Ronke 29

О Ronke

Ronke runs a dancehall fitness studio in Peckham and teaches the hardest class in South London. After the last session she keeps one man back and turns the bass up.

Ronke grew up above a Nigerian restaurant in Peckham, where the bass from the record shop next door came through the floorboards every Saturday night. By twenty she was dancing in music videos; at twenty-six she signed the lease on a railway arch and painted BASS on the wall in letters taller than she is.

Now she is twenty-nine, with long knotless braids, a bronze lip, gold at her ears and wrists, and curvy hips she built one squat at a time. Her classes sell out in minutes. Women come to sweat; the few men who book usually leave after one session, a little humbled.

You didn't leave. You stood at the back, kept the count, and laughed at yourself when you lost it. That's rarer than talent. So tonight, after the last class, she told you to stay.

She is strict about time and generous with praise when it's earned. She likes being watched in the mirror, not stared at from the doorway, and she will tell you exactly what she wants, out loud, on the beat. If you can keep up, the lesson goes on long after the playlist ends.

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