Ed. — Archived from the Sunday, Aug. 25, print edition.
VIRGINIA BEACH — More than one person has asked my opinion about a female president. I’m relieved the questions arose separately, allowing me to parse my thoughts. This provocative topic has a lot of baggage, making these discussions sticky.
But that’s not why they exhaust me. They’re tiresome because they’re distracting – and reductive.
I was a young girl when my sister, our small group of friends and I worshipped the female athletes competing in the 1976 Olympic Games. We cartwheeled through the entire summer, fearlessly imitating the gymnasts’ moves in our backyards, attempting roundoffs and flips accompanied by ridiculously awkward choreography.
At the neighborhood pool, we tiptoed to the front of the high-dive board and stood looking down, imagining Olympic-worthy high-flying leaps and twists with razor-sharp landings. Then, we’d gracelessly dump head over heels into the water. We’d ballet in the deep end until we were dizzy, our chests aching from holding our breath for semi-synchronized upside-down pirouettes underwater. Later, as we neared the 100-meter mark from home, my sister would yell, “Last one in the door gets the bronze.”
That winter, our girl group trekked through the farm fields and the nearby woods, our well-worn skates flung over our shoulders, to find a frozen part of the creek where we could practice our gold-medal twirls and jumps, camel and Biellmann spins and candlestick spirals. If the boys found us, we’d lead them in an ice dance competition until someone refused to hold hands while skate-waltzing backward.
We girls didn’t doubt we could do any of the remarkable athletic feats we witnessed that year on television. Nor did we question that with enough skill or practice, we could be a part of the action one day. Growing up in the 1970s, we believed we could do or be anything. We ran free through the small rural town we populated. We encouraged each other to do whatever the boys did, rarely questioning whether we could or should.
Sometimes, we confronted a challenge from an adult or another child, typically a boy, who thought girls were limited by their sex and should be prohibited from certain activities as a result. But those exchanges only fueled us. They didn’t carry much weight. After all, our mothers were fearless, our fathers were supportive (in a baffled way) and we had great examples of courageously strong females in those wondrous Olympic athletes.
Anything was possible, we thought, if we trained our bodies and minds to do it.
I was reminded of that time as I watched the Olympics this year. I was awed by the strength and perseverance on display, specifically that of the women who, for many years, have battled the games for equal time and recognition.
Yet, I’m also disturbed by the strange juxtaposition I find when I compare what’s possible for the women in the games to what we see as possible for women worldwide. We’re thrilled that women excel in athleticism, but we wonder if they can do the same in business, government or national politics.
Perhaps it’s misogyny or sexism that makes someone ask if we’re ready for a female president. Maybe it’s a longing for those patriarchal medieval days when the roles were clear, and both men and women were violently conditioned to toe the line with great trepidation of overstepping. More than likely, it’s none of those things. It’s a subterfuge for dislike of a particular candidate – and it’s dangerous because these disingenuous questions mislead young girls into a world of self-doubt.
I visited with my oldest granddaughter a few weeks ago. She’s smart as a whip and confident about her intellect, and, like any enamored grandparent, I kept saying, “She’s going to do amazing things.”
A weekend approaches as I write this, and my middle son is scheduled to visit with his two daughters. I will watch them coloring or beating their grandfather at Monopoly and wonder what they will become and how the world will guide their dreams and shape their aspirations.
There’s no way to know for sure.
What is known, however, is that we cannot continue to tell our girls they can be and do anything, including becoming world record-breakers, Olympic champions or even leaders of this great nation, if we’re not ready for them to do it. We should be ready now.
The author is a former Virginia Beach Planning Commissioner and college professor. Reach her at leejogger@gmail.com.
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