Buckle up, friends. This post is about to get long...and real. With strong opinions and likely grammatical errors and run-on sentences (did you see what I did there, English majors?). Little to no pictures of my cute children.
Still with me?
Awesome. Sometime last year, I wrote about a seemingly-small, and to many, insignificant incident that I experienced at the local YMCA. You can read about it
here. I approached it with a sort of tone that might have implied it was just a silly and whimsical situation, but in all actuality, it has been a real thorn in my side.
In summary, my husband and I played basketball at a gym in which I was the only female player. My presence was not well received, and I was openly subjected to sexist remarks and attitudes, despite (or maybe I should say "in spite of") my equal, if not superior, basketball skills. After this experience, we haven't gone back to play...until a few weeks ago.
I really love playing basketball. It seriously is the one thing that I can honestly admit to being good at and is something I love about myself. I know the game inside out, and I love it just the same. If I would've made different decisions in my younger life, I know without a doubt that I could've done really great things with my career in basketball. My parents invested countless hours and thousands of dollars in my potential, and I put in the work. Basketball is not only a huge part of my life, but is also now a treasured activity that I get to share with my husband, and it has bonded us more than I can express. Though it may sound trite, playing makes me happy and I don't know what I'd do if I couldn't play anymore.
Why am I telling you this?
Last week, my husband and I went back to play again. The first few days were great. There was a younger group of men that were not even phased by my presence. It was normal. Then, on the third day, some familiar faces turned up...
"No, no, no! These teams aren't fair. We gotta switch things up. We got the chick on our team?"
"What's the matter, you sitting out because we're being too mean to you, sweetie?"
"Ok, it's me, Mark, Chris...what's your name, bro? Ok, Josh... and the girl."
"Dave, Dave! Just keep working her on the screens, chick doesn't know what she's doing. Easy shot. She doesn't know what she's doing."
How mild are these comments in comparison to the monstrosities others face based on their gender, race, religion, sexual-orientation, etc.?! It's still hurtful and maddening, however. Like I mentioned earlier, basketball means a lot to me, and to have someone act like I am inferior and don't deserve to be involved based on my gender is NOT OK. I admittedly cowered to this pathetic demonstration, and offered to sit out if my presence was going to cause any problems. My first and last mistake. I am not going to be pushed around by some egocentric, uneducated, chauvinistic jerk who has nothing better to do than search for my weaknesses instead of addressing his own. On a more positive note, I guess more than the disdain for this perpetuated attitude, my heart is full of gratitude for the famed and unheralded alike, who have battled the sting of discrimination and endured for change. I want to be that caliber of a person.
In conclusion, "You play like a girl" is a compliment, and I won't let anyone insinuate differently. Look out, haters.
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