Fitness
This Indigenous Powerlifter Wants to Build Strength in His Community
This story is part of Indigenous in Fitness, a series of articles highlighting the challenges and triumphs faced by Indigenous trainers, athletes, and gym owners. Read the rest of the stories here.
ETHAN WINN DIDN’T get into powerlifting in pursuit of sports greatness. He just wanted to continue his family’s legacy of strength. “When I was young, I heard a lot of stories about how strong my dad was,” says Winn, 23, who was born and raised in the Cherokee Nation in Oklahoma. “So my initial goal was just to be stronger than my dad.” His father had won a state powerlifting title—so the younger Winn would need to find an even greater goal.
Winn fell in love with the sport, threw himself into training, and greatness came. This past April, competing for Oklahoma State University as a fifth-year senior, he clinched a third place finish at the USA Powerlifting National Collegiate Championship on his final attempt of the meet, deadlifting 683 pounds. He earned All-American honors—an outcome he never expected—which he calls “the coolest moment of my athletic career.”
Now Winn is a college graduate and back in his hometown of Talequah, Oklahoma, and training hard to pursue new goals in the sport while doing content and marketing work for the Cherokee Nation. He’s also passionate about inspiring more Native youth to try powerlifting so that he can help others find community, confidence, and strength through the sport that changed his life.
MEN’S HEALTH: How did you get your start in powerlifting?
ETHAN WINN: I grew up in Tahlequah, Oklahoma, a town on the northeast side of Oklahoma that’s the capital of the Cherokee Nation. I found powerlifting just by hearing stories about how strong my dad was and how he won a state title when he was younger. Everybody he went to high school with would always tell me whenever I see them that he was always the strongest one in the room, even though he wasn’t the biggest. Being a competitive person, my initial goal was just to be stronger than my dad.
It took a lot longer to reach that goal than I expected. It finally happened in 2021. But the journey was worth it. At that point, I was so deep into the sport that I decided I would continue doing it for as long as I can. With powerlifting, you really have to dedicate your time to be good.
I started lifting when I was 12 years old and entered my first meet when I was a high school sophomore. I went to an Indigenous high school, where our curriculum was taught in Cherokee. It helped me a lot to be surrounded by other Natives in my hometown. That really helped mold who I was going to be. I didn’t really experience any culture shock until I went to college.
When I got to Oklahoma State University (OSU), I found that it was a lot harder to figure out where I stood. I had spent so many years being in institutions that were run by Natives for Natives, and now I was at an institution created by white people for other white people. Fortunately, powerlifting really helped ground me at OSU.
MH: Did you have to adapt your behavior or personality to fit into the new powerlifting spaces you were in while you were at school?
EW: Not really—I had to do that in other aspects of my life, but not so much in lifting culture. When you’re training at a team practice, strong is strong and that’s how you’re identified. Elsewhere in college, I was hanging out with people who didn’t know a lot of Native Americans, so I had to deal with a lot of questions and stereotypes. But I didn’t have to do any of that in the powerlifting setting. In the gym, I could be who I wanted and needed to be.
I’ve always been somebody who will never forget my cultural upbringing and background. One neat thing about powerlifting is that even though everyone competes on teams, it’s an individual sport. So everybody gets their own self-representation.
Indigenous people have a lot of strength. It’s in our bloodlines. But more than that we all have this story of being removed from our homeland or our culture and have shown the resilience and strength to fight for our culture or to stay in our homelands. I know that same strength flows through me. And powerlifting has become the way I’ve been able to convey that the most.
MH: Can you describe the collegiate championship competition in which you earned All-American honors [a designation for the top athletes in a collegiate sport]?
EW: My goal was to finish top five and get a medal—something I’d never done before at nationals. The day started with the squat, which is normally my best event. But judges didn’t accept my final attempt, so instead of being in control I had to stay positive and navigate the numbers. Next came the bench press—I lifted 413 pounds, which left me in fifth place. And then my phone died, so I couldn’t listen to music on my headphones for the majority of the deadlift. I was sitting in fourth after two deadlift [attempts].
For my last try, I attempted 680 pounds. I went out there and was expecting it to be one of those really grinding deadlifts. But I stood up with it really easily. I don’t think I was smiling outwardly but inwardly, a whole lot of emotions were flowing through me. I didn’t cry—with all that adrenaline going through me, I don’t even think I could have processed tears in that moment—but I wanted to.
I was so happy to finally grab one of those medals. In college I felt like I struggled a lot in terms of who I wanted to be, where I wanted to be. I always felt like I needed more, that I needed to graduate earlier because I was a fifth-year senior. The icing on the cake was when the president of USA Powerlifting (USAPL) gave me a medal, he also awarded me with an All-American patch. I didn’t know the top three were considered All-American. It was the coolest moment in my athletic career, and I can say I’m one of the few All-Americans from this community.
MH: Do you think there are challenges that young Indigenous people face to be fully part of powerlifting or fitness culture?
EW: One challenge that many Native youth face in powerlifting is financial. I know a lot of Natives who would love to do it, but they don’t have the money to participate. I’ve been blessed to be able to make my own money and be supported by my parents and community. Powerlifting is pretty expensive, even if you’re just doing it as a hobby. And if you want to compete, you need to spend at least a few hundred dollars on equipment and then pay $100 on meet fees each time. A lot of people aren’t willing or able to make that investment.
Also, a lot of Native men are tough on themselves. They don’t really find the confidence in themselves to do something like this—it can seem challenging to get into a sport unless a lot of other Natives are doing it. With so few of us in this space, it’s tough. I’m one of the few Native American powerlifters that I know and none of us are celebrities—we’re not Jim Thorpe or other Native Americans who’ve made it in a big pro sport. So I try my best to be a good role model and to be somebody that people can look up to. I’m not aspiring to be famous; I ultimately want to help pave the way for more Native youth to reach for new heights in sports.
MH: Do you have ideas on how to make powerlifting and fitness more equitable for Native people?
EW: Definitely. I’ve talked with a friend about setting up a meet on our reservation. It would still be competitive, with standard judging, but you wouldn’t need equipment or money for meet fees if you’re interested in getting into the sport. I also remember meeting and talking with a guy who is big in New Mexico’s powerlifting community, and he goes to schools in Native American communities and leads workshops on how to be a better powerlifter or powerlifting coach. I’m interested in setting up workshops [like that and] exposing more Native kids to the sport.
I had some experience with this when I joined OSU’s Barbell Club. I ultimately became president of the club. I wanted to build momentum to get more people involved with the sport. For a lot of people, the gym itself is already intimidating. Powerlifting is even more intimidating because many people think the sport is a lot of big, loud men who look scary. I wanted to show them that it’s competitive, but also very fun—to create a safe space whether you want to do it casually or strive to be the best you can be.
I would love to take things that I learned leading the Barbell Club and apply them here to my community. We have a lot of empowerment in a lot of spaces here, but I don’t think there’s such a thing as too much empowerment. I would love to see more Native youth encouraged to do something that gets them out of their comfort zone and pushes them in new ways.
MH: What are your goals with powerlifting now that you’re out of school?
EW: It has taken a while to transition [out of school], but now I’m chasing new goals. My college career had such a good ending. It’s almost like watching a movie with a good ending and then hearing later that a sequel is coming—you hope it doesn’t mess with that great ending. I got in this mindset worrying about tarnishing my own legacy.
But now I’m lifting again and chasing new goals and aspirations. I’m thinking about open national championships and world qualifications. I know how tough that’s going to be—there are a lot of good powerlifters, probably some of the best of all time that we’re seeing in this current age of the sport. But whether or not I reach the world stage, I’m always going to feel like I’m riding that high from finishing third at collegiate nationals and making All-American. It’s a monumental moment in my life and it’s always going to be there. I can draw on that as I go and chase these other goals and aspirations.
Want to read more first-person perspectives on overcoming obstacles, breaking barriers, and finding success from Indigenous fitness pros? Click the link below to read all of the stories.