I want to share about something that happened at the gym a while back. It wasn’t super dramatic but recently I was reminded of it as I was reflecting on how easily assumptions get placed on men, even when they show up in their grounded masculine.
Covering a Session
As you know, my main occupation is a coach - executive coach, leadership coach, life coach. I’m also trained as a Level 1 CrossFit Coach (and co-own a small box in Phnom Penh), but it’s definitely a hobby more than a profession.
One time, I was asked to shadow a PT session to give my feedback on a personal trainer and the client - for the trainer's ongoing professional development. Although my experience in fitness coaching is limited, the thousands of hours working with people through personal coaching and mentoring other coaches allows me to see areas for growth from a coaching competency standpoint. She was a young trainer, but experienced and accomplished technically for her age.
Having observed the session, I shared that the trainer was, as expected, technically excellent but was perhaps being a bit too soft with the client. Not challenging her enough. Trusting the client’s “I can’t” rather than her actual capacity. Not directing the session enough when the client was dawdling. I encouraged the personal trainer to believe in the client's capacity and to not be afraid of being a bit more directive - all in service of the client.
Some time later, she asked me to cover a session with the same client. I don’t normally take PT sessions outside of my own gym, but I agreed as a favour. I did say clearly that if I covered the session, my style would be more challenging. Not forceful, not careless, but more demanding because I know it helps people. Both the trainer and client agreed.
How the Session Went
During the session with this client, I did exactly what I said I would do. I challenged her, encouraged her and reassured her in the moments she wavered, with humour and firmness, as is my coaching style.
She worked harder than she normally does. She surprised herself with how much she could do. She met more of her own potential. Afterwards she even asked if she could do more sessions with me, which I declined because PT isn’t where I focus my work. I did share that some leadership coaching clients work with me holistically - integrating physical training, embodiment, and inner work - but I sensed she wasn’t an ideal fit for that. We left it there.
The Aftershock
Months later, the trainer messaged me saying she had concerns about the session. I wasn’t expecting it, but agreed to talk things through.
In our conversation, she said the client might have felt unsafe. That my approach, as a man, was too pushy or triggering. She emphasised how important creating “safe spaces for women” was to her, and implied that a male coach challenging a female client could feel like a violation of that.
Anyone who knows me would probably be surprised by that feedback. “Pushy” is not how people experience my coaching.
What struck me wasn’t that she disagreed with my style. It was that her reaction didn’t seem to reflect what had actually happened. The client herself had been fine - even excited to continue. The trainer’s concern seemed to come from an assumption about men. A story that says a man’s firmness must be aggression. That a man challenging a woman is automatically controlling or dominating.
On reflection, I realised that the issue might not have been my behaviour at all. It might simply have been my masculinity. My gender.
As I’ve been exploring and reclaiming my own masculinity - after years of distancing myself from it because of internalised misandry - I’ve become much more sensitive to how quickly these assumptions can surface.
Where I See This Elsewhere
I notice similar dynamics in other places.
With friends who are parents, I often see contrasting instincts. Mothers leaning toward softness and acceptance. Fathers leaning toward structure and challenge. Neither is wrong. Children need both. We all need both.
At Cambodia Coaching Institute, we talk about the importance of both Acceptance of What Is and Evoking Transformation, and how they work together. But in some circles I notice challenge and direction get coded as problematic or unsafe, when in reality they can be deeply supportive and developmental.
The same thing appears in leadership programmes. When a participant struggles, some women leaders rush to reassure them they don’t need to continue the activity. It comes from care, but it can unintentionally hold people small. It reinforces a belief that they cannot handle discomfort, when often they absolutely can - they just need support, not rescue. Where men invite pushing through some discomfort, sometimes I notice a reactionary energy from women, as though the men are being too pushy.
There’s a difference between care and mollycoddling. A difference between support and rescuing someone from their own growth edge.
What I Am Learning About Masculinity
As I reconnect with my own masculinity, I’m learning that healthy challenge feels very different to dominance, and this is one of the gifts of the masculine.
Boundaries.
Structure.
Challenge.
Direction.
These masculine energies are not inherently unsafe.
What I see is that old wounds, past harms, and unexamined narratives can make people interpret these qualities as threatening even when they come from a grounded and caring place. Personal trauma and systemic injustice play a part, and that is real. But that doesn’t mean every expression of masculine firmness should be read through that past.
Integrating the Masculine and Feminine
When I think back to that gym session incident, the issue wasn’t really about weights, reps or even coaching style. It was about how we see each other. How easily care can be mistaken for dominance. How quickly firmness gets collapsed into harm. How often stories about men appear before the man himself does. How many assumptions are made in these gaps.
People grow through both softness and challenge. I see it every day - in coaching sessions, leadership teams, relationships, and yes, even on gym floors.
So the question I am left with is this:
How do we start bridging the gap so that both can be honoured?
How do we create environments that trust nurturing and challenge equally?
How do we learn to read intention beneath action instead of defaulting to the assumptions we already carry?
Because somewhere in that balance - between softness and firmness - is where real growth happens. And the true partnership between the masculine and feminine can help to build a more inclusive, progressive and nurturing society.