When you think of Pride, you might imagine a gathering in the streets, vibrant flags waving in the summer breeze, and bodies baking in the sun. But Pride has always been about resistance, a fundamental part of queer liberation; it’s how we’ve survived hardship and learned to thrive even under challenging circumstances.

In 2025, LGBTQ+ people in sports are facing an endless onslaught of opinions around what kind of bodies can compete in gendered sports. But athletes are deeply familiar with resistance, too, and they’re still finding ways to blaze trails and express their pride.

The 2024 Paris Olympics included nearly 200 openly out LGBTQ+ athletes, the most in history, showing that despite obstacles, queer and trans people are showing up—for themselves, the queer community, and the next generation of LGBTQ+ athletes empowered by this collective resistance.

While resistance may not be simple to define, the actions of LGBTQ+ professionals in the sport and fitness community speak for themselves. Resistance has no one method or presentation and is a cornerstone of how Pride was born in the first place. Here are a few examples of the kind of resistance that can inspire pride, not just in your heart but also in the movement of your body and the power of your community.

In the world of professional sports, visibility can be a form of queer resistance. When Layshia Clarendon (who uses they/them, she/her, and he/him pronouns) officially came out as the first nonbinary WNBA player in 2020 via an Instagram post, they knew they didn’t want to be reduced to a mere subject of political discourse—they wanted to be seen as themself.

Clarendon has long understood the stakes of coming out. Her older sister was met with criticism and rejection by their parents when coming out years earlier. Despite this, he bravely chose to come out to his parents, the WNBA, and the world.

For Clarendon, coming out was deeply intertwined with their love of their sport. As they told GLAAD in an episode of Changemakers, "I don’t think I could separate my identity as an athlete and as an activist. Basketball is woven into the fabric of who I am. Being mission-driven and caring is a part of who I am, so to take those things apart is not possible."

After a year of being publicly out as nonbinary, and dealing with the hateful online criticism that followed, Clarendon bravely posted about their top surgery anyway. The caption of their Instagram announcement says it all: "I want Trans people to know and see that we’ve always existed & no one can erase us! I want people to remember that my freedom is your freedom because none of us are free until we are all free!"

Queer resistance isn’t solely for the benefit of LGBTQ+ people; it lifts everyone up. In 2019, the U.S. women’s national soccer team was fed up with the gendered pay disparity in professional soccer, with the U.S. men’s national team making many times more in signing bonuses and prize money. After USWNT co-captain and out-lesbian Megan Rapinoe led the team to victory in the 2019 FIFA Women’s World Cup, the next move was clear: filing a lawsuit to achieve pay equity for her team.

The process was not easy. A judge dismissed the initial lawsuit in 2020. But when Rapinoe and four other players refiled in 2022, the results changed the landscape of gender equity in professional sports forever. The terms of the $24 million settlement ensured the women’s and men’s teams would be paid equally now, and in the future. Considering that the very first EEOC complaint made by Rapinoe and her fellow players dated all the way back to 2016, we can see that resistance is not just a flash in the pan or a demonstration of brute strength; holding the door open for progress is often a sustained effort.

Another lesson in resistance from Rapinoe and crew is that solidarity is fundamental to speaking out. It’s no wonder that members of a team intuitively know that to be true. Being involved in sports trains people to work together, stand up tall, and account for each other’s vulnerabilities. These same habits almost certainly helped the team find as much success in court as they did on the soccer pitch.

Max Adler is the founder and head coach of the only trans-owned boxing gym in NYC, aptly called OutBox. Originally a sold-out 20-person class designed to be a comfortable environment for members of the LGBTQ+ community, it has become a full-blown fitness space dedicated to inclusion as a fundamental value. At the start of Adler’s medical transition, he recognized that many queer and trans people were met with judgmental stares at the gym, so he sought to create a class he would be comfortable attending himself. Located in Williamsburg, Adler and his gym have been praised by the likes of Rolling Stone and featured on The Kelly Clarkson Show.

For many people, the gym can be a vulnerable space where you experience how your body feels and moves in a semi-public environment. When you look around and don’t see people who can empathize with your experiences, it can be that much more difficult to feel comfortable in your own skin. Fitness can be liberating, especially for LGBTQ+ people who may not always have felt included or joy around physicality. But to foster that healing, fitness spaces should strive to be environments where no one has to apologize for who they are. When they meet that goal, the results can be transformative.

“The most rewarding part has been seeing people connect, feel normal and not have to explain themselves,” Adler told CNBC in 2023. “When you’re trans or queer, I don’t think people realize that you’re doing that all the time.”

Spaces like OutBox shouldn’t just be exceptional case studies in inclusion; they should set the tone for a future where people of every body type, ability level, and lived experience can access fitness.

It is also practiced by allies who know that diversity and inclusion help everyone feel safer and more connected. This Pride, and year round, it’s especially important that we work together to uplift the type of fitness communities that make us proud to love, proud to exist, and proud to move as one.