A Lesbian Personal Trainer in Philadelphia on Strength, Stereotypes, and Being a Queer Woman
- 2 days ago
- 5 min read
I think a lot of queer women know exactly what I mean when I say this. There is this weird pressure, sometimes from straight people, sometimes from inside the community, to fit into some kind of aesthetic lane. Too masculine. Not masculine enough. Too feminine. Too into lifting. Not queer enough if you look one way. Too queer if you look another. It gets old.
I have felt that myself. As an out and proud lesbian, I have had people try to tell me who I am based on how I present, how I train, or what they think my body is supposed to say about me. It is such a strange thing to experience, especially when all you are really trying to do is take care of yourself. Some days you just want to work out without feeling like your whole identity is being quietly judged in the background.
And if you live in Philadelphia, you probably know how fast people can size you up. Philly is bold. Philly has opinions. I love that about this city, but it can also make you feel like you are being read the second you walk into a room. What neighborhood you live in, how you dress, who you date, how you carry yourself, whether you look more masc or femme that day. Sometimes it feels like everybody has a category ready for you before you even open your mouth.
That gets exhausting when all you are trying to do is train.
I know what it feels like to walk into a fitness space and feel hyperaware of yourself in a way that has nothing to do with the workout. You notice who is looking. You wonder if people are making assumptions. You start thinking about whether your clothes, your body, or your energy “fit” the room. Meanwhile, you are just trying to move, breathe, and maybe get stronger without feeling weird about it.
That feeling can take something that should be empowering and make it feel performative. It can make you second guess what you wear, where you stand, how heavy you lift, or whether you even belong there.
And honestly, that is part of why I care so much about coaching at Triad Wellness.
I want to say this as clearly as I can. You do not have to look like anybody else’s idea of what a queer woman should be to be healthy, strong, or confident in your body. You do not have to become more masc to lift weights. You do not have to become more feminine to belong in a yoga class. You do not have to chase a certain look just because other people are more comfortable when they can label you quickly.
You get to be who you are.

You get to decide what strong means to you. You get to decide what kind of body you want to live in. You get to care about your health because it matters to you, not because it helps you fit some image somebody else already had in their head.
That matters because research shows women in gym spaces often feel judged for both appearance and performance, and that kind of pressure makes movement harder to enjoy and harder to stick with [2]. For LGBTQIA+ people, body image can get even more complicated because minority stress and discrimination add another layer on top of the usual fitness noise [3]. So if you have ever felt self conscious, frustrated, or like you were somehow doing womanhood or queerness wrong in a fitness space, you are not imagining that. A lot of us have felt it.
That is one reason I love strength training so much. It gives you a chance to stop performing and start building. Research on women and resistance training shows it improves strength, body composition, bone health, self esteem, and body image [1].
That is huge. You are not just chasing a look. You are building a body that can actually support your life.
And for me, that is the whole point.
I want queer women in Philadelphia to feel stronger when they carry groceries up their steps, more confident when they walk into a gym, more comfortable in their skin, and less afraid of taking up space. I want them to know what it feels like to trust their own body again. I want them to experience that moment where they realize they are not shrinking anymore.
I have seen how much changes when someone starts training in a space where they do not feel like they have to explain themselves. They ask more questions. They stop apologizing. They move with less hesitation. They laugh more. They take up room. They start focusing on what their body can do instead of how it is being read by the people around them.
That matters to me as a coach. It matters to me as a lesbian. And it matters to me as someone who knows how healing it can feel to walk into a room and not have to brace yourself.
That is the kind of space I care about building at Triad.
I want all queer women to know there is room for you here. The masc girls. The femme girls. The women who are still figuring it out. The women who have never really felt comfortable in fitness spaces before. The women who are tired of being told who they are before they even say a word.
No judgment. No boxes. No need to be anyone but yourself.
You do not need a stereotype. You need support. You need a plan. You need a coach who understands that your goals are personal and that your body does not exist for other people’s assumptions.
If you are a queer woman in Philadelphia and you have been looking for a fitness space that actually feels good to walk into, I would love to help. If you are looking for a lesbian personal trainer in Philadelphia, or just someone who gets it and can help you get stronger, start with a No Sweat Intro. We can talk about your goals, your experience, and what kind of training would actually make sense for you.
Schedule your No Sweat Intro here: https://www.triadwellnessphilly.com/introcall
Citations
[1] Kraemer, W. J., et al. Evolution of resistance training in women: History and mechanisms for health and performance. 2025.[2] Cowley, E. S., and Schneider, J. “I sometimes feel like I can’t win!”: An exploratory mixed methods study of women’s body image and experiences of exercising in gym settings. PLOS ONE, 2025.[3] Santoniccolo, F., et al. The Relationship Between Minority Stress and Body Image: A Systematic Review of the Literature. 2025.



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