Episode 18: I'm thinking about the Kavanaugh hearing again.
a thing I learned lifting weights through the #metoo movement
October 2018
The Peets on Lakeshore is too crowded. Why are these other people up early on a Saturday? A line of people ready to order. A clump of people waiting for their drinks to come up. A swarm buzzing around the lids and stir sticks and packets of raw sugar. One of the perks of dragging myself out of bed before 7am on the weekend is supposed to be moving around the East Bay without the usual friction. But here I am, retrieving a latte, tolerating the humans. Barely.
Back in my car, I text my sister:
Kelly: I almost shoved a man in Peets. I was putting sugar in my coffee. He walked up behind me and reached around to get a lid. I was so close to assaulting him.
Shannon: This is me. Men should know better. Keep your distance right now. And don’t, under any circumstance, approach from behind. Every woman in America is triggered.
On the drive from Oakland to El Cerrito, I think about it.
Every woman in America is triggered. That hadn’t occurred to me, but of course. The Kavanaugh hearing has felt unavoidable. Not that I’ve been trying to avoid it, but the coverage is everywhere. Quotes from Christine Blasey Ford’s testimony. Photos of Kavanaugh’s red face. Another big wave of #metoo testimonials crashing across social media. So many women with the same story. High school and college parties. Rapey frat boys. Your fear is their favorite punch line.
Underneath it all, a soup of panic, rage, and despair over the fact that we don’t have the political power to stop something like this from happening in 2018. Kavanaugh is going to be put on the Supreme Court by a guy elected president AFTER seventeen different women accused him of sexual assault. He’s gonna show up to work with Clarence Thomas, whose nomination was confirmed after he was accused of sexual harassment.
I feel wired and fucked up and ready to fight anyone who comes near me. It’s possible that other women feel that way, too. It’s possible that I’m about to teach a strength-training class full of women who feel wired and fucked up and ready to fight.
I spend the rest of my drive mentally revamping the plan for class.
I forgot how good the view is. Kensington Park is etched into the side of a hill above the Arlington. When I line up exercise mats along the edge of the flat square field, I can see the bay down below. The marine layer hasn’t dissipated yet. This group is prompt, so by 9am my view of the water is obstructed by East Bay parents, young professionals, a trio of spry grandparents, and Henry, the small white dog. New folks have joined since the last time I taught this class. Introduce myself, “I’m Kelly. I used to be a Lift & Sprint coach and I’m really happy to be back subbing for Amy and Nic.” I decide, on the fly, to tell the class about how my body has responded to the Kavanaugh hearing. This is not how we normally start things, but no one’s making faces or walking away. I keep going:
Just in case anyone else’s nervous system is in a similar state, we’re gonna do things a little differently today. I spread out your matts. Everyone is going to get extra space today. On the board we got a list of exercises, and the idea is to go through these moves at your own pace. No timer telling you when to switch exercises. No rushing to get in as many reps as possible. No partner exercises. You’re just gonna stay in your own zone.
These are all movements that work well when done slowly, like tempo squats, single leg romanian deadlifts, and turkish get ups. We’ve also got some balance work sprinkled in there. We’re holding warrior three. We’re doing side planks. We’re also going to spend a little more time than normal warming up and cooling down.
I know some of you like to crank up the intensity. Remember that slow can be intense. Stillness can be intense. If you stay focused, this can still be a challenging workout.
As we warm up, I remind the group that sometimes, when we slow down, things come up. You’re allowed to do what you need to do to take care of yourself. Take breaks, make changes, walk around. No one objects.
They try doing the thing I programmed, and people seem to have a nice time. At the end of class, some of the women I’ve known for years come up to talk more about the Kavanaugh hearings. We laugh when someone says, “This is what happens when your trainer used to be a Women’s Studies professor.”
February 2024
I’ve found myself thinking about that class recently. I don’t know if the actual adjustments I made to the workout that day helped anyone feel safer or better in their body. I’ve not been specifically trained in trauma-informed strength training or yoga. I was just doing the things that make me feel grounded and connected to myself when I’m pulled into a trauma response. Stuff I’ve learned in yoga teacher trainings and powerlifting. Stuff I picked up doing Viewpoints and Suzuki and contact improv and all of the other physical theater techniques I studied over the years. But I was definitely winging it, making changes on the fly in the car as I drove from Lake Merritt to the Arlington. I knew I needed to do something. I needed to take the information in my own body and let it have an effect on how I did things. I knew it would feel bad to shove that information in a closet and charge ahead like everything in the world is normal.
Earlier this afternoon I saw an image of Aaron Bushnell on fire in front of the Israeli Embassy. My government won’t stop giving Israel money to slaughter people. The death of Nex Benedict is still stuck in my throat. And then I had to get into the car and drive to an appointment with a bodyworker. I’ve been in pain for a week. My SI joint is twisted and pinched. This happens sometimes. Things are heartbreaking and WRONG, and yet there are bills to pay and appointments to make.
There was something helpful about what happened on that Saturday morning in 2018. It’s good to feel a feeling and respond to that feeling by making some room – in space and time – to hold it while still moving through the day. It’s not a replacement for engaging in activism or organizing or taking other concrete actions to create alternate futures. But maybe creating space makes it possible to take action instead of shutting down.
I’m curious about how other coaches and teachers navigate these issues, so I decided to reach out to some of my friends and former colleagues in the yoga and fitness world and chat about it. In the coming weeks I’ll be sharing interviews with these lovely people. We’re going to talk about how they make space for personal and collective trauma in their teaching and in their own movement practices. If you have any questions that you’d like to add to the list, pop ‘em in the comments!
And I’m sorry I didn’t get to pay you a visit last week. I was out sick and trying to be a responsible steward of this meat suit! I’m happy to be back and really looking forward to delivering these upcoming interviews to your inboxes.
The RAGE I felt after that hearing - it's indelible in the hippocampus. I was looking for any excuse to get violent. Nice to read so many were in the same company. Thanks for your powerful writing, as always.