When I first started massage school, I thought back to a massage I had gotten the year before from a local massage therapist. During our session, she made an offhand remark that was homophobic in nature. She had no idea I identified as queer; I passed as straight and had never discussed my personal life with her. As she continued to speak, I felt my body tense up beneath her hands. For the first time, I felt unsafe on a massage table.
I began to hear from some of her other clients, who expressed frustration at how she talked during the whole massage. They found themselves feeling as though they were the massage therapist's therapist! All of these clients were women, and none of us felt safe enough to express how we really felt to her, and to assert our needs during the session.
As I progressed through school, I realized that I wanted to work with people who may have experienced similar situations. Trusting someone with your body can feel impossible when you don't feel comfortable enough to advocate for yourself, or if you have experienced trauma, or when you already feel unsafe in this world, as so many of us do. And yet, we are the people who need massage the most.
I named my practice A Room of Our Own Massage after Virginia Woolf's 1929 essay in which she advocates for women's access to education, writing, "A woman must have money and a room of her own if she is to write fiction." I am inspired by Woolf's essay as a fiction writer and as a feminist. I wanted to create a literal room where people who often feel unsafe in this world--particularly LGBTQIA+ folks, women, and people of color--could get access to bodywork.
I particularly see a need for sensitivity and empathy when working with trans*-identified people. I have seen firsthand how much my trans and gender nonconforming friends struggle with finding safety in day-to-day situations, and I can only imagine how complicated it would be for them to schedule a massage. Would the massage therapist respect their pronouns? Know what kind of draping to use? Be inclusive of all bodies on their table?
Sadly, this isn't a given. Most massage therapists don't have the education, or even the sensitivity, to properly address the needs of LGBTQIA+ clients. Which is especially unfortunate considering how badly many of us need massage therapy to address physical issues such as tight muscles, pain from binding, or post-operative swelling, as well as emotional issues stemming from the impacts of trauma and structural oppression.
I opened my business in August of 2018, just me, in a 100 square foot room. My business steadily grew, then exploded during Covid, when I opened an outdoor studio. I brought other therapists on in 2021, and we moved into our own building in 2023. Now, we have five treatment rooms (plus one relaxation lounge and one sauna room) of our own.
I understand massage (and beauty and skincare treatments) still feels like a luxury given the cost. But I encourage you to look at our pricing options, which include student/military discounts and membership and package rates, and see how you can make it a part of your life. We offer a limited number of pay-what-you-can massages a month, and I am always happy to discuss payment options with you before your appointment. My goal is to make bodywork as accessible as possible to the people who need it the most.
—Caitlin Eichorn, Owner of A Room of Our Own Massage, Beauty, & Skincare
Caitlin is a 2012 graduate of Davis High School, a 2015 graduate of UC Davis, and a 2018 graduate of Massage Therapy Institute. In addition to her work as a massage therapist, Caitlin is a foster parent, mom of six rescue animals, and a fiction and memoir writer. In her work on the table and on the page, she draws from her experience as a queer woman with a trans spouse and her history of depression, anxiety, and OCD to help clients who may not otherwise feel comfortable seeking bodywork.