Shaun

Shaun Patrick Tubbs is a fitness instructor, actor, director, and founder of black by brand, an apparel company seeking to inspire and bring joy to communities of color. We chatted with Shaun about representation and tokenization within the fitness industry, expanding access to wellness, and digital authenticity. In 2020, Shaun was quoted in the New York Times article Yoga, SoulCycle and Peloton Face Truths About How Black Lives Matter. 

You’ve been a fitness instructor for about fifteen years. How did you find your way into the fitness sphere, and what has it been like for you? 

I come from a family and community where health was not a priority. We generally wanted to “stay healthy,” but we didn’t know how to, or what that looked like. So while growing up, I had to pursue it for myself. So I got the fitness DVDs, I even had VHS tapes at one point in time – I had it all. And I tried to idolize, but there were so few instructors that represented me. If you grew up during my time, it was Billy Blanks – that’s the only guy you know, there’s just no one else. I knew that I needed more; I wanted to see more faces like mine, because [Billy] let me know I could be fit. But who else was there? 

I wanted to make sure we could see that being healthy is an attainable goal. And you don’t have to start with a physically perfect form of body – I’m not physically perfect by any stretch, and I don’t try to be. I also believe that health is not just physical, but mental too. That’s the greatest health, if you start from the inside and go from there. 

Both the fitness industry and the tech sphere have historically been dominated by white voices. As someone who works in digital fitness, how have you navigated that? 

The hardest part for me has been that in fitness, including studio spaces and brick and mortar, I’m usually the only one representing anyone of color. When I went to digital and understood that there was this massive audience, I hoped that there would be a greater sense of representation – but oftentimes it’s just me. And I’ve found that the battle is not just in greater representation; it’s how accessible it is and how we’re portrayed. 

There are stereotypes that often go with you when you’re in the fitness space. If you see me you might think oh, there’s that Black guy there; get ready for his next hip hop ride or workout. It’s hard, because I love hip hop! But it becomes almost an expectation, people pigeonhole you that way. I have to be prepared for every Juneteenth or Black History Month, every Martin Luther King Jr. Day. There’s nothing wrong with representing those days or months or celebrations. But when I’m only featured during those times, I’m cut off from the communities I want to reach.

You’ve spoken about expanding access to health and wellness to communities for whom the fitness industry is often inaccessible and exclusive. What are the ways in which you do that? 

When I was at Myx, I created an initiative with a center in Harlem, New York called the Hope Center. The Hope Center gives free mental health services to residents of Harlem, primarily the Black and Latinx communities who live there. I said [to Myx], “I want to give back; I don’t need anything, you don’t have to give me a dime or pay me extra.” I did a couple of virtual meditations on Facebook, and some in-person workouts as well. I also got Myx to donate a bike to the Hope Center, so they could raffle it off as a fundraiser. By doing that and having a visible representation of health, it created interest in both physical and mental health – making it a more practical idea for the community I live in. I wanted to bring it right to my doorstep. 

During COVID – I don’t know why we talk about it like it’s over – there’s still the necessity to reach people who are less comfortable being out. To talk about the connection between fitness and technology, it’s huge – it’s helped so many people. I need technology to help me reach people and meet [them] where they are. If you’re not comfortable stepping out your door right now or you’ve never been in the gym, if there’s too many roadblocks like cost or it feels inauthentic, those are barriers for me to reach you. I work to cut down as many of the barriers as possible; I don’t care what kind of room you’re in, or tell you to buy fancy equipment. I just say “let’s sweat.” 

It’s still very hard to be on a platform and understand that I carry a lot of weight being who I am, what I represent for my community. But I try to remind them I’m not the only one. And that even though you’ll never find enough representation, that doesn’t mean you should stop trying. I get messages all the time from clients who are very thankful that I’m there, because they feel seen. My job is to keep that conversation going. 

As a fitness instructor with a sizable social media following, do you struggle to balance a sense of digital authenticity with branded content? 

It’s hard because I recognize that I work for companies who ask me – if not contractually obligate me – to post on social media. What’s always been important to me is controlling the voice. Social media can be so destructive, because [my audience] will see me with a product, and assume “Oh, that’s what I need to do.” I’m very cautious of that dynamic. It’s not that I don’t believe in certain products, but if I haven’t used them then I won’t recommend or show them – it’s not authentic to me. So I do have that power. 

There are often times when I’m given a script, and companies will tell me to do a post based on that. I’m like, whoa, I didn’t write that! My big point is to ask questions like, does this represent my values? If you’re not sure, investigate your values. You don’t have to always be right. No one’s going to be perfect, but you should have a voice. And if you don’t, maybe it’s not the

company for you. If I don’t have a voice in where I work, then it’s not for me – I don’t care what the check is like. 

Your Instagram account serves as a way for clients to connect and follow along with you. At the same time, your posts touch upon critical social movements and discrimination within the fitness industry. Do you receive pushback from followers who’d prefer you to stay apolitical? 

It’s painful in some ways. When I post about a Black woman that’s been harassed or killed, or the marginalization of the AAPI community, and I put that out there, it can be manipulated on social media; I don’t have a full voice in it. As someone who has a lot of eyes on what I do and post, I make sure to ask questions, instead of just making statements. Out of curiosity, I keep track of how my followers go up and down right around the posts when I’m sharing how I feel about police violence, for example. If someone unfollows me because of my posts, my hope is to strengthen those who stay. Why am I using my platform to talk about these things? If you follow me, you get me. If it doesn’t work for you, if you want to see me only as one thing, go follow my company. 

I have a lot of white clients who feel like we have a connection, and they perceive what I’m saying as a direct threat towards them. I’m sure a lot of that comes from guilt. I love social media, but the fact of the matter is that while [social media] can start change, it can’t be where it only happens. People will respond to things by putting up the black square on their Instagram or whatever, but what have you actually done? What conversations have you had? 

None of us know everything. I don’t speak to the Black experience. I speak to Shaun’s Black experience. Talk to those in your community and ask them what they need. The good part about technology and the connections we can have is that I get a chance to make that statement to a much larger audience than I could otherwise. But also, it’s very easy to have that image manipulated. It’s a constant battle or tug of war back and forth to be heard.