I positioned myself under the bar and flipped my hair back as part of my pre-lift ritual. I was the only girl in the weight room. I took a deep breath, braced myself, and proceeded to squat 225 pounds. I finished my set, re-racked the weights, and was interrupted by a shoulder tap, paired with the comment “You’re really strong for a girl.” A compliment I was accustomed to receiving, but never been satisfied with. Growing up I overcame the “lifting makes you bulky” stereotype intended to deter girls from weightlifting, which also had me at one point ignoring the dumbbells and beelining towards the cardio machines. After a few trips to the gym, I questioned why I sequestered myself from the weights room. Was it a personal choice, was it because I would be the only girl? Or was I following the constructed social parameters that traditionally hindered women's pursuit of physical fitness? I recognized it was not the idea of being the only girl that intimidated me, and led me to question the legitimacy of these stereotypes. I built confidence in the weight room, which bled into my personal life. I became the token “gym-rat” friend and encyclopedia for all things fitness. I used my own progress in the gym to undermine the stereotypes and represent health benefits lifting offers for women. Every time I show up in the weight room, my representation helps others feel supported. On campus, I established a network of female lifters called 'Girl Gains' that empowers women in the gym. Girl Gains evolved to become an official club, and the school's gym become integrated through gender. Women were gaining respect as men, women were in the room and the conversation. My influential presence continues to evolve and shift the climate of the weight room, while each change is subtle, the changes snowball into something greater. I now share the chin-up bar with men and give them words of encouragement while they attempt to hit a personal record. Men began to dap me up—a respectful handshake—between sets and told me, “You are a beast!” without adding “for a girl” afterward. The exclusion of “for a girl” shifts the narrative and validates both the presence and talent of women in the weight room. As the number of women in the room gradually increases, I no longer feel like the black sheep with a high ponytail. While my workouts continuously make me physically strong, my actions make me authoritatively stronger- allowing me to recognize my capacity as a leader. My passion for weightlifting led to my true calling—illuminating change. The eagerness to challenge the status quo in the gym morphs into inspiration to model empowerment in the legal field. Just as the presence of women entering the weight room is increasing, so is the number of women in law. Just as my strong demeanor captures attention in the weight room, it will in both the classroom and courtroom. Lifting grounds me with patience to work through issues. The tenacity to commit myself to the gym daily translates into a goal-oriented lifestyle motivated by bettering myself to both support and inspire others. The aspiration I feel to curate a space for women in the gym and encourage them to lift is the same spirit that ignites my desire to hold my own space as a woman in law and generate impactful modifications through my legal career. Through representing the reality of weight lifting for women, rather than a constructed narrative, remains my motivation in law school, to analyze what has been, and work toward what can be.