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The oldest boxing gym in the United States, Gleason’s, age 87, isn’t as stuffy as you might assume. Well, the actual air in the Brooklyn gym—heavy with the sweat of 50 or so boxers and their coaches during a Tuesday evening training—is a bit stifling. But the vibe of the gym is surprisingly open. It’s a place where greats like Muhammad Ali, Floyd Mayweather Jr., and Mike Tyson have all trained, and in more recent history, Nolan Hanson has been coaching students through his Trans Boxing club five days a week.
“I started boxing for exercise because I was looking for community,” Hanson, 33, says. “It felt good to have a place where my masculinity and my natural aggressiveness were encouraged.” Eventually, he started competing, until a career-ending wrist injury caused him to look inward: He chose to medically transition and begin coaching. “I wanted to stay involved in boxing because I love it, and this was a way for me to provide an in for trans people, who have historically been excluded from the sport in a serious way.” That’s when Trans Boxing was born, eventually finding a home at Dumbo’s Gleason’s Gym.
“Gleason’s was the first gym to let businessmen train, the first to let women train,” says Bruce Silverglade, the gym’s current owner (there have been only three in its almost nonagenarian lifespan). “I have always been receptive to training anybody that is positive towards the sport. So when I was introduced to Nolan, and he asked if he would be allowed to train his clients here, I said absolutely. I am very enthusiastic to have Trans Boxing as part of the boxing community here. Two men made negative comments—they have both been removed from the gym.”
During his decade-long career, Hanson has trained thousands of clients—though he has 15 or so fighters he’s focused on right now, of all genders and sexual identities. During the last couple of months, Hanson has integrated his cis clients and Trans Boxing clients into one team training session. “It’s been much more meaningful in terms of building solidarity amongst fighters. But it also just simply acknowledges an important truth about our society: There are trans people and nonbinary people around every day.”
A handful of Hanson’s students linger post-class to talk about how his coaching has changed their lives. Kory Pippen has become more disciplined in their day-to-day and stopped smoking, something they “never thought they could do.” Sammy L. had never thrown a punch—and wasn’t even really interested in boxing—when she joined Trans Boxing two years ago. “I was looking for something to do with trans people,” she tells me, adding “Nolan is an incredible teacher. Right now, I’m just doing this for fitness because competing as a trans woman is something that is not easy, but I would love the opportunity to do that someday.” And Ben G. is thankful for the community it provides but also speaks to a stark reality for many trans people in 2024: “Now I feel like I can protect myself. God forbid I ever get into an altercation, but I have the skills to actually defend myself.”
Trans Boxing has now expanded to Los Angeles and continues to grow as Hanson’s clientele expands. “For me, the name Trans Boxing isn’t meant to just represent transgender boxing,” he says. “It’s more like learning about yourself through boxing—the prefix ‘trans’ symbolizes many things. The world isn’t always easy to navigate as a trans person, but by showing up in communities where we haven’t always been welcome, we can continue to change that.”
