Our philosophy. mission.
We are here to be rebellious within an industry that taught us from an early age that our worth, our wellness and our strength are measured by how we look. It taught us that some people possess willpower and some do not. It taught us that some bodies are good and some are not.
Along with all that, we were taught that to be successful, we must overcome ourselves. We must be excellent. We must excel. We must conquer our bodies. We must try harder. Burn, baby burn. Feel the burn.
And, when it came to understanding how our bodies worked or what our bodies wanted or needed, we absorbed the idea that this was to be left to the authorities. We were taught to distance ourselves from really listening to or trusting our bodies. We learned to “check out” versus “check in”.
We are here to provide another way. We are here to be invested and engaged in our physicality, on our terms.
We embrace kindness and curiosity about bodies – our own bodies and the bodies of others. We are here for bodily autonomy.
Finally, we declare a state of enough-ism. You are enough. A 15-minute workout is enough. You, fellow human, are doing more than enough.
Imagine all the room leftover in your brain and your heart and your life when you believe these things to be true. Just imagine.
Welcome. We are so glad you are here.
I often think back to little me, the kid nicknamed “The Muck Monster” for her love affair with mud and who also only agreed to boring ballet class when she was getting to act out Peter and the Wolf.
I think a lot about what I would have wanted her to know – about her body, about her autonomy, her personhood, about her right to take up space, and about the essential necessity of learning to say no.
I had to learn the hard way, as so many of us have had to do. Becoming a mother before I was entirely ready was certainly one of those hard ways. Finding a new identity after a life as a professional ballet dancer. Getting sober. Going through two divorces. Single parenting three daughters. Healing from PTSD. Healing from chronic pain.
Yet, since 2012, I’ve had this strangely persistent and determined friend that quite literally forced me to show up for myself everyday in the thick of all that stuff. This friend boomeranged me back into my body and drove me to stay curious about the power of movement in its ability to help me live a life that “little me” needs too.
This persistent and determined friend is MommaStrong. It has served me as I hope it serves you: To remind us that strength – on our terms – matters.
Also, bowl cuts for life.