Decolonizing Fitness

Check out the definition of Toxic Fitness Culture  if you aren't familiar.   Some Example of Toxic Fitness Culture: The promotion of fitness the sole purpose of weight loss. The belief that fit has a look. Personal trainers unwilling or unable to modify exercises that support your unique body. The belief that you’re not working hard enough if you haven’t achieved thinness. Personal trainers who aren’t registered dietitians giving diet advice. Personal trainers who don’t believe you when you need to stop and encourage you to push through pain. The belief that beating your body up makes for a good workout....

Greetings Everyone Candace and I are very excited to announce some things we are rolling out for the Decolonizing Fitness Podcast in 2020 which is currently available on SoundCloud, ITunes & Spotify. Ilya I’m a Physical Therapist Assistant and Personal Trainer specializing in Medical Exercise. I ​am the owner of Decolonizing Fitness. My weight neutral, compassionate, trauma informed care comes from all the bullshit I’ve been through as a fat, black, non binary trans person with mental health issues and chronic medical conditions. I’m an educator whose work centers gender, racial and healing justice. I am a freelance writer and have contributed to ​EveryDay Feminism​,...

Radically Fit Oakland As a queer woman of color who was adopted by a white couple in the 80’s I have grown up feeling out of place in most spaces. It’s hard to make your way through the world, as most people of color do, searching to find a space to safely take up. It took me many years to get to the point where I started demanding that space. Fitness was a huge catalyst for how I approached walking through life as a bigger bodied queer woman of color. I first fell in love with fitness ten years ago,...

The first magical skill I learned was how to change a flat tire on a bicycle. I was twenty years-old and had recently obtained my first queer haircut. Loitering on the lawn of the college bike collective, I watched as groups of two to three intimidating-looking dykes hovered around upside down bicycles holding wrenches and greasy rags. I was desperate to pick up some mechanical skills to bolster my baby butch ego, but the shame of not even knowing where to start forced me to keep on walking. I spent the following summer learning bike mechanics from a local nonprofit...