Why "Everyone Is Welcome" Isn't the Same as Being Genuinely Accessible
"Everyone is welcome here."
It's on gym websites, PT profiles, and studio walls across the country. And for the most part, the trainers writing it mean it. They genuinely want to work with all kinds of people. They'd never turn someone away at the door.
But meaning it and actually doing it are very different things. And the gap between the two is exactly where marginalised clients get hurt.
What Does Performative Inclusion Actually Look Like in Fitness?
Performative inclusion is when the language of accessibility exists, but the practice doesn't back it up.
It looks like a gym that says "all bodies welcome" and has one size of bench, no modifications offered unless someone specifically asks, and a wall of before-and-after photos by the entrance. It looks like a PT whose website says "I work with everyone" and whose entire Instagram is lean, able-bodied clients hitting PBs. It looks like a trainer who would never say anything explicitly fatphobic, but reaches for cardio programming every time a plus-size client walks in without asking a single question about their actual goals.
The messaging says welcome. The environment says otherwise.
And the people it affects most are the ones who've already been burned by fitness spaces before. They're reading between the lines constantly; not because they're being paranoid, but because they've learned to. They know that "everyone is welcome" often means "as long as you're here to change your body."
What Genuine Accessibility Looks Like in Personal Training Practice
Real accessibility isn't about having a statement on your website. It's about the decisions you make before a client ever sets foot in a session.
It's your onboarding process; whether it asks about sensory needs, past experiences with fitness professionals, how a client wants to be coached, what their actual goals are. A client who's been told to lose weight by their GP and a client who's recovering from an eating disorder both need very different things from you, and you won't know which one you're working with unless you ask.
It's your programming defaults; whether you automatically build movement options into every session rather than waiting for someone to ask for a modification and risk feeling singled out. Offering accessible versions of exercises as standard, not as a fallback, changes how clients feel from the first session.
It's your language; not just avoiding explicitly harmful phrases, but actively not using food-as-punishment framing, not commenting on body changes uninvited, not treating weight as a measure of progress or success. The words you reach for without thinking reveal more about your actual values than the ones you've prepared for.
It's your marketing; because a client who has been failed by the fitness industry before will look at your content before they ever contact you. If they only see one kind of body, one kind of goal, one kind of success story, they already know this isn't for them. Representation in your content isn't a nice-to-have. For the people who need you most, it's the deciding factor.
If you're not sure what anti-diet marketing actually looks like in practice, the Anti-Diet PT Survival Guide is a free resource that maps it out; no fluff, no theory. Download it here →
Why Good Intentions Aren't Enough for Truly Inclusive Practice
The problem usually isn't bad intentions. It's a gap between values and systems.
A trainer can genuinely believe in body neutrality and still have an intake form that asks for goal weight. They can genuinely want to work with neurodivergent clients and still run chaotic, unpredictable sessions that feel overwhelming. They can genuinely reject diet culture and still have a client check-in process that tracks measurements by default.
Values don't automatically translate into inclusive practice. That translation requires looking critically at every touchpoint a client has with you; before, during, and after sessions, and asking honestly: does this work for the people I say I want to serve?
That's uncomfortable work. It often means recognising that some of your standard practices aren't actually neutral, they're just built for a particular kind of client, and you've never had to question them because that client has always been the default.
The Question Every Inclusive Trainer Needs to Ask Themselves
"Everyone is welcome" is a starting point, not an achievement. The question isn't whether you'd turn someone away. It's whether the way you work actually makes space for them.
Does your intake process ask about access needs? Does your programming build in options as standard? Does your content reflect the range of people you say you serve? Does your language hold up when you examine it closely?
If the answer to any of those is no, that's not a reason to abandon the values. It's just information about where the work is.
The trainers in the Not So Typical™ PT Network are doing that work. Not because they've already got everything right, but because they're committed to closing the gap between what they say and what they actually do.
