In early April, MaryBeth Monaco-Vavrik, a 24-year-old barre instructor and fitness influencer living in Washington, D.C., was sitting at the airport waiting for a flight to board when she had an idea for an Instagram Reel.
Ms. Monaco-Vavrik studied political science and communications at Davidson College. It became a habit, she said in a recent interview, to “always connect random things that don’t seem to relate.” In that moment, she juxtaposed two concepts that had been on her mind: Pilates and President Trump.
Grinning at the camera, and lip-syncing to a popular TikTok clip about the Broadway musical “Wicked,” Ms. Monaco-Vavrik made her case: “Does anyone want me to explain the connection between the popularization of Pilates & running instead of strength training… and the rise of extreme American authoritarianism?”
She elaborated in the caption, saying that conservatism was correlated to “smaller bodies,” and that curves were out and heroin chic was back in. Given our current political climate, she did not think it was surprising that the trend for “Pilates arms” among “Pilates girlies” was surging.
Ms. Monaco-Vavrik was new to content creation in the fitness space — she posted her first Instagram Reels, focused on training tips and exercise advice, in February — and this particular post was, she said, somewhat spur of the moment. “I made that Reel in five minutes sitting at the airport, just to put it out there,” she said. “I was just like, ‘Why not?’” She was not prepared for the reaction: two million views in two days, and nearly five million as of this writing.
Her idea spread widely — but not because everyone agreed.
Some Pilates enthusiasts called it nonsense. Others said they just wanted to be healthy and feminine.
“I was accused of being a misogynist,” Ms. Monaco-Vavrik said. “I was accused of hating women.”
The tenor of the comments ranged from skepticism to personal affront. Many were outraged by the suggestion that they might be supporters of Mr. Trump, while others seemed irritated by the notion that a form of exercise could be described in partisan terms.
“The backlash was a lot,” Ms. Monaco-Vavrik said. “I think it just deeply offended these wealthier white women who claim progressive alignment but just really couldn’t see what I was saying.”
More alarmingly, she said the backlash soon followed her offline. Other trainers at the studio where she taught barre admonished her over her remarks, and she said that the post even had consequences for her career, claiming that it was cited as a reason for her not getting a job in marketing with a fitness brand.
It was the full viral experience. “At first, it was great because it was like, ‘Yay, people are seeing my page,’” she said. “Then it was like, ‘Crap, now I’m unemployed.’”
Pilates was developed in Europe in the 1920s by Joseph Pilates, a German self-defense coach who originally called the fitness program “Contrology.” While Mr. Pilates wrote books on the subject, and instructed dancers in his program from his New York City studio after World War II, it was not until the 1990s, decades after his death, that the program entered the mainstream, finding widespread purchase alongside a surge in popularity for yoga.
More recently, Pilates has picked up some momentum: In 2024, the fitness platform ClassPass said Pilates was the most popular class type of the year. Pilates classes today are more accessible than ever, offered at dedicated studios, franchises like Club Pilates and gym chains like Equinox and Gold’s Gym.
Whether that popularity can be attributed to the current political climate, however, is slightly less clear.
“I have never heard that, nor have I ever seen any connection,” Amy Nelms, the owner of the New York City Pilates studio Flatiron Pilates, said, her eyes widening in disbelief as the idea was laid out to her. “I can’t imagine Donald Trump doing Pilates.”
For Ms. Monaco-Vavrik, the problem is not the exercise itself but the way it has been promoted and marketed. “Pilates is great for your core strength, and for people who are suffering from connection tissue weakness, etc.,” she said. “But how do we separate that from the fact that its marketing is extremely exclusionary? It’s extremely whitewashed. It’s based on wealth. It’s based on thinness.”
Still, she conceded that the nuances of her point might have been lost in what seemed like an accusation against Pilates enthusiasts.
“It’s not about your personal political affiliation,” she said. “No one goes to Pilates thinking, ‘I’m going to be a fascist today.’”
She said the way it was marketed was separate from the exercise itself. “That maybe didn’t come across very well,” she added, referring to the message in her post.
Much of this “marketing” is in fact an amorphous mass of social media content, produced by Pilates influencers who self-identify as “Pilates girlies” or “Pilates princesses.” On TikTok, content creators offer advice on how to achieve “Pilates arms” — lean, sinewy biceps that do not appear overtly muscular — or, more broadly, a “Pilates body,” which typically just means thin.
Ms. Monaco-Vavrik worried that these were coded ways to tell women they needed to make themselves small and take up less space — that rather than building strength by lifting weights, women were being “pushed toward just taking a Pilates class and getting a smoothie afterward,” she said. “What does it say about our culture that these are the things being pushed?”
Anita Chahaun, a Pilates fan in Toronto who has her certification in the program, said that she found Ms. Monaco-Vavrik’s argument “a bit tenuous,” but agreed that “there is something to unpack about the aesthetics and accessibility of Pilates, especially in its current cultural moment.”
From her perspective as a woman of color, Ms. Chahuan said, “Pilates does still feel like a predominantly white and wealthier space,” with clientele and instructors who are “overwhelmingly white, often thin and usually conforming to a very specific wellness aesthetic.”
“The broader wellness industry’s obsession with control, thinness and optimization can overlap uncomfortably with exclusionary or even fascist frameworks,” she added. “So, while I don’t think Pilates is inherently authoritarian, it’s definitely been packaged in ways that align with those values.”
For some people who saw Ms. Monaco-Vavrik’s video, the very idea of connecting politics and Pilates was objectionable, even if there was reason to believe otherwise.
“I think for a long time, there was a tendency to think that fitness isn’t political, it’s just working out,” said Natalia Mehlman Petrzela, a professor of history at the New School and the author of the book “Fit Nation: The Gains and Pains of America’s Exercise Obsession.” “But fitness is always tied up with power dynamics and society, and it’s often much more than just the gym.”
Ms. Petrzela said there was something to the point Ms. Monaco-Vavrik had raised. “I do think that when you look at the dominant aesthetics and messaging around Pilates princesses or Pilates girlies, it definitely upholds very traditional aesthetics of female beauty,” she said.
But she was willing to concede the idea only up to a point. “I appreciate that kind of analysis, but it kind of falls apart when you look deeply at it,” she said. “Perhaps most foundationally because Pilates does get you very, very strong. Pilates is a really intense workout.”
“Make sure you include that I said Pilates is hard,” Ms. Petrzela added with a laugh. “They’ll come for me otherwise.”
Though it has been months since her post first gained attention, Ms. Monaco-Vavrik’s Reel continues to attract views and stoke debate, even if she is no longer directly engaging with it.
“I haven’t looked at the comments in a while because they make me so angry,” she said. She made a follow-up video elaborating on the idea, hoping to cut down on some of the confusion, but, she said, “a lot of people just kind of misconstrue what I said.”
Of course, having whipped up the initial Reel in a few minutes, Ms. Monaco-Vavrik will be the first to admit that her argument may not be ironclad. Still, her instincts tell her that she had the right idea.
“It’s like, again, I can’t exactly prove it,” she said. “I can’t prove it but like, no, I know it’s there. I know that the orderliness, the gracefulness, the quietness, the minimalism — it’s all just, like, connected.”
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