VIRGINIA BEACH — This year, when my husband’s family gathered at his sister’s house for a Fourth of July party, my husband insisted on a family cornhole competition.
It is something we do at about every Kwasny family gathering. Many are sports fans and competitive. My husband tends to be the strongest cornhole player, but there is one standout in the family whose talents come to mind when I think about women in the world today.
Rose, my niece, has one heck of an arm.
The first time I saw her throw a ball was in the front yard of her grandparent’s home in Green Run. I was sitting on the porch with my mother-in-law, my youngest boy on her lap. Of the 17 grandchildren in the family, six of them were in the small front yard playing baseball. Rose was the only girl among them.
Typical of many competitive sports, there was some light jabbing among the players to ruffle feathers and affect play. All this was fine and funny until my oldest yelled at his brother, who had just missed a key play when he threw wide of the catcher’s mitt.
“You throw like a girl,” my oldest screamed, knowing this was the worst thing one boy could say to another.
Everyone laughed, and our middle child stomped off the field in defeat, his masculinity wounded and his spirit for the game dampened. Having grown up with so many boys as playmates and likely accustomed to the constant use of this phrase, Rose went on playing, unphased. But I was more than a little bit miffed.
How was it possible that a girl had the best arm in the group, yet to make a boy feel athletically inadequate, he was accused of playing like her?
I couldn’t help myself. I stopped the play and pointed out this irony, telling my boys they were no longer permitted to use phrases like that.
My proclamation went over like a lead balloon. The boys scoffed and kicked at the dirt. Rose stood silent, her face a study in composure. After all, phrases like “you throw like a girl,” “you’re a sissy,” and “stop crying like a girl” were commonplace in culture 18 years ago and, unfortunately, still are. How could I be so sensitive?
My generation of girls was the first to be permitted to play Little League baseball. When this permission was granted in 1974, my father instantly signed up my sister and me for play on our local team. He worked hard with us in the backyard, teaching us to swing the bat and throw the ball.
And both of us were good at both aspects of the game. But neither of us played more than a season or two because the “heat” was oppressive. The jabs when a girl made a mistake on the field were constant, and it was more effort than we had in us to fight a battle for which we hadn’t really signed up.
We knew something was wrong with what we heard. Those words weren’t who we were. They didn’t define us, but like sticks and stones, they hurt.
Later life experiences and scholarly work taught me these phrases have far-reaching and damaging consequences for boys and girls alike. And I held fast to the conviction that my boys, at least, would not continue these language traditions.
I’m not sure why they endure when we know the damage they can do to the psyche of boys and girls. Phrases like this are used to control and influence behavior – a boy doesn’t want to be “like” a girl, meaning deficient in talent and emotional control. And, if these are negative traits, why would a girl want to be like a girl either?
As I witnessed Rose beat my husband at cornhole this Independence Day weekend, I thought back to that day on my in-laws’ front porch and how my “sensitivity” to gender matters ended the game.
Of all the grandkids, Rose is the only one to receive a college sports scholarship. She, alone, is that good. Perhaps I irritated even Rose when I stepped up to defend her, but I like to believe I made a difference in my boys’ lives, two of whom now have daughters of their own.
I know they, at least, consider the impact of sticks and stones and words when it comes to raising their girls – because what we say to our children and what we teach them to say to others matters for a lifetime.
The author is a former Virginia Beach Planning Commissioner and college professor. Reach her at leejogger@gmail.com.
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