[Pride 2021] An Ode to the Bodies that Lifted Me Up: 'Queer' Muscularity in Pop Culture

Xena and Gabrielle. For many members of the LGBT community, they were the gateway for all things ‘queer’. You could find 4 or 5-year-old Dani religiously glued to the television for new episodes and re-runs. Moreover, they (and the women cast members) were both my first foray into ‘strong women’ as more than a concept but physical embodiments of the phraseology. Throughout the series run, you could see well-defined shoulders, back muscles, thighs, calves, abs, arms—you name it! One day, I thought, one day, I too shall join this illustriously muscled pantheon. 

When I wasn’t gorging myself on Xena: Warrior Princess (1995-2001), I devoured every single bodybuilding competition, ‘strongman’ event, and Olympic powerlifting video I could find. Ms. Olympia winners such as Lenda Murray and Kim Chizevsky-Nicholls of The Cell (2000) fame were posters and magazines that I coveted. The She-Hulk Marvel comics were truly a font of beauty and self-affirmation for me because the lead Jennifer Walters was just existing big (and green) all the time. She loved her size and was shown regularly uncomfortable and feeling dysphoria outside of it.

She-Hulk: Marvel Comics

The line between admiration and obsession is oftentimes tenuous and I regularly found myself nestled there because it was my niche and I was truly mesmerized by the bodies and the dedication. When my fledgeling journey began more than a decade ago, I found there was a zen-like headspace and focus that’s required when you’re lifting, moving heavy implements, and pushing your body to its physical limits. Beyond writing, weightlifting is my additional form of self-care. Earbuds in, a good playlist, spandex pants, crop-top, shoes of choice, and I’m ready for the next couple of hours. 

When I began this journey of self-actualization, my templates were black-and-white photographs of ‘strong women’ from the early 1900s circuses. Their feats of strength weren’t the only things that enthralled me, but once again it was their physiques. Every single person was a different height and build which only added further emphasis for me that any body could do this. You didn’t necessarily have to have rippling eye-popping muscles to be strong. With that thought in mind, I had to find which regimen was right for me. 

Me, with the most awkward thumbs-up, 2021

Oftentimes, in the gym spaces back in the mid-2000s, I was the sole woman-presenting person at the squat rack or tire-flip space…but then something magical happened…CrossFit began to sweep the country seemingly overnight. Or the Internet was finally catching up to women, femmes, etc who had been doing this heavy cross-training all along. Don't worry, I'll also address the controversy surrounding Crossfit and the broader conversation on racism in sports in a moment. Vis-à-vis the media, I’d been mentally cataloguing strong-women for decades and therein I found myself. Their images kept me from spiraling when I was wrestling with all of the trappings of gendered expectations about my body and the societal limits imposed upon it. A form of self-care became self-expression…and who knew, encompassed an even ‘queerer’ identity? 

When you’re young you don’t have the language for a lot of things you see or experience about your world and how you idealize its formation so this is where a thank you to the Internet comes in. After many years of trying to blend into an allosexual world, strenuous research revealed that I was in the Asexuality spectrum. Grey-Ace seems apt for now, but who knows how that may shift or transform in the future. Realizing this was an a-ha moment because I never sexualized the bodies of my dreams, including my own. Moreover, I embraced how the gender presentation variants and pronouns for my own identity were malleable. Perhaps genderqueer will be more in my wheelhouse one day, but presently non-binary feels like a snug fit. The greatest gift of this journey is reflecting on the women and binary-toppling people throughout history who paved the way for all of us to exist as we are and who we visualize ourselves to be. 

Elisabeth Akinwale, pictured with her child

However, this external/internal expedition hasn’t been all sunshine, rainbows, and blue skies either. The blatant or subtle microaggressions of racism and/or transphobia (for Black women transmisogynoir) exist doubly if not triply so in athletics. Speaking of the now scandalized organization CrossFit, one of my personal superheroes who previously competed in the sport, Elisabeth Akinwale spoke out about the racism and lack of opportunity for Black people as faces of the brand. Her statement was powerful and still shows why Black (and other people of color) frequently have to craft their own tables to sit in.

This lack of seeing myself or having a few faces to look up to was a regular occurrence throughout my life as well. I was still a visible Black person who had to sift through a lot of media to find other Black people who were charting their own muscular course in the face of anti-blackness. When our bodies have often been the focal point of conjecture, sideshow spectacles, medical malpractice, and transphobia (for Black women/femmes) it's an unforgivingly slippery slope to climb in athletics.

The spectre of shame and othering looms even within our own communities. Gatekeeping and body-policing are frequent hurdles that prevent a lot of Black women, queer or otherwise, from public gym spaces where their talents and bodies are not affirmed and celebrated. Horrific comments abound across the Internet for women and femmes who don’t perform the binary correctly. I’ve had a divergent path to traverse as a queer person, but that need to defend other members of the strength community remains. Perhaps, it's just my age bracket or how I’ve been entrenched with the language to respect people’s pronouns and gender identities but the need to make space for everyone at the table has become a clarion call for me, especially because I personally know how it feels to sit in an unaccommodating chair.

Andrea Thompson, tiny but mighty

So you’ll excuse me if I’m the conductor of the hype-train for strength in all of the myriad forms that it appears. For example, I’m on the Andrea Thompson strongwoman bandwagon right now because she’s one of the smallest women I’ve ever seen compete but she’s an absolute powerhouse who’s set, beat, and toppled her own/previously existing strength records. And she’s Black! You seriously could have knocked me over with a feather when I discovered her existence a few years ago. Amidst this melancholia, I have to think about the silver lining of my experiences and reminisce that some of the warmest people I’ve ever met have been those in the strength community (regardless of race or gender). Like any community, there are people who will cheer you on from the sidelines, check-in on your progress, and spot you when you need a lift. 

If you wish to read more of my thoughts about strong women, check out my pieces Seeing Abby in the Last of Us Part II and Alcina Dimitrescu: The Ingredients for an Iconic Character. 

PLEASE CONSIDER DONATING TO
THE GAYLY HELPFUL FUNDRAISER FOR THE TRANSGENDER LAW CENTER