Apparently, a sports bra is more offensive than a deadlift. These days, walking into the gym in fitted leggings isn’t just a fitness decision, it’s a feminist statement.
It’s always in the glances. The man who scans you up and down mid-reps. The woman who tugs her shirt lower as you walk past, silently reminding you what “modesty” supposedly looks like. The silence that falls when your gym outfit hugs tightly, shows some skin, or you simply existing unapologetically.
To many people, your outfit says everything—about your self-worth, your intentions, your values. Before you hit your first rep, you’ve been labelled: you didn’t come to train, you came to seduce and tempt.
Why gym wear looks like this (and why it should)
Leggings weren’t designed to scandalise anyone. Neither were sports bras. They were made to help us move better, faster, longer. Breathable, sweat-wicking fabrics regulate temperature during high-intensity training. Seamless construction prevents painful chafing. We wear gym clothes because they work. Major brands like Nike, Gymshark, and Fabletics invest millions in research and development to create gym outfits that support women’s bodies. But here’s the uncomfortable truth: those same bodies have long been excluded from sports science. Until 1977, there was no such thing as a sports bra. That is less than 50 years ago.
Even today, women remain significantly underrepresented in athletic research and product testing. A 2023 report by Nike acknowledged this gap and launched new initiatives to invest in female-specific performance design. Gym outfits can be flattering, but more importantly, they are functional. They reflect years of progress in a space that historically ignored us. The leggings cling because they are built to support. Crop tops offer coverage and breathability where we need it most.
Gym clothes are designed to be technical garments that aid movement and fitness. The problem has never been what women wear but how people perceive our bodies. There’s always something to be scandalised about; back when women wore corsets the sight of an ankle was enough to cause outrage. Then it was hemline, then it was jeans, now it’s leggings and sports bra. The female body is constantly framed as a problem to solve, a temptation to cover, or a distraction to control. This obsession isn’t about modesty, it’s about power. And the gym, like many other public spaces, becomes another stage where that power play unfolds.
The double standards of gym wear: Who gets to be comfortable?
Recently, since more people have taken on fitness and going to the gym, there’s been a recurring topic of conversation, especially on social media. People are constantly dissecting women’s gym clothes, especially shorts, fitted leggings, and sports bras, claiming that there should be “decency” even while going to the gym. People film countless TikToks at the gym, claiming to “expose indecency.” The discomfort, really, isn’t about the clothes but about women being visibly confident in spaces where we were once meant to shrink. It’s the age-old idea of controlling and policing women’s clothing and ultimately, choices.
Double standards are glaring. Some men exercise shirtless and nobody bats an eye or calls them distractions. The moment a woman walks in with a defined waistline, suddenly the gym turns into a place of moral scrutiny. I’ve been there. The stares, comments, backhanded compliments, and trainers calling women “indecent”. I’ve watched men judge me while shamelessly adjusting their shorts mid-squat.
Society wants women who gym to have athletic discipline but the appearance of a nun. Strong, but not seen. Fit, but don’t show the work. Effort but without evidence.
My body is not the problem
I’ve cried—not out of shame, but from frustration. Tired of hiding in oversized clothes. Tired of pretending that I don’t love the way I look in my gym outfit that works just as hard as I do. I’ve fought for this body. For the strength, the self-love it takes to unapologetically wear a crop top. It is about me, my body, my sweat, my freedom. And it is not up for discussion.
You can’t shame me into shrinking
Remembering the long three months it took to convince my sister to start working out. She had just gone through a rough patch and wanted to feel stronger physically and mentally. But it took three hard months to get her through the gym doors. The fear of being seeing, not injury or exhaustion, held her back,.n. For her, the gym didn’t just feel like a space for fitness. It felt like a stage. The mirrors didn’t just reflect form. They mirrored judgment.
She had watched too many TikToks mocking women in shorts or lifting leggings. Too many viral tweets of people spending way too much time talking about women’s gym outfits like a weapon of seduction, a public offence. She believed walking into a gym meant people would dissect her for daring to show skin or be comfortable. I had to tell her the truth: Yes, some of the loudest critics are online, editing clips, passing judgment, and turning gym outfits into debates. But others are right there in the gym too, watching from the treadmill or whispering between reps. Still, for every stare or snide comment, there are also people just trying to focus on their own fitness.
Once she got in and started moving, she realised that the noise, while real, wasn’t as loud as the fear made it seem. Now, my sister lifts, sweats, and wears what makes her feel comfortable. She knows the actual noise wasn’t the gym. It was the patriarchal conditioning of expecting women to conform to certain standards.
So yes, I wear crop tops to the gym. I wear leggings that slide during burpees. I wear breathable sets in neutrals and sometimes neon pink when I need a boost. Because I want to move well and feel good while doing it. I don’t go to the gym to attract stares, and I won’t hide or shrink to make others comfortable. I personally go to the gym because it’s a place where I’ve rediscovered my strength. After losing so much weight in an effort to bulk up and regain my old body, the gym became where I rebuilt not just my physique, but my confidence. It’s where I prove to myself every day that my body is mine to shape, and my outfit choices, just like my workouts, are part of that personal journey.
Gym outfits are not a cry for attention. It is the uniform of a woman who knows exactly why she’s there: to build, sweat, and become stronger , healthier, and more confident in both body and mind.
