Last week, “Secretary of War” Pete Hegseth called America’s troops fat. Every “warrior,” he said, will now be required to train every duty day and pass fitness tests twice a year. “Frankly, it’s tiring to look out at combat formations … and see fat troops. Likewise it’s completely unacceptable to see fat generals and admirals in the halls of the Pentagon.”
Equating physical appearance with battle-ready fortitude has become a consistent talking point for Hegseth and other Republicans in his orbit. In August, Hegseth and US health secretary Robert F. Kennedy Jr. launched the “Pete and Bobby Challenge” across their social media feeds, completing a workout of 100 pushups and 50 pull-ups, with the goal of finishing in under five minutes. (Within hours of its publication, left-wing accounts began making fun of Kennedy’s pull-up form and questioning his decision to wear denim while exercising.)
After the young male vote flipped toward Trump by almost 30 points in the last election, the fight for their attention has taken center stage in the US political culture war. Both parties are vying for the male half of the most fitness-obsessed generation in recent memory.
Though there is nothing inherently right-wing about lifting weights, fitness influencers have been at the forefront of the rightward shift of young men in recent years; exercise content represents a key bloc of the so-called manosphere. However, a small but rapidly growing subset of progressive gym bros are moving into the online fitness space, and influential figures on the left are taking notice.
Colin Davis, a 24-year-old from North Carolina, is one of those men. In a series of videos shared to TikTok and Instagram, Davis flexes under dim lighting that accentuates his massive biceps and showcases dumbbell bench presses to heavy metal music. He also posts about his leftist beliefs.
“You don’t need a side hustle, you need a union,” Davis captions one video that has almost 60,000 likes. In a TikTok post that has been liked over 187,000 times, he discusses the legacy of Martin Luther King Jr. and the value of political protest, while leaning on a squat rack
Davis first went viral in April when he published a video of himself seated in a lawn chair in the middle of the woods, ridiculing the “warrior” culture that has grown to dominate much of the male-oriented fitness space. “You are not a warrior, you are not a protector, you are not defending your homeland. You are a guy that lifts weights a couple times a week and maybe goes for a run,” he says, staring into the camera deadpan.
Though the aesthetic similarities can be undeniable, Davis’ content is a stark departure from the deluge of “trad” fitness that inundates many young men’s Instagram and TikTok feeds. Those often include compilation videos of men flexing their muscles, cut between clips that ridicule partying women, body-positivity influencers, and gay men. “Embrace Masculinity,” one such video emblazons across the center of the screen.
