When I think back on past workouts, lifting weights is something that always leaves me feeling completely wiped out—and stronger than anything else. Since I haven’t picked up a weight and practiced my Elvis snarl in awhile, I’m thrilled to introduce Emily Newhook, an amateur powerlifter and high school friend, who’s sharing her experience with powerlifting and how it has changed the way she thinks about her body.
My last deadlift session. This is a set of 5 reps at 200 pounds.
For personal and professional reasons, the fall before I picked up my first barbell had been pretty rough. It was cold. I was sad. My best friend encouraged me to join her powerlifting class at her gym, which specializes in off-the-beaten-path fitness like parkour and aerial silks. I was eager for a change of pace, but apprehensive, too: aside from the occasional set of bicep curls, I was generally disinclined to go anywhere near a weight room, much less an actual barbell. I thought squatting was something you did on camping trips, and that benching was just the official “Jersey Shore” past time.
My first classes were largely an extended exploration of all the things I didn’t know about picking up heavy things and putting them down (a lot). We trained four major lifts: squat, overhead press, bench and deadlift. I learned how to sit back, not down, during a squat; the way to switch my grip as my deadlift weight increased; how to time my breath during a bench set. To improve our performance on those lifts, we also incorporated accessory exercises: we practiced thrusting our hips – the same movement you need during squats – to propel kettlebell swings and strengthened our grip – important for heavy deadlifts – by hauling dumbbells from one end of the gym to the other. We flipped monster truck tires, and sprinted in the parking lot. I alternated between feeling stronger than ever and downright geriatric.
As my lifts increased, I realized that my idea of fitness had been pretty limited. I wasn’t worried about getting “bulky,” but I did initially question whether there was a place for me in the powerlifting community. Unlike running or other cardio I’d favored in the past, I couldn’t just jump in without guidance. I also didn’t look like the bodybuilders or Olympians that have come to represent lifting in popular culture – most of whom were men. The fact that another girl was the first one who encouraged me to get started actually made a huge difference.
The entire gym community approached fitness in a way that contradicted everything I had previously assumed. The prevailing mantra was “eat more, lift more” – and all of us, girls included, were primarily looking to lift more. Women in my class weren’t afraid to put on muscle mass. They weren’t afraid to eat. We only referenced the scale to determine what percentage of our body weights we could lift or press in any given exercise. I realized I’d spent my whole life having conversations of the “no, you’re skinny,” ilk, which actually just do a lot to degrade your body image over time. I was sick of evaluating my friends and myself in terms of weight.
Someone who’s not me, performing a squat lift. I’m still a relative amateur when it comes to lifting, but if you’re not going below parallel, you’re doing it wrong.
The technical nature of lifting also helped me think about my body differently. When you break it down, the fundamental movements are really just variations of pushing and pulling: easy enough with a 15-pound trainer bar, but immensely challenging once you add a few plates. You also have to account for the way you’re proportioned. My long legs and arms, for instance, make it easier for me to generate power during a deadlift, but put me at a slight disadvantage when squatting or benching. Proportions aside, though, any one of these exercises requires a fine-tuned cocktail of strength, flexibility and technique that changes depending on the movement and the person. The slow process of internalizing these variables as intuitive muscle memory was deeply personal – and illuminating: I was becoming more concerned with what my body could do in the present rather than how it should look at some nebulous point in the future.
So I get frustrated when women tell me they don’t want to lift heavy because they’re worried about bulking up. For one, women typically have to follow careful diets and training regimens – ones you can’t replicate by accident – to become visibly muscular. But more importantly, their anxiety says something terrible about the way we’ve been taught to assess our bodies. Everyone, regardless of gender, learns that attractiveness is contingent upon how well we convey specific masculine or feminine traits – and that attractiveness belies our value as human beings.
Fitspiration: actually just a huge piece of threatening, body-shaming crapola.
Women who are anxious that lifting will undermine their femininity aren’t superficial; they’re responding to a fear that’s been embedded, over and over again, by the types of bodies presented to us as “correct” and beautiful. By magazine articles that treat our bodies like to-do lists instead of evolving, complex extensions of our person. By fitspiration memes that tell us how “strong is the new skinny,” but feed us sexualized images of women that have been photoshopped to high-hell. Strength and fitness, as it turns out, look wildly different from person to person.
So how do we show people what it looks like to value their bodies, in practice, not just theory? Though I feel strongly that everyone should try heavy lifting – there’s a whole host of health benefits I can’t begin to cover here – I realize that you can’t standardize this type of thing. So that’s my action item for Jaybird readers: find an activity that forces you to consider a different conversation about your body. The methods we use to appraise ourselves didn’t evolve overnight, and we can’t expect to readjust them in such a short time frame, either – but a new lens is a great start.
Emily Newhook is the community outreach coordinator for the MHA degree program from The George Washington University, MHA@GW. Outside of work, she enjoys writing, horror movies and powerlifting. Follow Emily on Twitter @EmilyNewhook and Google+.
Finding Your Place in the Weight Room
If you’re on the fence about trying powerlifting, the biggest hurdle is often just walking through the door. Gyms can feel like foreign territory, especially the free weight section. I remember hovering near the squat racks, pretending to check my phone while working up the nerve to ask for a spot. What helped most was having a friend who already knew the lay of the land. But even if you’re going it alone, there are ways to ease in. Many gyms offer an introductory session or a “women’s lifting” hour, and private coaches are more accessible than ever. Don’t be afraid to ask questions—everyone starts somewhere, and most lifters are more focused on their own sets than judging yours.
Once you’re in, prioritize learning the movements with light weight or even just a PVC pipe. Form is everything; it prevents injury and builds the foundation for heavier lifts later. Record yourself from the side to check depth on squats, back position on deadlifts, and bar path on bench. If you’re not sure what to look for, compare your video to trusted online tutorials or ask a coach. The learning curve can feel steep, but each session leaves you a little more competent and a lot more confident.
- Book a trial session with a powerlifting or strength coach.
- Start with just the bar to drill technique before adding plates.
- Use video feedback or a training partner to correct form early.
- Don’t skip accessory work—it builds the stabilizer muscles that keep you safe.
Shifting Focus: Performance Over Appearance
One of the most liberating shifts in powerlifting is learning to evaluate your body by what it can do rather than how it looks. Instead of stepping on a scale, you celebrate a new deadlift PR or an extra rep on bench. Strength goals are concrete, measurable, and entirely within your control—unlike the elusive quest for a “perfect” body. That’s not to say aesthetic changes don’t happen; they do, but they become a side effect, not the main event. This mindset shift aligns beautifully with the Love Your Body Resolution philosophy, which encourages ditching the scale and focusing on health-promoting behaviors.
Tracking your lifts in a simple notebook or app can be surprisingly motivating. Watching the numbers climb week after week gives tangible proof of progress, even on days when the mirror doesn’t seem to change. And because lifting is so skill-based, there’s always something to refine: a more explosive hip drive, a tighter brace, a smoother lockout. That constant pursuit of technical mastery keeps the mind engaged and the body challenged—far more rewarding than chasing a number on a scale.
Fueling and Recovery for Strength
The “eat more, lift more” mantra I encountered was a revelation, but it doesn’t mean gorging on junk. To recover and grow stronger, your body needs adequate protein, carbohydrates, and healthy fats—plus plenty of water. Many women undereat for years, which not only stalls strength gains but also disrupts hormones and bone health. If you’re serious about lifting, consider working with a sports dietitian or at least start by adding a protein-rich snack after training. And remember that nutrition is highly individual; what works for one lifter may not work for another. Our A Different Type of Cleanse article explores a more balanced approach to eating that rejects extreme detoxes and instead focuses on nourishing your body for performance.
Recovery is where the real magic happens. Sleep is non-negotiable—aim for 7–9 hours a night. During deep sleep, your body releases growth hormone and repairs the micro-tears from lifting. If you struggle with sleep, check out our tips in 8 Hours, Or Else!. Active recovery, like walking or gentle yoga, can also help ease soreness without compromising your next training session. And don’t underestimate the power of rest days; they’re not lazy, they’re strategic.