“There’s this Reddit page called r/swoletariat, and they have these really funny memes and TikToks of people just at the gym. We went down this rabbit hole… and we just kind of built from there,” Ellie jokes.

“Swoletarian” may not be a term they coined, but it’s one the two genuinely believe in.

“A lot of my friends, including my partner, had been hitting up the gym—a lot. In the rise of fascism, what we can control is getting swole. Just… powering ourselves up during this time,” Kim says.

It’s silly, yes, but it’s also surprisingly motivating—and, earnestly, kind of true.

My post-theatre-kid friends and I are working out more than ever these days, taking up boxing, bouldering, swimming, and distance running. Yet the infrastructure for queer people who like to sweat still pales in accessibility.

Ellie describes the song as a way of reclaiming spaces that have become heavily politicized and are often exclusionary to queer bodies. We talk about the discomfort and policing that comes with existing as a queer person in athletic spaces, especially as right-wing rhetoric targeting trans and nonbinary athletes continues to intensify.

There’s something liberating, we agree, about owning your body and using it as a tool for liberation in a world that’s constantly looking at you.

“You’re not getting smaller—you’re getting physically bigger,” Ellie says. “You’re taking up more space. I think that really appealed to me about the concept.”

“I think there’s a certain fatigue among all of us during Pride Month. We wanted to not take ourselves too seriously while still promoting a message we believe in—trans pride, and being in spaces we’ve traditionally been excluded from. Nowadays that’s… well, all public life, especially the gym and sports. We wanted to do that without hitting people over the head with it. Just… have fun.”

Material threats to survival remain very real, and they loomed over the making of the song itself.

The duo’s process was significantly complicated by Ellie’s location in the United States. Because of recently enacted gender-marker policies, her passport has effectively been nullified, making international travel—and in-person collaboration—impossible.

The two managed just a single day together before the border separated them again. Kim returned home to Vancouver. Ellie remained in New York.

Yet projects like “Swoletarian” prove that community remains possible, even when systems are designed to make people feel isolated and powerless.

“The first time I saw Ellie perform, I’d never seen someone shred guitar behind their head. I was like, ‘What?’ I remember looking around the whole room. Ellie totally shreds. She composes, writes, mixes… I really got to witness my friend be a boss. You’re such a boss,” Kim laughs when I ask what drew the pair together creatively.

The duo also assembled a companion playlist titled GAY ASS WORKOUT PLAYLIST, placing “Swoletarian” alongside artists like Cain Culto, Mannequin Pussy, and 100 gecs.

That’s ultimately the ethos behind the project: a motivational manifesto for protecting your community by strengthening yourself.

At a moment when queer bodies are increasingly scrutinized, politicized, and legislated, “Swoletarian” argues that becoming stronger can itself be an act of resistance.

The message is simple enough to chant between sets at the gym: We’re ripped. And we’re not going anywhere.