But even when they commit to lower-body training, many men still avoid direct glute work, says Rusin. They might crank out a few barbell squats, but ask them to do a set of hip thrusts or cable kickbacks, and you get a dismissive shrug or a visceral aversion.

Certain male fitness influencers have even expressed their distaste for glute exercises on social media. In a video clip that has made its way to TikTok, an Australian bodybuilder named Jeff Myth went so far as to say: “If you’re a man doing hip thrusts, you should be very upset. Because it upsets me.”

That aversion, shared on social media or elsewhere, has a way of trickling down to the average male gymgoer.

“Before I understood how important strong glutes are to almost any athletic hobby, I was probably hesitant to train them,” says Alex, 36.

Part of the hesitancy to take part may be due to the fact that some exercises can be seen as more masculine or feminine, says Rusin.

“Men just love the ego drive of throwing a bar on their back and acting like squats save everyone from cancer,” he says. “I think [direct glute work] has been polarized with Instagram culture where nobody wants to be mistaken for a booty chick.”

But Rae, 39, says it’s a huge green flag when a man gets over that hang-up.

“If they’re doing hip thrusts or other glute-focused workouts, their desire for health outweighs their hang-ups with masculinity,” she says. “Maybe it’s a little biology, but they look healthier. Healthy men take care of themselves, and somewhere in my brain, it’s connected to the idea that I won’t have to nag them to take care of themselves. And they’re just hotter—point blank.”

In the basic big box gym I go to (Blink Fitness), I’ve been seeing more guys sliding glute bridges or machine kickbacks into their workout without looking around self-consciously first. Slowly, the stigma is breaking down—not just around the exercises, but around the idea that men can train for power, longevity, and yes, a little cake, without it threatening their masculinity.

There’s something liberating about that shift, about owning a part of your body that used to be ignored. As Alex puts it, “it’s honestly really empowering to have a fat ass.”