I used to be terrified of dresses. Pretty much anything that could be classified as “girly” was off the table, so I stayed far away from anything pink or glittery. Apparently, basic hygiene practices fit into this category as well, so I refused to wash my dreadlocked hair or change out of my oversized soccer jerseys unless absolutely necessary.
I would follow my older brother everywhere, assuming that I could do everything that he did. When he got obsessed with BB guns, I happily dressed myself up in pads and ran around in the yard as target practice. When he started to enjoy sports, I joined his all-boys teams. Suddenly, I was spending hours each day surrounded by boys at soccer, baseball, and hockey practice — and I was good. I loved that I could fit in with the boys and be respected for my athletic ability.
Male professional athletes receive significantly more attention and funding at every level of the sports industry. This has fostered an environment in which little girls think that their identity as a woman and their desire to excel in sports are mutually exclusive.
This led me to reject any aspects of femininity that could have undercut my athletic abilities. I took the word “tomboy” to the extreme. I wore boxers under my baggy zip-off pants and donned boys swim trunks for the beach. Even when I later joined girls’ teams, I could not alter my tomboy persona. I was the “sporty girl,” and that meant that I wouldn’t be caught dead in a dress. My identity as a woman felt incompatible with my identity as an athlete.
My older sister, imbued with the wisdom of a sixteen-year-old, thought otherwise. When I transferred schools in the sixth grade, she decided that it was time for me to start dressing like a girl. Before my first day of school, she took me shopping and filled my wardrobe with items that I barely recognized. I started off slow with jeans and gradually transitioned to include Uggs (a middle school staple), tank tops, and the occasional dress. I washed my hair at least once a week and tried to brush it even more frequently. To my absolute shock, incorporating these “girly” items and practices in my life did not negatively impact my athletic performance or credibility, and I actually liked getting dressed up!
I gradually learned that I could embrace my identity as both a woman and an athlete. Sports are still a crucial part of my identity as I am a member of the alpine ski team at Harvard, but that no longer precludes me from getting excited about a pretty pink dress. It is a slow road that I continue to travel, and I still hesitate to put too much effort into my appearance or let go of my “sporty girl” persona. However, I am grateful that I feel much more comfortable in my joint identities.
Despite my personal progress, I remain frustrated by the persistent male-domination of the athletic sphere. A few years ago, I coached co-ed youth T-ball with only one girl on the team named Susanna. Susanna was the opposite of me as a child, consistently covering herself in pink sparkles and donning dresses to practice. She remained quiet at all times. Instead of getting involved in the dirt-throwing and ball-whacking adventure that is eight-year-old T ball, Susanna chose to sit on the sidelines and watch the boys play. When I convinced her to join, she would have a great time playing! While I loved and respected Susanna’s confidence to wear her pink sparkles, I longed for her to not have to choose between being “girly” or athletic.
It is my hope that every girl can realize that these two identities are not incompatible. If you genuinely don’t like dresses or traditionally feminine items, there is certainly no problem in wearing baggy soccer jerseys. And if you don’t like sports, there is no need to swing a bat at a baseball. But if you feel drawn to both and find yourself afraid that one conflicts with the other, then throw on a dress and whack that ball out of the park.
The original artwork for this article was created by Harvard College student Duncan Glew for the exclusive use of the HPR.
