KENNY ETHAN JONES
Model and trans activist Kenneth Ethan Jones reveals the pain and anxiety he had to overcome to fulfil his desire for a muscular physique
Hitting the gym with the model and trans activist
Clueless of what was to follow, I was a happy child. I never understood gender, I was never dictated by it. I played with boys and girls, I lived in tracksuits and boyish attire.
It wasn’t until I turned 11 that my gender became an issue. To me, I was always that little boy, Kenny, but the world didn’t see me as that any more. I was seen as a pubescent pre- teen, expected to attend an all- girls school, to happily wear a blue skirt, and to crush on boys from the allboys school across the way. But that wasn’t me. Puberty was probably one of my lowest points. Every fibre of my being was telling me that these physical changes should not be happening. I grew jealous of my male friends. I pushed myself away from everyone who cared for me because I didn’t love myself, spent endless nights questioning when this feeling of despair and hopelessness would end — and avoiding mirrors for six years.
When I started my medical transition at 16, I was too young to be placed on testosterone so I took hormone blockers to prevent puberty taking hold, stopping my periods and breast growth. They weren’t going to give me the male physique I’d been hoping for, but it was a start! The light at the end of the tunnel started to burn a little brighter.
I began building a foundation of self- confidence, comforted that things were moving in a positive direction. I changed my name legally, while shaving my head was a cornerstone of my transition. I was taking control of my own happiness and took time out to learn what my core values were.
Eventually, it dawned on me, as if this intuitive thought had always been there, what my idea of a successful transition was. There were three things: a deep voice, a full beard and a masculine body. I know what you’re thinking, I can’t force the nature of genetics for the first two, but there was one that I could take full control of. My body.
So it began. My first day in the gym. I went with a family friend who had the sculpted muscles that I envisioned for myself. I did the research into my routine, had a nice gym kit ( all matching brands, of course) and gloves so I didn’t ruin my baby- smooth hands. I walked with my chest held high but my smile didn’t last long.
I was quickly immersed in the reality of masculinity and ego. I heard weights slamming on the ground, grunts and heavy breathing. I walked to the changing rooms feeling small, as if those weights had crushed my ego.
As I started to walk around the gym floor, I could feel eyes on me, shortly followed by this look of confusion — people couldn’t tell my gender. Guys would often approach me to ask how old I was, but to me it seemed like an excuse to get up close to search for clues about my gender. I would shrug it off but I’d be lying if I said it didn’t dishearten me. There was nothing I could do, so I just kept my head down.
This was the beginning of the issues I would continue to find in the gym.
It was the finer details I struggled with, as do most trans men. I felt so small, I was unable to pick up any more than a 10kg dumbbell without feeling as if my arm would snap, with half the gym judging me in the process.
It didn’t help that this was a bodybuilders’ gym, my binder ( which strapped my breast tissue flat) was so tight that I found it hard to breathe from time to time and I refused to shower or even use the changing room. Even after a few months when I started to see some results, I would still feel a wave of anxiety and frustration with every session. I ended up quitting because the experience became too painful. After that, I dabbled in fitness for a while — inconsistently.
My life changed in ways I could never have imagined on 14 May
2014 when I had a double mastectomy. Another cornerstone of my transition was complete and I was ready to take on the world.
I signed up at a regular gym far enough from home that nobody would recognise me. My mission was simple: to push as much weight as I possibly could regardless of how stupid I looked or sounded. I followed that mantra for just short of two years, going from 8st to 10st, all in hard- core muscle! I loved the body I had grafted for, and there were other benefits I noticed. Being physically fit improved my mental wellbeing, my confidence and outlook on life. Having a bad day? Take it out on the weights. Having a good day? Have a celebratory pump!
There is something special about what this has given me. I call fitness a milestone habit because it changes the other habits around you for the better. My body needed healthier food because I needed the nutrition. I had a better sleeping routine as my body regulated itself, and I perform better in my career since I have this new- found confidence. Dating became easier too, because my pumped physique balanced out my dysphoria.
I believe everyone should explore fitness, no matter what form or sport. Over the years, I’ve fallen in love with what the gym has blessed me with, so much so that I’ve created my own fitness programme as my way of giving something back.
The gym is more than just a place to pump weights. It has become my place of solitude, an experimental playground for my mental and physical health — and the birthplace of my confidence.