The Joys of Black People in White Spaces
I go to Equinox. I think of it as a White People Gym™. Is that fair? Well, this is the first ad I ever remember seeing for them.

What exactly are we committing to? An aryan cult? Washboard abs? Both? Unclear. To their credit, I once responded to a survey mentioning that I felt the gym lacked diversity and they wrote back to me the same day with an acceptable and sincere response.
Anyway, I decided to join at the end of 2016 six months after I graduated grad school and put on more weight than I’d care to admit. (Oh, you couldn’t tell? How kind. I believe you but my closet knows my secret– it’s a mixed blessing.) Why this gym? I love classes and I am anti-ClassPass since they nearly doubled their rates and their cold-hearted email team gave zero fucks during the transition even though I was totally obsessed and participated in all their community building contests. How rude! So I swore to myself I’d never go back to them – but where was I to go if I wanted rigorous physical activity but didn’t want to to juggle multiple boutique memberships?? One luxury place with top of class fitness classes and spa-like amenities built into the fee. All Kiehl’s soaps and creams? Razors, shower caps, *mouthwash*, and steam room too? Don’t mind if I do! So, see? I was sold.
This afternoon I went to work out and get a massage to close out my birthday month. Let me start by saying, I’m always pretty self-conscious. I think it is a defense strategy to help me stay alive in potentially dangerous situations. And, I think being a Black woman in a white people gym warrants that reflex activation.
I went to gym off hour so instead of a class I sweated it out on an elliptical. The ellipticals have three TV’s in front of them. One is permastuck on Fox News (keeps me exposed to other ideas?), one usually has ESPN, and the other a wildcard. I watched a bit of Carly Fiorina on Fox talking about McCain but when they switched to a segment about one of the Cosby Show actors being spotted working at a New Jersey Trader Joe’s I promptly lost interest (not real news!! where’s the reporting on trying to steal Hispanic Americans’ citizenship?!). It was at this time a commercial on another screen caught my eye.
Serena. The new Nike ad with childhood and current footage. Here I was, on a fucking elliptical (#basic) and on the TV I got to see a beautiful lady kicking ass in a sport some would say isn’t meant for Us. And there was her dad, coaching her, since she was tiny, and my heart swelled I literally wanted to cry, even despite the older white guy on the machine next to me. And then? The very next commercial was her looking glamorous while literally running and doing errands in a Chase card commercial. ICON. And I felt happy for her, and more secure about myself. So, I didn’t cry, I ran (ellipticalled?) faster.
The real magic of today’s gym experience though was my massage. So long ago I don’t even remember (winter? This year, last? Some other time?) I got a free chair massage at the gym because that sporadically happens at Equinox (#whitegym, srsly you gotta get yourself one of these!) from a Black woman and it was SO memorable (because it was so good) that earlier this month when I was offered a 25% off deal for my birthday I jumped at the chance to finally get a full massage with her. (N.b: tip on the full price!)
After my workout I took a nice long shower, shaved, and put on a plush robe and slippers and went over to the spa. And then I met up with her and she was like, “I didn’t know it was you, Courtney!” Oh recognition! And even after all the unknown time that had elapsed she even remembered my problem areas. We proceeded into the room and talked about more of what is currently bothering me physically and then I mini-freaked out because in my haste to scurry over post my accidentally long shower I, umm, forgot to put on anything under my robe and you know what she said when I offered to go back and get more dressed? “Don’t worry about it, however you’re comfortable is fine.”
However I’m comfortable?!? I’m never comfortable!
I went along with it, tried something new.
And then I started thinking to myself… this is the first time I’ve ever been massaged by a Black American woman. The closest I’ve had to a feeling of camaraderie in a massage situation was once in Peace Corps I treated myself to one in Marrakech and the woman thought I was from Egypt “because I had an accent”, I was flattered, and, it being at least eight years ago, it was otherwise unmemorable so presumably good.
So today I put my trust and naked body in the care of a Black woman and it was incredible. I realized just how in my head I am about beauty and therapy sessions. How is this this XYZ person viewing my body, hair, overall presentation? Do they think I’m going to tip badly and give me bad service that becomes a self fulfilling prophesy? (Maybe but I have standard minimum tips unless an extreme example just to avoid such conclusions)
My massage was amazing. Her hands were strong and skilled. She worked into my neck (the kitchen!) where my twists are currently in a ‘need refresh’ or need to be taken out state and I didn’t even mind. She touched me in the places I try to forget exist, the places my own grandmother referred to once while clothes shopping in high school with disdain saying, “you can’t have that stuff (fat) hanging off you like that.” She touched me and I wasn’t embarrassed. And I relaxed. And heaven forbid, I tried to enjoy myself! It was quite hard because in the moment I was so aware of all of these things and I was overcome with joy.
This was the best massage I’ve had in Boston, maybe the best massage I’ve ever had. And I don’t mean that hyperbolically or merely because of all the social dynamics in my own head, girlfriend is a skilled masseuse! If I had more money I would have had a longer session and would plan regular visits. Aspirations!
One of the more poignant factors of this experience for me was that white bodies are so frequently/historically accustomed to the services of Black people. The most unusual factor in the experience was that the client was me, some little Black girl. I Loved that on top of it all, it was an expensive massage, not because I love spending money (because I don’t) but because it means presumably she’s getting Paid! So often the services black and brown people do receive relatively low financial compensation and they’re not for the benefit of our own communities but to make life easier for white people (frankly). That we could be in an exchange where I could pay for a luxury and be met with someone familiar seeming is in many ways worth more than what they charged, but don’t tell them that! Reparations discount?
And that, is how I had a magical Black girl experience in a white people gym.
You want to experience this too? You don’t have to be a member to get services at the spa! My masseuse’s name is Zaina and we were at Equinox Franklin Street, where the Spa Manager is also a Black woman. And this is not a paid promotion. It is a recounting of a bomb ass, emotionally gratifying experience.


