Transforming Fitness

S
abel Samone-Loreca remembers the first time she walked into EVERYBODY — a ‘radically inclusive’ gym located in Los Angeles’ Cypress Park neighborhood. It’s a small space compared to the big-box gyms she frequented when she first moved to the city. The main room — filled with treadmills, a free weights area, and a variety of machines — could fit within the space an LA Fitness typically allocates for its treadmills alone. A unique patio space offers members an open area to exercise without floor-to-ceiling mirrors staring back at them.

Sabel Samone-Loreca poses at ShowUp Fitness in West Hollywood | Photo: Cassie Esparza

What especially stood out to Samone-Loreca were the body figures painted on the wall. One of them clearly shows the top surgery scars on a trans person’s chest. The sole presence of that figure above the entrance to the gym’s gender-neutral locker room made her feel at ease — a feeling she had not associated with a fitness facility since she transitioned.

“Having this place to come to — it was like coming home,” Samone-Loreca said. “When you walk into a room, and you can see someone that's trans working out and they're feeling comfortable about themselves, it makes you feel that much better.”

Samone-Loreca started going to EVERYBODY as a member in 2018. But even in a comfortable space meant for folks like her, she didn’t see herself represented. With the help of EVERYBODY’s trainer sponsorship program, which helps underrepresented people start their fitness careers, she began her journey to becoming a personal trainer. It’s a path she never thought she could take as a transgender woman.

“I realized really fast that there were probably no Black trans women trainers, or no trans woman trainers at all,” Samone-Loreca said. “I've kind of done a lot of firsts — and it's not because I want to be in that position. It’s because the things I've wanted to do, no one else has ever done.”

Outside of EVERYBODY gym in Cypress Park | Photo: Cassie Esparza

It’s clear in the way she moves and grooves through EVERYBODY that this is her safe space. Athletics, after all, are her thing. She grew up playing basketball and football, running track and even dancing. But nearly four years after EVERYBODY first opened its doors, it remains the only place of its kind in Los Angeles. And although ‘radically inclusive’ gyms like it remain rare, their very existence can be pivotal in changing historically marginalized populations’ perspectives of these spaces.

“Having a trainer who is out as trans or as LGBTQ means you don't have to have your guard up so much,” said Geeny Beemyn, an expert in trans issues in higher education and the director of the LGBTQ+ resource center at the University of Massachusetts Amherst. “It means you can be more comfortable or be yourself more in that space.”

Gyms are not made for every body

Mainstream gyms and fitness facilities are technically accessible to everyone, but the industry overwhelmingly reflects the experiences of those who are white, cisgender, straight and thin. While the disproportionate presence of certain races, ethnicities, and sizes can be improved through proper representation, gender and sexuality are a bit more nuanced. Gender plays a huge role in the way people experience and move around a gym. It ranges from the clear domination of men in the weights section to the monotonous signs that differentiate the entrance of men’s and women’s locker rooms.

According to a study conducted by Stonewall, a LGBTQ+ rights organization in the United Kingdom, one in eight LGBT people avoid going to the gym or participating in physical activities due to a fear of being discriminated against or harassed. The problem gets much worse when only considering trans folks, who are three times as likely as other queer folks to avoid these spaces for the same reasons.

One of the primary contributors to this reality, according to another study published in the Journal of Sport and Exercise Psychology, is the binary organization of locker rooms. These rigidly gendered spaces are part of the traditional makeup of gyms and sports facilities, and can often bar LGBTQ+ folks who might not feel comfortable entering either one. From the responses of more than 1,000 LGBTQ+ identifying individuals, this study found most felt uncomfortable entering locker rooms due to their body image, sexuality, gender expression or gender identity. Transgender and non-binary individuals also expressed a legitimate fear of entering these spaces, which have at times put their personal safety at risk.

“A lot of LGBTQ+ folks, especially trans folks, come in with a lot of expectations of mistreatment,” Beemyn said. “The harassment and stares that people get, not just in locker rooms, but in gyms in general are a really huge issue.”

The clear division of gender in gyms can also elevate feelings of gender dysphoria — which refers to the mental and physical distress experienced by folks whose gender identity does not match their sex assigned at birth. A study conducted by the Human Rights Watch found those who are barred from entering spaces that match their gender identity are forced to enter a space in which they are reminded “about what you hate most about yourself.”

According to Beemyn, exercise can lessen the negative experiences that come with being a LGBTQ+ person — especially if it’s somewhere they feel safe. Samone-Loreca has seen this play out in her own training sessions with clients, who are mostly non-binary and transgender.

“My clients are wanting to work with me, versus forcing themselves to come in,” Samone-Loreca said. “I would have given my right arm to have a trans trainer when I was going through things.”

Fighting through with excercise

Samone-Loreca, 54, transitioned in the early ’90s. She was living in San Francisco at the time. But even in the city she referred to as “the gay mecca — supposedly,” she feared being discriminated against every time she left her home.

The entrance to EVERYBODY'S gender-neutral locker room | Cassie Esparza

“Although it was LGB and all of them, the ‘T’ was forgotten,” Samone-Loreca said. “So, we were still kind of outsiders to the community.”

What made it especially difficult for her to enter traditional fitness facilities as she was transitioning were the gendered locker rooms. No laws protected trans folks from using a locker room or restroom that was consistent with their gender identity at the time.

“I had to deal with a lot of that discrimination about going into a women's restroom or having a place to change,” Samone-Loreca said. “The first couple times I went to the gym [after transitioning], I would just be already dressed and I would go work out.”

On top of having to walk in ready, Samone-Loreca felt restricted to certain areas of the gym, where she thought it was less likely for her to be harassed. “I was uncomfortable working out in the weight area with the guys because I didn’t want to put myself in a position to have to fight my way out of the situation,” Samone-Loreca said. For that reason, she says the treadmill, elliptical and bike were her best friends.

Eventually, trying to circumvent the aspects of big-box gyms that made her uncomfortable started outweighing the benefits. She exchanged her routine gym workouts for power walks on the streets of San Francisco. It wasn’t until she moved to Los Angeles in the early 2000s that she became determined to return to a more traditional fitness facility — and not necessarily by choice. Samone-Loreca is HIV positive and, at the time, became very sick with Hepatitis C.

“Fitness has helped me through a number of health issues I’ve had in my lifetime,” Samone-Loreca said. “My doctors say that it helped save my life.”

Through a research study in 2016, Samone-Loreca was cured of hep-C — only to be diagnosed with stage one cancer six months later. She was able to speed through her treatment because of habits she had developed to help her overcome her previous health issues.

“I only had to go through four surgeries,” Samone-Loreca said. “My exercising and my ability to keep moving throughout the treatment helped everything work.”

She couldn’t have predicted that her choice to return to a traditional fitness facility would propel her into a career that allows her to provide visibility for a community that desperately needs more of it.

"This space is for me"

One of the people desperate to see themselves represented in fitness spaces is Rocket de la Luna, who uses gender-neutral pronouns. They are one of Samone-Loreca’s clients and used to work as a trainer and group exercise instructor before the pandemic.

De la Luna, like Samone-Loreca, considers fitness an important aspect of their life. Aside from being a trainer, they’ve practiced Krav Maga — an Israeli martial art of military self-defense where most participants are cisgender men — for years and are only two away from earning a black belt. They said approaching those hyper-masculine spaces as if they were a man helped them overcome the insecurities that come with entering spaces they do not see themselves in.

“There's a lot of places where I've just sort of allowed myself to decide that this space is for me,” de la Luna says. “Sometimes that's not comfortable, but I do it anyway.”

Having not worked out as much over the past few months after undergoing several surgeries, de la Luna thought it best to ease back into exercising through personal training. But not just with anyone and anywhere — they wanted to find a trans trainer at a queer gym.

“I'm trans and I really wanted a trainer who would understand what that meant,” de la Luna, who is also non-binary, said. “Training with Sabel is seeing her and seeing myself and knowing that I'm real and that I deserve to exist.”

As a newer client at EVERYBODY, de la Luna values a space where they don’t have to feel on guard, explain certain aspects of their transition or hold back who they are.

“At some point, I'm going to have top surgery,” said de la Luna, referring to the surgical procedure where the breast tissue is removed to change the look of a trans person’s chest. “I would like to work out with somebody who knows how to train me to be ready for that and how to train me afterward. That's not something I think I'm going to get from a cis[gender] trainer.”

As much as it has allowed Rocket to finally feel at ease at a fitness facility, LGBTQ+ focused gyms like EVERYBODY are not by any means widely accessible — even in cities that are known for being welcoming to the LGBTQ+ community.

A Safe Space Online

Without access to a comfortable place to move and work out as a queer and non-binary person in Toronto, Canada, AK MacKellar decided to start their own. But not in a traditional space like EVERYBODY — their community lives entirely online.

AK MacKellar poses for their company, Free to Move | Photo: Niamh Barry

Free To Move, the virtual fitness space MacKellar created primarily for LGBTQ+ individuals was an accident. It was born out of translating what they had just started doing in-person to the internet due to the restrictions posed by the Coronavirus pandemic. It might not seem as far-fetched of a concept now that we’ve all learned to live within the bounds of our own homes, but at first, MacKellar did not think a virtual training business would succeed. Instead, it opened the door for them to do what they felt they couldn’t before.

“Creating an online space for these communities made a lot of sense because not everyone has space that they can go to, to work out or move in that they're comfortable,” MacKellar said. “It just took a little bit of courage because I didn’t even know if there was a market for this.”

MacKellar’s program is built on eliminating the barriers they’ve faced as a queer and non-binary person in sports. But the other aspect that drives people to it is the way it keeps those with chronic illnesses — like MacKellar themselves — in mind.

In 2019, MacKellar suffered a concussion after falling off a mountain bike during a trip to Sedona, Arizona. The brain injury developed into a chronic illness, which prevented MacKellar from keeping their office job. Few jobs would accommodate MacKellar’s chronic illness — which severely limits their ability to look at screens — but online training was not one of them.

“When I was teaching in person, I had significant physical symptoms and issues. I knew that wasn't working for me,” MacKellar said. “But then this online scenario popped up, and I loved it because I was able to interact with people in a way that wasn't too overwhelming for me.”

Shifting their coaching business online also expanded the reach of the community MacKellar hoped to build. They now train LGBTQ+ clients from the U.S., Canada, Europe and even Australia.

“I definitely don’t see a lot of queer, trans and non-binary folks in fitness — we are still very underrepresented,” MacKellar said. “It’s really important to have in-person businesses, as much as possible, but also to offer communities online for folks to engage with, because it's not always possible to be in person for a lot of reasons.”

What sets MacKellar’s program apart from others is their targeted approach to making fitness work for individuals who might be going through something only a queer, non-binary or trans person could understand. One of the ways they’ve done this is by curating workouts for those who are preparing to have or are recovering from top surgery. The success of those workout routines inspired MacKellar to work with trans women to develop a post-surgical program for those who get bottom surgery as well.

Although MacKellar’s impact has reached far beyond the original gym space where they began their fitness career, what truly matters to them is how Free To Move has changed their own life.

“I have felt like an outsider for so much in my life in so many spaces, and this community just makes me feel like I belong,” MacKellar said. “I can come home to them, which is a really nice feeling. And I know a lot of other folks feel that way too.”

Going Beyond EVERYBODY

Sabel Samone-Loreca is nearing the end of her journey to be certified as a personal trainer with the National Academy of Sports Medicine, one of the largest personal training certification systems in the nation. When she passes her test, she hopes to work as a trainer with the Aids Healthcare Foundation, which just opened its first-ever public gym in Hollywood.

But even with new doors open before her, she cannot see herself ever leaving EVERYBODY. This was, after all, the first place she saw herself represented, and where she received invaluable support from the community — including one of the gym’s owners Sam Rypinski who offered her the opportunity to participate in the gym’s trainer sponsorship program.

“I've gotten chances here that I probably wouldn't have gotten at any other gym,” Samone-Loreca said. “To be actively working as a trainer, I'm probably one of zero.”

Although her journey has been nothing short of challenging, Samone-Loreca says she’s doesn’t mind it — as long as she’s paving the way for others to follow.

“Now that I'm a Black trans woman trainer, I don't know how many other young trans trainers can now walk in behind me,” Samone-Loreca said. “Me opening that door — it gave other trans women and men if nothing but a quarter of a piece to say, ‘Hey, if she can do it, I can do it.’”