Creepy, Perverted Behavior & Misogyny At The Gym: A Growing Trend That Has To STOP

By Staci Traynor

Being harassed at the gym isn't just a New York thing. It isn't even exclusive to the east coast for that matter. I have squatted and repped my way all across this great nation and let me tell you — I would bet not just one but both shoes involved in my beloved pair of Ryka Grafik 2s (here they are on Amazon: https://amzn.to/2r6llLV) that the plague of blatant misogynistic behavior of men towards women at the gym has crept its way from sea to shining sea. Yes, I am talking about the staring, the creepy approaches, the touching, and even some wacko-kinky shit that happened to me recently which I will discuss in a moment. The bottom line is this: we are experiencing a national crisis of plummeting socially acceptable demeanor, folks, and it is time to speak up about it.

So here are the dirty details. According to a 2017 study conducted by a California joint-regional think tank with a primary focus on sports medicine and fitness, 79% of female gym attendees have reported incidents of indecent and misogynistic behavior while working out in a public gym. Seventy-fucking-nine percent! Crazy, right? Unfortunately, it gets worse. Of that 79%, nearly half of these women reported that the issues were recurring, often because of the same male individual. Hm, sound familiar?

Ashley from Oakland, CA states: "I literally can't even wear yoga pants anymore without getting stared at. It makes me extremely uncomfortable." No kidding, Ashley. Same problem over here in Brooklyn. I had to stop wearing my pair of Lululemons because of the eyes it drew to my posterior, only later to learn that the exact same design was being recalled due to the fabric being "too sheer." (On a side note, they fixed the design flaw and reissued the comfy pants: https://amzn.to/2FulspG). But the final straw was when I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror while bending over and could see not only the color but the outline and intricate lacework of my underwear right through the material, as if I were wearing some kind of pervy X-ray glasses. But I digress...

As sexist as it might be, I am no dummy. Nope. I can identify what is really going on here: men like nice asses. Us hot girls usually come fully equipped with said nice asses. But don't think for a second that just because you feel tempted to stare means it is acceptable to follow through with those urges. Being ogled like a piece of meat is not flattery. Best case scenario: you make a woman very uncomfortable.

Worst case scenario: you get her to quit her gym membership.

That is precisely what happened to Tristyn from Coral Springs, FL. Oh, did I mention this was a national crisis? Similar studies have since been conducted along the east coast and in both public and private gym locations while online and on-site anonymous surveys at fitness centers across the nation have allowed women to address their concerns regarding overt male sexism, discrimination, and general creepiness. The overall vibes are chilling, to say the least, and quite telling about the current state of affairs in terms of the lack of respect that women experience at the gym.

In Tristyn's case, a particular male gym attendee repeatedly made advances on her while running next to her on the treadmill. Yes, quite creepy, but not as creepy as this little, minor detail: he was running in place on the floor beside her.

The gym is supposed to be a personal, nearly sacred place where one can go to not only work on their figure and stay in shape but to blow off steam and enjoy the solitude that only intense focus can afford herself. Try attaining any level of intense focus when you have the male eyes of the room undressing you from top to bottom.

Simon and Garfunkel weren't fucking around when they were expressing the importance of the sound of silence. Talking at the gym, at least in Brooklyn, is basically entirely taboo. Unless it is relevant to the immediate situation at hand, like notifying someone that they forgot to wipe down their equipment (major pet peeve of mine), the best policy is the silent policy.

Now don't get me wrong, I love a good conversation as much as anyone else who considers themselves sociable and relatively extroverted, but the gym is hardly the place to ask, mid-deadlift, how I feel about the whole Stormy Daniels issue.

Yes, this happened, and yes, I lost count of my reps.

(And no, this is not the terrifying story I alluded to earlier. I will get to that in just a moment.)

I have been hit on by men as old as 40. The gym is like a salt lick for pale, balding, creeps who are clearly more interested in scoping out potential female "tail" than they are in picking up a set of dumbbells and trying to regain some semblance of a healthy male physique.

I had an acquaintance of mine relay a frightening experience about how a man approached her during her workout, claiming to be a "freelance personal trainer."

This freak proceeded to neg her, then dare to instruct her on her form, then hang around with a smirk on his face even after she asked him to back off. He eventually did, only to show up behind her as she unfurled her yoga mat, putting his hands around her waist and thoroughly scaring the bejeezus out of her. She nearly physically assaulted him out of reflex at this point but was quick to regain composure and promptly picked up her mat and left.

Needless to say, she has not been back.

Gyms have always been depicted as the classic haven for meatheads and lowbrow protein junkies, but they are increasingly becoming a popular hangout for an entirely new and equally unwanted demographic: certified perverts.

Tara from Middletown, CT reports that she was literally groped at the gym by an overweight "doctor" who pretended he recognized her as one of his patients. After telling him repeatedly that he had the wrong person, Tara left the building, only to be followed out to her car. It was at this point where the man reached out and grabbed her buttocks as she placed her gym bag into trunk. Thankfully, he was arrested.

Elizabeth, a 40-year-old high school teacher from Odessa, TX, cites an incident in which a former student was caught in the mirror leering at her by one of her women friends that she worked out with. She ignored the awkwardness and kept to her workout. Moments later, as she was headed to the water fountain, the man approached her and alludes to his attraction towards her, as well as her friend, suggesting that the three of them "go back to his place to Netflix & chill."

Okay, I know you are all dying to hear about that utterly freaky, disgusting, and completely horrifying personal story I had planned on sharing with you. Well here you go...

Be me: I finally arrive at the gym after a long and tiring work day, ready to sweat out the last of my energy reserve before retiring to my apartment for the night.

I take my gym bag into the locker room, change out of my office clothes, put on fresh underwear and socks along with my workout attire, and hit the elliptical.

Being the New Yorkinite that I am, I usually travel light and classy, and so I opt to keep my bag next to me rather than bother with a locker that I would otherwise likely forget about anyway. Ordinarily this would have been no big deal but on this particular day it was a major mistake.

I blow through my first few sets and place my bag on the seat of the machine so as to denote that it is still in my possession while I walk across the gym to refill my water bottle (it depicts an uber-dope, super-cute-cat-slash-unicorn hybrid, likely my favorite spirit animal out of the entire congregation of my eternally expanding herd of spirit animals: https://amzn.to/2rF5Afa). Within the time it took me to cross the floor, replenish my water supply and return, someone had thought it would be acceptable to push my bag onto the floor and jump on my machine.

That someone introduced himself as "Greg." He said he was "very sorry." So sorry, in fact, that he managed to accidentally open the side zipper of my bag, examine my work badge, and address me
by name when I inquired about just what the fuck he thought he was doing.

Now, obviously I didn't use those exact words at first, hoping upon all hope that he made a forgivable blunder, but all of said hope was immediately dashed when he actually called me "Staci" before I even thought to, or cared, to tell him my name. That was when it all started to click.

The shock of seeing my bag on the floor and a strange man now occupying my machine was enough for me to overlook the fact that the side compartment was open. When I finally noticed this, I asked him why he went into my bag. He denied it. I looked around me and no one else seemed to be paying attention, which I thought was rather odd, but then again this is New York.

Greg offers to buy me an "iced coffee." Aw, how sweet! But no, Greg, I think I will pass, thank you.

I instinctively check to ensure that my wallet and phone were still in the bag along with my cash and credit cards. Without another word, I storm off with my belongings, intent on flagging down a gym employee to report the incident. Unfortunately when I finally do find someone and relay my story, Greg was nowhere to be seen.

Ladies and gentlemen, this is the world we are living in today. This is the community of the health-conscious elite, now thoroughly infested with perverted misogynist assholes who care only about their own twisted gratifications that often come at the expense of someone else. It is utterly shocking that in 2018 we are even forced to have this conversation. It is shocking that we are left with the dire need of having to draw attention to something as sophomoric and uncultured as sexism at the gym. The fact that it exists in the first place, after how far we have come since the dawn of the first "come here often?" slipped the lips of the first muscled jerkboy, is a disgusting bit of information that I am reluctant to have to sit here and accept. It certainly begs the question that perhaps we, as a society which prides itself on the idea of fostering mutual respect, have not advanced our culture and humanism all that notably after all. Is this really just "the way it is?"

Here's a concept: I say we make it the way that was. Next time you hit the treadmill, envision yourself acting as the whole of humanity, running headlong into the gleaming lights of a brighter future for women. (Okay, that last bit was a tad silly but you guys get me and that is why I love you.)

When I got home the night that Greg assaulted me, it suddenly dawned on me that I hadn't even bothered to check the main compartment of my bag...

Lo and behold, my underwear was missing, as were both of the sweaty socks I had been wearing all day.


— S