On Binaries in the Movement Industry
I always smile to myself when a new client comes to me, whether in an intake session or their first class, and tells me the reason they’re here is because, somewhere along the line, they picked up the idea that their posture is poor, or that some part of their body is dysfunctional (i.e., a bad spine, weak hips, no core strength, etc.).
After many years of teaching movement, from therapeutic and rehabilitative work to more athletic approaches, I’ve heard it all. So much of the noise in the movement industry, while maybe well-intended, often creates confusion. “Am I doing it wrong?” “Am I feeling it in the right place?” “Is my form correct?”
This good/bad view is reductionist and, more often than not, unhelpful in the long term. It takes very little context into people’s individual backgrounds, restrictions, or unique stories. Trying to fit something as complex and remarkable as the human body into such narrow categories can feel absurd.
There’s also something unspoken behind these labels, an undercurrent of shame, weakness, or even a sense of moral failing that comes from assigning “bad” or “wrong” to a body that is constantly doing it’s best to support and protect you.
While I have deep compassion for those in fear of hurting themselves, especially when navigating chronic pain, I honestly think a lot of the information overload surrounding movement these days can do more harm than good.
I don’t subscribe to the overly simplistic binaries of right/wrong or good/bad form that have become so popular in the age of social media. I also don’t believe there is such as thing as “bad” movement; only movement we’ve yet to build capacity or tolerance for.
Take something like a hip hinge. It’s commonly considered a foundational human movement. When assessing a hinge, I look at a client’s ability to achieve a deep crease in the front of the hip joints while also expanding into the posterior pelvis.
There’s no morality tied to a hip hinge, so we can look at it objectively. You’re either finding it the way it was taught to you, or maybe you’re flexing your spine as your body attempts to bypass it. Maybe you have some restriction that is causing you to compensate in another way. But is one version good and another bad? It just is. It exists. The sensation and load may change, but it’s less about “bad” form. You’re simply doing something slightly different, a variation, a subtle angle shift. And guess what? The body thrives on varied movement, so the black and white demonizing of movement is unnecessary.
Maybe the more helpful questions are: do you have the awareness to notice where your body tends to bypass? Can you shift between shapes and recognize the choice you're making based on context, on sensation, or on what you personally need to strengthen, explore, or restore in your own body? Is what you’re doing wrong, or is it just something else?
Movement is neutral, and the body, at its best, is responsive and adaptable. The shapes you make aren’t “right” or “wrong”. They evolve with your ever-changing needs and experiences.
When guiding movement in any capacity, I think it’s far more beneficial to help people become more aware of what they’re doing and support them in making choices that feel safe for them. We can also help with building strength and resilience in unconventional or often criticized ranges of motion that, somewhere along the line, were unfairly stigmatized.
Sometimes we’re stuck in a pattern and aren’t even conscious that the body has other options. There may be a different pathway available that feels more supportive or less compressive. Maybe helping people develop a clear internal map of how the parts of their body work together does far more good than instilling fear and rigidity in their movement practices..
Like most things, movement is full of paradoxes: push and pull, contraction and expansion, stability and fluidity, effort and ease. When we reduce movement to binary thinking, we often lose the nuance, complexity, and intelligence of the body. While quick solutions and certainty may feel familiar, I believe true movement resiliency can come from embracing paradox, expanding the body’s options, and staying open to new perspectives along the way.
More on this later :)
