The gym can be an extremely daunting place. Every turn you take you’re confronted with either ultra-macho men hogging the squat rack, or toned beautiful women who leave you quivering with envy. Now, imagine finally plucking up the courage to start, but before you’ve even had a chance, you feel a pair of eyes lasered into you. What follows is almost always an uncomfortable exchange that leaves you feeling rattled and frustrated.

Moving forward you choose your workout times carefully and favour a pair of long leggings over shorts. These creepy encounters have been occurring for decades, but thankfully today we have the technology to capture them.

Catching these scenarios has become commonplace on TikTok. Primarily sitting under the tag #weirdguysatthegym—which has already amassed over 18.8 million views—numerous users have posted videos covertly documenting their experience. Setting up their phones in a discreet place, they’ve managed to record the moments in which men begin to harass or bother them.

While this doesn’t happen exclusively to women, it’s important to recognise that they are the primary victims of unwanted attention.

@paytonflynn_

before you come at me, he knew I was recording and has made multiple highly inappropriate comments to me. #fitnesscontentcreator #gymcontentcreator #gymsafety #gymtok #gymvlog #girlswholift #gymcreeps

♬ Creepy and simple horror background music(1070744) - howlingindicator

@theycallmedilemma

This the first video I’ve ever taken in the gym of myself working out🤦🏼‍♀️ #gymcreeps #mncheck

♬ original sound - Emma Mueller

One such example is TikTok creator Gina Love. In a video that currently has almost 700,000 views, Love is filming herself while she does a leg workout. The caption reads “watch this creep come over to my personal bubble.”

In the clip, the man stands directly behind Love as she lifts dumbbells before deciding to leave. According to Love, the gym was practically empty but the stranger still chose to take a spot directly behind her.

Speaking with The Guardian, the creator explained: “I would say I experience creeps 15 per cent of the times I work out. It’s almost like they’re trying to undress you in their heads.”

Love continued, “It makes me feel disgusted, anxious, and my survival instinct kicks in. I’ll typically cut my workout short because I can’t get back into feeling comfortable with that person around me.”

@ginaveelay

Be careful out here girlies cause wtf #creep #weirdo #gymcreep #k18results #gymweirdshit #awareness #awarenessvideo #creepyguys #fyp #viral #fyp #gymprobblems #gymissues #inconsiderate #inconsideratepeople #selfawareness #selfaware #danger #creepy #creepyguystaring #creepyguystory #creepyguywithacamera #workingout #fitness

♬ original sound - Gina

It’s also incredibly crucial to remember that unwanted attention can also come in the form of unnecessary and unwarranted staring. Being on the receiving end of some heavy staring can be an incredibly uncomfortable experience—and it’s often something we as women are told to simply “get over,” or “take as a compliment.”

@fit_with_heidi

Don’t sit there and tell me you’re not doing something when I have proof. 😡 #gymtok #fittok #influencer #viral #trending #tiktok #fitness #gym #gymgirl #fyp #fypシ #foryou #foryoupage #gymcreeps

♬ Real As It Gets - Lil Baby

A study in 2021 by My Protein showed that 76 per cent of women felt uncomfortable exercising in public. Moreover, 63 per cent of women stated that they change their behaviour depending on who is in the gym around them.

@songetac

It’s actually annoying, the last time I tried to expose this guy tiktok took it down #gym #cantstretchinpeace #creepy #fyp #lafitness

♬ Somebody's Watching Me - Rockwell

Often, women who speak out about this form of harassment are told that they’re overreacting, and some critics even say that they’re acting out of line by deceiving the men and hiding their cameras. Did I hear someone say victim blaming?

Some of the comments under Love’s video for example indicate this kind of mentality. One user wrote: “you don’t own the corner,” while another put “bruh some girls are delusional.” There were also, of course, a slew of presumably male users who deemed it appropriate to comment statements such as “nothing to look at anyway” and “what is there to stare at?”

The problem with this kind of nonchalance in regard to unwanted attention at the gym, is that it normalises viewing women as physical and sexual objects—a misogynistic ideology that doesn’t seem to be disappearing from society.

It also further perpetuates the idea that these forms of harassment are illegitimate and should not be taken seriously. The more we talk about these encounters, the greater empowerment we give women to expose them.

Women exercising should not be some kind of spectacle or show. They shouldn’t have to adjust their wardrobe choices out of fear or anxiety and they definitely shouldn’t have to wield an iPhone in order to work out safely and comfortably.

After an excruciating day, just like a majority of gen Zers and millennials, I like to hop onto Instagram in an attempt to find escapism inside the bottomless world of short-form video content. As I giggle at choreographed dance moves, seamless transitions, and Swifties inferring new Easter eggs in Taylor Swift’s music videos, I come across a rather peculiar clip.

Initially, it shows me a video highlighting the likes of Harry Styles, Lil Nas X, and Conan Gray—seemingly celebrating them for donning enchanting skirts. Within a matter of seconds however, a young man emerges displaying his “dumb-bell strength,” glorifying his well-built body while heralding those who do not look like him: inferior.

The creator’s comments section is packed with over 80,000 followers agreeing in tandem as they cement conventional masculinity and name-call men who chose to defy traditional gender stereotypes by sporting garments deemed ‘feminine’ by society.

As I scroll further, Instagram’s algorithm, prompted by its thinly-veiled homophobia, recommends content similar to the first Reel I came across—both of which seem to reinforce a stringent narrative that masculinity must be confined with rigidity as a primary attribute.

In a bid to unpack the phenomenon, SCREENSHOT spoke with queer poet Ashish. “That’s bizarre to me. If one carefully glances at the pictures of Styles or Lil Nas X, they’d know that even though they are in touch with their feminine alchemy, their masculinity remains intact,” Ashish shared. “A man can have an iron-clad body and [don] a dress if he wants to. It’s like dressing up in black all the time and then taking pride in it by demeaning those who flaunt colours.”

Chaitanya, a marketing professional at Penguin Random House, attempted to understand this way of thinking by stating: “I think the urge of people who try to build their own masculinity by throwing others under the bus, or establish a pedestal claiming they are higher by questioning other’s way of living, stems from their own insecurity.”

The expert went on to add: “They have this constant need to cement those who aren’t like them as outcasts—and walk over them to herald their supremacy. They’ve been wanting to resonate a certain kind of masculinity but even when they attain that physically, their insecurity stays. A man who’s sheltered in his vigour would never demean others to reinforce his.”

Creators like Jacob Rott, Siddhartha Batra, and Nic Kauffman justify the blurred-line discourse exceptionally well. With iron-clad bodies straight out of a romance novel, these men aren’t shy in embracing crop tops, nail polish, and skirts as well—it does not shrink their masculinity in any way. If anything, it broadens the definition of it.

A few scrolls further and my eyes are greeted by another viral trend where gym bros indulge in something which displays their delicacy—like adding pads to their barbell or sanitising treadmills before use. In the midst of these scenarios, a voice echoes “gay” and the individuals on camera instantly abandon their actions faster than the speed of light.

 

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In these episodes of ridiculous notions, problematic typecasts are reinforced. Primarily, these videos juxtaposes the rationale that men are inherently impenetrable, and therefore do not need a pad on their barbells. In this problematic trend, it’s the voice inside their heads which inflicts the term “gay” as disgrace for taking part in certain pursuits. This hatred towards the LGBTQIA+ community is subconscious and, on the surface, is illusioned as a mere joke.

“I identify as straight, but a few of my friends often refer to me as ‘Meetha’ [a slang term which refers to ‘gay’ in his native language],” said a 21-year-old content creator who chose to remain anonymous. “Reason? I can’t do push-ups with the same efficacy as they do, I get tired way more easily than they do. The term doesn’t bother me at all, but what does is the fact that they use someone’s identity as a slang.”

Not only do these trends spread homophobia like a prejudiced ordinance, they indirectly gatekeep gyms from the queer community. For a lot of people belonging to this circle, their body has always been a mere receptacle for other’s opinion, and such content accentuates that very sentiment.

In a research conducted by equality rights group Stonewall, two-thirds of LGBTQIA+ pupils stated that they don’t like team sports. One’s world view is often shaped by their formative years and this subliminal prejudice deters these students from making physical education a part of their lives.

These sentiments were reinforced by Nishant, a software developer who considers gyms to be a physical manifestation of a masculine hell-hole. “I have tried going to the gym, but I am always glanced at as if I’m a criminal pariah of some sort. When I tried to exercise using machines, I’d witness others giggling at my failure to lift weights. My trainer called me and said to stop walking and talking like girls. I felt so intimidated that I quit after two weeks.”

Nishant continued: “I am a man, and I do not think my masculinity is any less just because some of my attributes seem feminine to others, but the place made me feel that way. To this day, I cannot walk past a gym or a well-built man without an eerie chill down my spine.”

PhD student Benjamin Weil shared a “Queer’s Guide” for prospective gymgoers on Medium and stated: “Gym anxiety or gymphobia is real. I would know: the very thought of going to the gym a couple of years ago used to break me out into an anxious sweat. On my way to the gym, I would sometimes have panic attacks so severe I would have to abandon the mission and head home again. This anxiety was, of course, compounded by my own struggles with my body image. I wanted to go to the gym but felt utterly unable to. A predictable cycle of shame and self-loathing.”

Kartik, a 23-year-old analyst at a consulting firm, also spoke to me about similar feelings: “Such content is just one example of society’s determination with cementing the only kind of masculinity they deem fit. It leaves people like me, not fitting in those parameters, questioning ourselves. I am a man, I identify as one, but when I see videos like these, my existence trembles.”

According to the American Heart Association, while many factors are at play, barriers that drive sexual minority teens away from physical education classes and team sports are particularly significant. The problem with this narrative is that it isn’t confined to schools—as they grow up, this discourse stays with them and they do not think of fitness circles as safe spaces.

Chaitanya went on to vocalise his personal experiences. “As a bisexual man, when I enter the gym, I sometimes feels intimidated. No one in particular does anything to me, but I have this feeling that maybe I am not masculine enough with respect to the idea of the alpha male often propagated and that does bother me.”

“I have straight friends who wear rings, nail paints, are heavily ripped, and are the sweetest people I know. I understand that masculinity is for individuals to define and I hope the ones who spew hatred comprehend this too,” he added.

When Styles or Lil Nas X don a dress, conventional toughness trembles, so much so that people get incredibly insecure about their own masculinity. A genderless future does not seek the abandonment of masculinity, but simply expands the boundaries of the same. Just because a man decides to wear a skirt if he pleases, he is in no way lesser than one who does not deem it fit. In case we’ve forgotten, garments do not come with their genders inherited.

For a community which has been witnessing hatred and prejudice for decades, these trends not only propagate resentment but tend to even gatekeep fitness. As Slate noted, “homophobia is a good time to remember that gym culture wouldn’t exist without queer people.”