Back in the 80s I did a lot of aerobics on campus, because it was a cheap, efficient way to keep fit for jujitsu and, well, okay, hot girls.
I had no idea until I read this essay in the New York Times that I was part of a failed feminist dance moment.
Revolutions don’t always happen in the streets. In the early 1980s, a seismic shift took place in strip-mall storefronts that smelled of sweat and Enjoli. Pulsing to the beat of Donna Summer and glistening with spandex, these fluorescent-lit rooms vibrated with the energy of career women and housewives bouncing in unison.
Aerobics was liberation. It offered a way for millions of women to feel proud of what their bodies could do, not just how they looked.
Ahhhh..... Aerobics OzStyle. We used to watch that at the end of the night shift in the telephonists room.