I was left scarred after boys at school banned me from gym showers

I soon became the easy target for school bullies, says Jamie (Picture: Jamie Windust)

Entering the boys’ changing room, sweaty and puffing, my heart was pounding.  

Sure, I was exhausted from the PE class I’d just done, but that wasn’t the real reason I was in fight or flight mode.  

Approaching the showers, the remark from a fellow student came like clockwork: ‘Don’t let that bender in here!’  

I was 14 at the time and I wasn’t even out as gay or non-binary then. But this had a profound effect on me – to the point where I couldn’t step foot in a gym until over a decade later.  

I had started middle school at 13 and with it came a new cohort of boys on the precipice of puberty. As hormones were flying and we all began our journeys into becoming teenagers, I struggled to make friends. We didn’t share any common interests and I soon became the easy target.  

Every PE lesson would be the same, explains Jamie (Picture: Jamie Windust)

From that moment on, every PE lesson would be the same. And I wasn’t the only one singled out.  

There were two other boys in my class – one who was physically disabled and another who was very shy – who would be told by the popular boys group to change in the corner.  

This progressed to not allowing us to shower, me especially. If I even tried to, they would get their towels ready to whip me away.  

Not only was it sad on a social level, it also prevented me from finding any enjoyment whatsoever in the sports that we were doing. This ostracisation would follow me from the changing rooms onto the pitch, where I would be put in goal or ultimately never picked to be a part of anyone’s team. 

I was 14 at the time and I wasn’t even out as gay or non-binary then (Picture: Gareth Cattermole/Getty Images for GAY TIMES)

As a result, I feared fitness spaces or any areas where team sports were encouraged for years to come. I would actively avoid even going into shops that sold activewear and I didn’t go to the gym – it eventually had an impact on the way I saw food. Since I became fearful of exercise, I watched what I ate more closely, so as not to gain weight and keep myself slim and ‘healthy’.  

It was during the pandemic that I found a way to exercise without the watchful eye of potential bullies – going for walks or working out in the park. 

When left to my own devices and stripped back from the world – I realised that there is joy and accessibility to exercise. I just had to find it for myself and that was the realisation that pushed me to find a fitness community.  

I realised that there is joy and accessibility to exercise (Picture: Jamie Windust)

Once we were able to safely migrate back into society I decided to join the gym aged 25 – which was a vast emporium of machines and classes and keycodes and instructions. Still, I felt I was only allowed to use certain equipment; that the weights and strength areas weren’t for someone like me.  

I was out as queer and had been living as a non-binary person for 10 years so I wasn’t shy about my identity, and would go to the gym with painted nails, concealer and mascara on.  

But the gym was populated with younger men in groups that replicated the energy I had experienced in the changing rooms at school. Although I didn’t experience direct homophobia or transphobia, I didn’t feel like I could freely express myself without fear of bumping into those men in the changing rooms.

There were no gender neutral spaces other than the disabled bathroom either, so my anxiety grew greater with every trip there.   

I’m proud that I’ve still been able to give myself the gift of exploring fitness for myself (Picture: Jamie Windust)

Now aged 28, I am a member at a much smaller, more bespoke gym because I know that to feel comfortable and safe, I like a smaller environment with less people, and more assistance from trainers or coaches.  

There is a collective feeling of community that I haven’t felt before.  

There is a diverse age range of men and women of all different body types who are in the space to get fit, get strong and be active – just like me.    

Even from the initial tour, I noticed gender neutral facilities and an emphasis on treating the individual as an athlete and a fitness-lover rather than just a customer.    

I felt so welcomed by this gym that I decided to share my sexuality and gender identity with the instructors, since they had nurtured an environment where I felt able to bring my whole self to the space. 

There is a collective feeling of community that I haven’t felt before (Picture: Gareth Cattermole/Getty Images for GAY TIMES)

I sent an email, sharing that I was a new member and enjoying my time there, and that I was also non-binary so I use ‘they/them’ pronouns. I wanted to ask if they could let any trainers or teachers whose classes I attend know.  

It was scary to hit send on the email, but it felt right.  

My email was met with a level of respect and gratitude that felt like a turning point in my relationship to fitness. They replied that I was ‘most welcome’ in the facilities and that they’d ‘let the team know’ so that I was ‘comfortable’.  

I felt instant relief.  

Now, when I’m spotting my partner in a strength class, my identity is a non-issue. We’re there to focus on our fitness – and that’s all.  

But what I love the most, and ultimately respect, is that if there ever was an issue – because homophobia and transphobia is still ever present in the world we live in – that I have an ally in the team. To me, that’s priceless.  

Looking back, I’m proud that – despite the bullying and the tarnished experience of sport that I had as a young person – I’ve still been able to give myself the gift of exploring fitness for myself.  

I didn’t have that chance as a child, but now I can make sure that I give myself the opportunity to find out who I am and what I enjoy doing in fitness spaces without fear.

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