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Trans Boxing
Art Project or Boxing Club?

They used to play basketball growing up. But once they got home, they would sit on the couch and watch boxing matches on television with their “nonno”, grandpa. “I have warm memories of those afternoons in Italy”, recalls Hill Donnell (they/them), “I was very young, but I remember thinking that it was such a cool sport. And many more years later, when I showed up in that hot, sweaty gym basement in Bed-Stuy, New York, my mind went back to that.”
Hill began boxing in New Orleans in 2017. “The beauty of sport is that it has rules and parameters within which you can play, ensuring its fairness.” However, this contrasts sharply with a binary reality where public spaces, including boxing gyms, are strictly gendered. As an alternative, one of their friends offered some queer classes, which for Hill, “was a way to connect with other queer people and feel embodied and strong.” After moving to New York City, they sought a similar place to further develop their boxing skills. Soon, their lives became intertwined with a pioneering project: Trans Boxing.
“An art project in the form of a boxing club.” If you ask Nolan Hanson (he/them), the founder and head coach of Trans Boxing, for a definition, this is probably the first thing he would say. “To me, that framing is valuable because it opens up spaces for poetic and symbolic meaning to come through.”
When he started boxing in his early 20s, this conceptual delineation was not on his mind. He was looking for something to channel his energy and exercise while also finding a new community. “I first trained at the New Bed-Stuy Boxing Center. It fulfilled many of my needs and gave me goals and a purpose,” Hanson says. He began competing seriously shortly after, but a wrist injury forced him to take some time off from the ring. This period allowed him to look inward and reflect on his life; during this time, he decided to start coaching and medically transition. Eventually, these two choices converged in what later became Trans Boxing, a boxing club for transgender, non-binary, and gender non-conforming people. “The rigid gender segregation of the conventional model of boxing didn’t work for me, which is why I wanted to create a space where fighters could focus on the sport and feel comfortable,” says Nolan.
Nolan and Hill used to hang out at a bar near the gym as a social activity, reflecting on ways to improve the boxing classes, which quickly gained popularity. Many fighters would join them after workouts, and “without even realizing it, we created a community of trans, non-binary, and gender non-conforming people in New York City who loved sports and wanted to work on certain aspects of their physicality,” Hill explained. It was time to formalize both the boxing classes and the insights gained from the subsequent conversations. “Nolan and I did a lot of thinking about how to give a solid structure to the project, and that’s how Trans Boxing was conceived around the fall of 2017.”

The idea behind Trans Boxing was to create a space where sport and culture coexist symbiotically. Sport, in general, and boxing, in particular, provide a rich lens for examining identity formation and how people express who they are through gestures and actions. It visibly highlights “‘that clunky and clumsy process of identity formation.’ When you observe a fighter throwing punches effortlessly, it seems as though they’ve always been capable of doing so. However, that’s not the case, and the same applies to identity. Sometimes we perceive them as inherent traits that we simply enact in the world, but in reality, we learn and adopt how to be from somewhere” explains Nolan, “and I enjoy reflecting on these concepts through boxing.” This sport has historically served as a platform for social change, whether it involves racial and ethnic integration or the inclusion of women in the professional arena. “I hope that by being visible—not just in terms of media and representation, but also in a very physical and embodied manner—and placing ourselves in a social context, that it will alter the perceptions of those who come into the gym and see us working out,” concludes Nolan.
The project has come a long way from those early boxing classes at the Bed-Stuy Boxing Center. It now also holds regular training in Los Angeles, and has facilitated workshops in San Francisco, Portland, Seattle, Cincinnati, and New Orleans. Since 2021, Nolan has run the program at the Gleason’s Gym in Dumbo, Brooklyn, which is the oldest boxing gym in the U.S., where fighters such as Muhammed Ali, Jake La Motta and Myke Tyson used to train. Gleason’s was also the first gym to allow businessmen and women to train together. “The Trans Boxing is the most recent group I’ve brought in. They asked me if I was interested in running the program at Gleason’s and I was very excited. Everybody who comes up here is equal. It doesn’t matter where you are, who you are, or what you do, if you like boxing and want to take advantage of the facility, you’re welcome at Gleason’s” says Bruce Silverglade who has owned the gym since 1984.
The classes are now mixed and open to everyone, regardless of gender identity. “It’s been a weird, wild journey, but it’s been really cool to become part of this community and watch Nolan be respected by the other trainers while making a home in this historic gym,” says Sam Miller, the first fighter Nolan trained individually. “The last couple of years at Gleason’s have been overwhelmingly positive,” acknowledges Nolan. “The biggest threat is the myth that we are not real. It’s extremely dehumanizing, but I hope that by changing a specific context, such as a boxing gym, the effects will be wider eventually,” says Nolan. In a world where trans people are constantly targeted by unfair policies, the solitary sport is once again showing what the word “community” means – and hopefully leading the way for collective social change.

In Conversation:
Photography by:
Hill Carelli-Donnell (they/them) is the co-founder of Trans Boxing. Now they serve as the Participatory Budgeting Coordinator for the Borough of Brooklyn. They believe in the power of leveraging participation to create a more vibrant and equitable society. They have also worked and published research on youth voice initiatives within the NYC Department of Education and spent time organizing in the LGBTQ+ community.
Nolan Hanson (he/they) is a boxer and coach at Gleason’s Gym in Brooklyn, New York. Their fighters have a variety of goals: some are competitive amateur boxers, others participate for the sense of community and self-confidence boxing has given them. Nolan is the founder of Trans Boxing, an art project in the form of a boxing club that centers trans and gender-variant people.
{
"article":
{
"title" : "Trans Boxing: Art Project or Boxing Club?",
"author" : "Paola Arrigoni",
"category" : "essays",
"url" : "https://everythingispolitical.com/readings/trans-boxing-art-project-or-boxing-club",
"date" : "2025-03-21 17:35:00 -0400",
"img" : "https://everythingispolitical.com/uploads/002---Nolan-Hanson-and-the-boxer-Sab-at-the-Gleasons-Gym.jpg",
"excerpt" : "",
"content" : "They used to play basketball growing up. But once they got home, they would sit on the couch and watch boxing matches on television with their “nonno”, grandpa. “I have warm memories of those afternoons in Italy”, recalls Hill Donnell (they/them), “I was very young, but I remember thinking that it was such a cool sport. And many more years later, when I showed up in that hot, sweaty gym basement in Bed-Stuy, New York, my mind went back to that.”Hill began boxing in New Orleans in 2017. “The beauty of sport is that it has rules and parameters within which you can play, ensuring its fairness.” However, this contrasts sharply with a binary reality where public spaces, including boxing gyms, are strictly gendered. As an alternative, one of their friends offered some queer classes, which for Hill, “was a way to connect with other queer people and feel embodied and strong.” After moving to New York City, they sought a similar place to further develop their boxing skills. Soon, their lives became intertwined with a pioneering project: Trans Boxing. “An art project in the form of a boxing club.” If you ask Nolan Hanson (he/them), the founder and head coach of Trans Boxing, for a definition, this is probably the first thing he would say. “To me, that framing is valuable because it opens up spaces for poetic and symbolic meaning to come through.”When he started boxing in his early 20s, this conceptual delineation was not on his mind. He was looking for something to channel his energy and exercise while also finding a new community. “I first trained at the New Bed-Stuy Boxing Center. It fulfilled many of my needs and gave me goals and a purpose,” Hanson says. He began competing seriously shortly after, but a wrist injury forced him to take some time off from the ring. This period allowed him to look inward and reflect on his life; during this time, he decided to start coaching and medically transition. Eventually, these two choices converged in what later became Trans Boxing, a boxing club for transgender, non-binary, and gender non-conforming people. “The rigid gender segregation of the conventional model of boxing didn’t work for me, which is why I wanted to create a space where fighters could focus on the sport and feel comfortable,” says Nolan.Nolan and Hill used to hang out at a bar near the gym as a social activity, reflecting on ways to improve the boxing classes, which quickly gained popularity. Many fighters would join them after workouts, and “without even realizing it, we created a community of trans, non-binary, and gender non-conforming people in New York City who loved sports and wanted to work on certain aspects of their physicality,” Hill explained. It was time to formalize both the boxing classes and the insights gained from the subsequent conversations. “Nolan and I did a lot of thinking about how to give a solid structure to the project, and that’s how Trans Boxing was conceived around the fall of 2017.”The idea behind Trans Boxing was to create a space where sport and culture coexist symbiotically. Sport, in general, and boxing, in particular, provide a rich lens for examining identity formation and how people express who they are through gestures and actions. It visibly highlights “‘that clunky and clumsy process of identity formation.’ When you observe a fighter throwing punches effortlessly, it seems as though they’ve always been capable of doing so. However, that’s not the case, and the same applies to identity. Sometimes we perceive them as inherent traits that we simply enact in the world, but in reality, we learn and adopt how to be from somewhere” explains Nolan, “and I enjoy reflecting on these concepts through boxing.” This sport has historically served as a platform for social change, whether it involves racial and ethnic integration or the inclusion of women in the professional arena. “I hope that by being visible—not just in terms of media and representation, but also in a very physical and embodied manner—and placing ourselves in a social context, that it will alter the perceptions of those who come into the gym and see us working out,” concludes Nolan.The project has come a long way from those early boxing classes at the Bed-Stuy Boxing Center. It now also holds regular training in Los Angeles, and has facilitated workshops in San Francisco, Portland, Seattle, Cincinnati, and New Orleans. Since 2021, Nolan has run the program at the Gleason’s Gym in Dumbo, Brooklyn, which is the oldest boxing gym in the U.S., where fighters such as Muhammed Ali, Jake La Motta and Myke Tyson used to train. Gleason’s was also the first gym to allow businessmen and women to train together. “The Trans Boxing is the most recent group I’ve brought in. They asked me if I was interested in running the program at Gleason’s and I was very excited. Everybody who comes up here is equal. It doesn’t matter where you are, who you are, or what you do, if you like boxing and want to take advantage of the facility, you’re welcome at Gleason’s” says Bruce Silverglade who has owned the gym since 1984.The classes are now mixed and open to everyone, regardless of gender identity. “It’s been a weird, wild journey, but it’s been really cool to become part of this community and watch Nolan be respected by the other trainers while making a home in this historic gym,” says Sam Miller, the first fighter Nolan trained individually. “The last couple of years at Gleason’s have been overwhelmingly positive,” acknowledges Nolan. “The biggest threat is the myth that we are not real. It’s extremely dehumanizing, but I hope that by changing a specific context, such as a boxing gym, the effects will be wider eventually,” says Nolan. In a world where trans people are constantly targeted by unfair policies, the solitary sport is once again showing what the word “community” means – and hopefully leading the way for collective social change."
}
,
"relatedposts": [
{
"title" : "Black Liberation Views on Palestine",
"author" : "EIP Editors",
"category" : "essays",
"url" : "https://everythingispolitical.com/readings/black-liberation-on-palestine",
"date" : "2025-10-17 09:01:00 -0400",
"img" : "https://everythingispolitical.com/uploads/mandela-keffiyeh.jpg",
"excerpt" : "",
"content" : "In understanding global politics, it is important to look at Black liberation struggles as one important source of moral perspective. So, when looking at Palestine, we look to Black leaders to see how they perceived the Palestinian struggle in relation to theirs, from the 1960’s to today.Why must we understand where the injustice lies? Because, as Desmond Tutu famously said, “If you are neutral in situations of injustice, you have chosen the side of the oppressor.”{% for person in site.data.quotes-black-liberation-palestine %}{{ person.name }}{% for quote in person.quotes %}“{{ quote.text }}”{% if quote.source %}— {{ quote.source }}{% endif %}{% endfor %}{% endfor %}"
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{
"title" : "First Anniversary Celebration of EIP",
"author" : "EIP Editors",
"category" : "events",
"url" : "https://everythingispolitical.com/readings/1st-anniversary-of-eip",
"date" : "2025-10-14 18:01:00 -0400",
"img" : "https://everythingispolitical.com/uploads/WSA_EIP_Launch_Cover.jpg",
"excerpt" : "Celebrating One Year of Independent Publishing",
"content" : "Celebrating One Year of Independent PublishingJoin Everything is Political on November 21st for the launch of our End-of-Year Special Edition Magazine.This members-only evening will feature a benefit dinner, cocktails, and live performances in celebration of a year of independent media, critical voices, and collective resistance.The EventNovember 21, 2025, 7-11pmLower Manhattan, New YorkLaunching our End-of-Year Special Edition MagazineSpecial appearances and performancesFood & Drink includedTickets are extremely limited, reserve yours now!Become an annual print member: get x back issues of EIP, receive the End-of-Year Special Edition Magazine, and come to the Anniversary Celebration.$470Already a member? Sign in to get your special offer. Buy Ticket $150 Just $50 ! and get the End-of-Year Special Edition Magazine Buy ticket $150 and get the End-of-Year Special Edition Magazine "
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,
{
"title" : "Miu Miu Transforms the Apron From Trad Wife to Boss Lady: The sexiest thing in Paris was a work garment",
"author" : "Khaoula Ghanem",
"category" : "",
"url" : "https://everythingispolitical.com/readings/miu-miu-transforms-the-apron-from-trad-wife-to-boss-lady",
"date" : "2025-10-14 13:05:00 -0400",
"img" : "https://everythingispolitical.com/uploads/Cover_EIP_MiuMiu_Apron.jpg",
"excerpt" : "Miuccia Prada has a habit of taking the least “fashion” thing in the room and making it the argument. For Spring 2026 at Miu Miu, the argument is the apron; staged not as a coy retro flourish but as a total system. The show’s mise-en-scène read like a canteen or factory floor with melamine-like tables, rationalist severity, a whiff of cleaning fluid. In other words, a runway designed to force a conversation about labor before any sparkle could distract us.",
"content" : "Miuccia Prada has a habit of taking the least “fashion” thing in the room and making it the argument. For Spring 2026 at Miu Miu, the argument is the apron; staged not as a coy retro flourish but as a total system. The show’s mise-en-scène read like a canteen or factory floor with melamine-like tables, rationalist severity, a whiff of cleaning fluid. In other words, a runway designed to force a conversation about labor before any sparkle could distract us.From the opening look—German actress Sandra Hüller in a utilitarian deep-blue apron layered over a barn jacket and neat blue shirting—the thesis was loud: the “cover” becomes the thing itself. As silhouettes marched on, aprons multiplied and mutated—industrial drill cotton with front pockets, raw canvas, taffeta and cloqué silk, lace-edged versions that flirted with lingerie, even black leather and crystal-studded incarnations that reframed function as ornament. What the apron traditionally shields (clothes, bodies, “the good dress”) was inverted; the protection became the prized surface. Prada herself spelled it out: “The apron is my favorite piece of clothing… it symbolizes women, from factories through to serving to the home.”Miu Miu Spring 2026 Ready-to-Wear. SuppliedThis inversion matters historically. The apron’s earliest fashion-adjacent life was industrial. It served as a barrier against grease, heat, stain. It was a token of paid and unpaid care. Miu Miu tapped that lineage directly (canvas, work belts, D-ring hardware), then sliced it against domestic codes (florals, ruffles, crochet), and finally pushed into nightlife with bejeweled and leather bibs. The garment’s migration across materials made its social migrations visible. It is a kitchen apron, yes, but also one for labs, hospitals, and factories; the set and styling insisted on that plurality.What makes the apron such a loaded emblem is not just what it covers, but what it reveals about who has always been working. Before industrialization formalized labor into factory shifts and wages, women were already performing invisible labour, the kind that doesn’t exist on payrolls but sits at the foundation of every functioning society. They were cooking, cleaning, raising children, nursing the ill. These tasks were foundational to every economy and yet absent from every ledger. Even when women entered the industrial workforce, from textile plants to wartime assembly lines, their domestic responsibilities did not disappear, they doubled. In that context, the apron here is a quiet manifesto for the strength that goes unrecorded, unthanked, and yet keeps civilization running.The algorithmic rise of the “tradwife,” the influencer economy that packages domesticity as soft power, is the contemporary cultural shadow here. Miu Miu’s apron refuses that rehearsal. In fact, it’s intentionally awkward—oversized, undone, worn over bikinis or with sturdy shoes—so the viewer can’t flatten it into Pinterest-ready nostalgia. Critics noted the collection as a reclamation, a rebuttal to the flattening forces of the feed: the apron as a uniform for endurance rather than submission. The show notes framed it simply as “a consideration of the work of women,” a reminder that the invisible economies of effort—paid, unpaid, emotional—still structure daily life.If that sounds unusually explicit for a luxury runway, consider the designer. Prada trained as a mime at Milan’s Piccolo Teatro, earned a PhD in political science, joined the Italian Communist Party, and was active in the women’s rights movement in 1970s Milan. Those facts are not trivia; they are the grammar of her clothes. Decades of “ugly chic” were, essentially, a slow campaign against easy consumption and default beauty. In 2026, the apron becomes the newest dialect. An emblem drawn from leftist feminist history, recoded into a product that still has to sell. That tension—belief versus business—is the Miuccia paradox, and it’s precisely why these aprons read as statements, not trends.The runway narrative traced a journey from function to fetish. Early looks were squarely utilitarian—thick cottons, pocketed bibs—before migrating toward fragility and sparkle. Lace aprons laid transparently over swimmers; crystal-studded aprons slipped across cocktail territory; leather apron-dresses stiffened posture into armor. The sequencing proposed the same silhouette can encode labor, intimacy, and spectacle depending on fabrication. If most brands smuggle “workwear” in as set dressing, Miu Miu forced it onto the body as the central garment and an unmissable reminder that the feminine is often asked to be both shield and display at once.It’s instructive to read this collection against the house’s last mega-viral object: the micro-mini of Spring 2022, a pleated, raw-hem wafer that colonized timelines and magazine covers. That skirt’s thesis was exposure—hip bones and hemlines as post-lockdown spectacle, Y2K nostalgia framed as liberation-lite. The apron, ironically, covers. Where the micro-mini trafficked in the optics of freedom (and the speed of virality), the apron asks about the conditions that make freedom possible: who launders, who cooks, who cares? To move from “look at me” to “who is working here?” is a pivot from optics to ethics, without abandoning desire. (The aprons are, after all, deeply covetable.) In a platform economy that still rewards the shortest hemline with the biggest click-through, this is a sophisticated counter-program.Yet the designer is not romanticizing toil. There’s wit in the ruffles and perversity in the crystals; neither negate labor, they metabolize it. The most striking image is the apron treated as couture-adjacent. Traditionally, an apron protects the precious thing beneath; here, the apron is the precious thing. You could call that hypocrisy—luxurizing the uniform of workers. Or, strategy, insisting that the symbols of care and effort deserve visibility and investment.Of course, none of this exists in a vacuum. The “tradwife” script thrives because it is aesthetically legible and commercially scalable. It packages gender ideology as moodboard. Miu Miu counters with garments whose legibility flickers. The collection’s best looks ask viewers to reconcile tenderness with toughness, convenience with care, which is exactly the mental choreography demanded of women in every context from office to home to online.If you wanted a season-defining “It” item, you’ll still find it. The apron is poised to proliferate across fast-fashion and luxury alike. But the deeper success is structural: Miu Miu re-centered labor as an aesthetic category. That’s rarer than a viral skirt. It’s a reminder that clothes don’t merely decorate life, they describe and negotiate it. In making the apron the subject rather than the prop, Prada turned a garment of service into a platform for agency. It’s precisely the kind of cultural recursion you’d expect from a designer shaped by feminist politics, who never stopped treating fashion as an instrument of thought as much as style.The last image to hold onto is deceptively simple: a woman in an apron, neither fetishized nor infantilized, striding, hands free. Not a costume for nostalgia, not a meme for the feed, but a working uniform reframed, respected, and suddenly, undeniably beautiful. That is Miu Miu’s provocation for Spring 2026: the work behind the work, made visible at last."
}
]
}