I’ve been thinking about rooms of our own, lately.
This post from Chally at Feministe about women-only train services, and this column by Clem Bastow about an unsuccessful attempt to obtain equal opportunity exemption for a women-only travel company, have been great reminders of the value of safe spaces. And how sometimes, a safe space is one without any men in it.
I go to a women-only gym. I happened to mention the name of my gym on Facebook a while back and an old friend (who is a sometime reader too, hello G) commented facetiously that he opposes the existence of my gym because providing chilled, scented towels only to women is unfair. It made me laugh because, yeah, I do love those towels. And I’m sure that more than a few men would appreciate them too, if only the management of their mixed gyms would show enough imagination to provide them.
But of course the point is, I don’t just go for the towels. I choose a women-only gym because
* The first gym I joined was mixed. I got sick of being made to wait all the time to use the weights while men ’saved’ them for each other. I got tired of exasperated stares as I adjusted the machines to fit my body and my strength level.
* I’m not co-ordinated, I’m not fashionable, and I’m fat. I’m pretty much okay with all of those things but there’s a lot of old baggage from PE class nightmares still banging around in my brain. And much of that baggage involves boys sniggering, staring or openly teasing. I know that most men are not boys anymore, and I know I’m a lot tougher now. Still, I would rather not be forced to revisit those tortured teenage feelings whenever some guy forgets his manners and stares or even sniggers. (And by the way, this has happened to me on the street so there’s no way it wouldn’t happen when I’m sweating and panting and jiggling at the gym.)
* My gym has a large, clean change area. It has amenities like the scented towels, and shower gel, and hair dryers. It isn’t smelly. There’s a massage chair in a dark, quiet room that women can book when they just want some relaxing time to themselves. The walls are decorated with images of women of all ages doing active things (not just ’sexy’ things). In other words, I’m part of the business’ target demographic, not an afterthought. I like that.
* The staff are all women. Whilst I’m sure there are many talented and empathetic male fitness trainers around, I just feel better working out with a woman. I feel safer mentioning period pain or my pelvic floor. If my breasts act like they’re trying to enter the earth’s atmosphere while I do step-ups, I don’t have to feel embarrassed. My body, in this space, is acceptable. Unremarkable.
* Women are relaxed at my gym. There is a lot of chatter and laughter (and not a lot of lycra). There is no one to dismiss this behaviour as ‘girlish’ or ‘frivolous’ or ‘boring’. Being with other women who feel safe and relaxed and open is refreshing and uplifting.
* Recently a woman was raped in the toilets after attending another local, mixed, fitness centre. In the most vital sense, my gym is a safe space.
There are a lot of unofficial women-only spaces in my life right now – more than ever before. Spending days with a small child and other at-home parents of small children will do that. Sometimes, I miss mixed company a little. Even so, I still appreciate the few hours a week I spend in a place where I feel catered to and valued and safe.
And until more of the world at large is able to mimic that atmosphere, we will need women-only spaces.*
*Importantly, some women will probably always require women-only spaces for religious or personal reasons. But, y’know, it’d be nice if aside from these caveats we could get to a point where something as simple as a gym felt fair and safe and comfortable for all women.

