against anyone else,” LaVaque-Manty said. 
“In so many sports, the things that we associate 
with masculinity and often with athletic excel-
lence like strength aren’t the things that make 
somebody be better athletes.”

He pointed out that CrossFit gyms generally 

don’t have mirrors. With greater gender and 
age variance, CrossFit gyms have provided a 
conscientious approach to fitness in regards to 
challenging and shifting preconceived notions 
of gender, body image and masculinity.

*****
But the question still remains: How do we 

enforce more inclusivity at gyms here on cam-
pus, and what exactly would that look like?

Mike Widen and Lisa Shea, the director and 

associate director of University Recreational 
Sports, take that issue into account when deter-
mining how to improve activities and spaces 
offered at the CCRB and the IM Building. 
When setting policies, Shea and Widen receive 
feedback from students, faculty, alumni and 
the Rec Sports advisory committee about what 
changes need to be made to on-campus gyms.

“Students play a valuable role in the process 

because they see it from both perspectives,” 
Widen said. “They experience the spaces them-
selves, but they also understand the logistics 
of what makes a place like the gym the envi-
ronment that it is. Whatever the decisions we 
make, we want to make sure that recreational 
sports are inclusive to all students, regardless 
of gender.”

Since the IM building reopened last school 

year after renovations, the space has made sev-
eral significant changes regarding inclusivity, 
such as the addition of gender-neutral bath-
rooms and locker rooms.

“It’s about the environment and physical 

structures of making our space feel welcome,” 
Shea said.

In addition to the gender-inclusive spaces, 

Shea added that incorporating a tubular design, 
softer colors, a wider entrance space, greater 
visibility and lighter-weight strength and 
cardio equipment helped implement a more 
comfortable and inviting atmosphere at the 
IM building. The rec sports’ Group X program 
also gives students a more individualized cur-

riculum through small group training in yoga, 
mindfulness, meditation and movement.

Widen and Shea both hope to apply simi-

lar gender-inclusive improvements to the 
CCRB, which is slated for renovation in 
2021, following the completion of the North 
Campus Recreation Building’s renovation in 
fall 2018 and the restoration of the Michi-
gan Union.

While gender-neutral bathrooms and locker 

rooms are creating progress in inclusivity at the 
IM building, Kroc believes education is a key 
solution to combating hyper-masculine men-
tality at the gym, to make it a safer space for 
women and gender nonconforming people.

“Being open helps a lot,” Kroc said. “For 

me, being as big and muscular as I am, it’s 
kind of a double-edged sword. On the one 
hand, it makes it very difficult for me to 
pass. Even when people read me as a female 
bodybuilder, I’m often bigger than anybody 
they’ve seen before. My muscularity also 
offers me a small measure of protection 
because people are less likely to be aggres-
sive with me.”

Men at the gym aren’t just perpetuating a 

hyper-masculine mentality; they’re affected 
by it as well. A 2017 study on masculinity 
from the Journal of American College Health 

found that college-aged men are under sig-
nificant social pressure to conform to mas-
culine gender roles. Trying to embody these 
hyper-masculine traits has also been linked 
to mental health issues, such as depression 
and substance abuse, and less favorable atti-
tudes toward getting psychological help, 
according to a 2016 study from the American 
Psychological Association.

Usually when I go to the gym, I’ll first do 

15 minutes of running on the treadmill, fol-
lowed by exercise machines, free weights and 
pull-ups. Whether it’s at the CCRB or the IM 
Building, I am constantly aware of my skin-
ny frame in comparison to the much buffer 
men standing near me. Through the mirror, 
I can feel the weight of others’ stares on me, 
even as I attempt to focus on myself and my 
physical growth. But seeing how these men 
have perfected themselves is a hard thing to 
come for someone who doesn’t participate in 
a sport anymore.

But going to the gym shouldn’t be about 

acting the most “aggressive” or looking the 
most “masculine.” It should be about lim-
proving our physical health, appreciating 
our vulnerability, understanding our limita-
tions and, ultimately, finding our own inner 
strength.

ALEXIS RANKIN/Daily

ALEXIS RANKIN/Daily

